Chapter 14 - Matvei
The ride home from the club was charged with an electricity that made the air itself feel thick.
Matvei kept his hands on the steering wheel, gripping it tighter than necessary as he navigated the late-night streets, hyperaware of Irina sitting beside him.
She’d been quiet since they left, but it wasn’t the sullen silence he might have expected after their confrontation on the dance floor.
This was something else entirely, something that made his pulse race and his control feel paper-thin.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked suddenly, her voice soft in the darkness of the car.
He glanced at her, taking in the way the passing streetlights played across her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the fullness of her lips.
“No,” he said, and realized it was true.
The jealousy from earlier had burned away, replaced by something far more dangerous. “I should be, but I’m not.”
“Good,” she said, and there was something in her tone that made him look at her more carefully. “Because I’m not angry with you either. Not anymore.”
The admission hit him like a physical blow.
He’d expected her to be furious, had prepared himself for days of cold shoulders and cutting remarks.
The fact that she wasn’t, that she was sitting there looking at him with something that might have been forgiveness in her eyes, made something crack open in his chest.
“Irina,” he started, but she shook her head.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t apologize or explain or justify. Just... don’t.”
He wanted to argue, wanted to make her understand that his behavior at the club had been about more than possessiveness or control. But looking at her now, seeing the way she was watching him with those ice-blue eyes that seemed to see straight through him, he found himself nodding instead.
The mansion felt different when they walked through the front door.
The familiar halls and rooms seemed charged with possibility, as if the very air between them had shifted into something new and dangerous.
Matvei found himself studying Irina as she moved through the space, noting the way she seemed more confident somehow, more present in her own skin.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, falling back on politeness because he didn’t trust himself with anything else. “Water, or...”
“I’m fine,” she said, turning to face him in the middle of the foyer. “The drinks at the club were strong enough.”
Right. The drinks. He’d been trying not to think about that, trying not to let himself wonder if the alcohol had played a role in the way she’d kissed him back on the dance floor, in the heat he’d seen in her eyes during the drive home.
“How fine?” he asked, the question coming out rougher than he’d intended.
She tilted her head, studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “What do you mean?”
“I mean...” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with his inability to articulate what he was trying to ask. “You had several drinks tonight. I don’t want to assume anything about your judgment right now.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes, followed by something that might have been amusement. “You’re asking if I’m drunk.”
“Are you?”
She stepped closer to him, close enough that he could smell the faint traces of her perfume mixed with the club’s atmosphere that still clung to her dress. “I had two drinks over three hours, Matvei. I ate dinner before we left. I’m not drunk.”
“But you’re not completely sober either,” he pointed out, hating himself for the way his voice sounded, uncertain, almost desperate.
“No,” she agreed, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m not completely sober. But I’m sober enough to know exactly what I want right now.”
The words hung between them like a challenge, and Matvei felt his carefully maintained control begin to fray at the edges. This was dangerous territory, the kind of moment that could change everything between them, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that kind of responsibility.
“Irina,” he said, her name coming out like a warning.
“Don’t,” she said again, but this time she was moving closer, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. “Don’t think so much. Don’t analyze. Don’t protect me from my own choices.”
Her touch burned through his shirt, and he found himself covering her hands with his own, torn between pulling her closer and pushing her away. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”
“Then show me,” she said simply.
And just like that, his control snapped.
He kissed her. Not gently, not hesitantly, but with a hunger that had been clawing at him for weeks.
The moment their lips met, something wild broke loose between them.
Her back hit the foyer wall as his hands slid down the curves of her body, finding her hips, gripping like he needed the grounding.
She gasped against his mouth, fingers diving into his hair as she pulled him closer, deeper, needing more. His tongue parted her lips, slow but possessive, tasting her, claiming her, breathing in her heat like it was oxygen.
Matvei lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist without a second thought. He carried her through the hall like she weighed nothing, lips still locked, hands wandering, until they reached the soft leather couch in his office.
He sat down with her straddling him, her dress riding up her thighs. Her eyes, blown wide with lust and certainty, met his. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.
“I’ll kill you if you do.”
That was all he needed.
His hands slid up her thighs, pushing the fabric higher until he could feel the heat of her through the thin lace of her panties. She ground against his palm, her breath stuttering as he traced her through the fabric, slow, deliberate, cruel.
She was soaked.
“Irina,” he breathed, like a prayer and a curse in one.
She kissed him hard, fingers yanking at the buttons of his shirt, revealing warm skin and the hard plane of his chest. She ran her hands over him like she needed to feel every inch, his shoulders, his arms, the flex of muscle under her touch.
He pushed the lace aside and slid two fingers through her slick folds. Her whole body shuddered.
“Fuck,” she whimpered. “Matvei…“
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, curling his fingers just right. “You feel like heaven.”
She rode his hand slowly, rhythm building, breath catching on every stroke. Her head fell against his shoulder, lips brushing his neck as she moaned into his skin. Her hips moved on instinct, chasing the friction, chasing the peak that was already so close.
When she came, it was a soft, shattering thing, her body tense and trembling, her breath a broken cry in his ear. He held her through it, murmuring her name like it meant something more.
But it wasn’t over.
She slid off his lap only to drop to her knees between his thighs, fingers working his belt with shaky urgency. He reached to stop her, because fuck, the sight of her like that, eyes dark with want, lips parted, was almost too much.
“Irina…”
“Let me.” Her voice was velvet and heat. “I want to taste you.”
And when she took him into her mouth, slow and deep, Matvei nearly lost his mind. Her tongue was sin, her lips plush and perfect. He buried his hands in her hair, groaning her name like a confession, his control unraveling thread by thread with every glide of her mouth.
It didn’t take long. When he came, it was with a ragged growl, his body bucking, his hands tight in her hair as he spilled down her throat. She swallowed him like she was made for it, slow, savoring every drop.
When she finally rose, her mouth kiss-bruised, eyes lazy with satisfaction, Matvei’s mouth crashed against hers once again, devouring, pulling soft gasps from her lips. He dropped down onto the leather and pulled her into his lap, her thighs straddling him, bare skin against his own
“I want to feel you,” she whispered into his ear, her voice thick with need. “No teasing. No waiting.”
He reached between them, pulling her panties aside again, fingers sliding through her folds. “You’re soaked for me.”
“For you,” she echoed, breathless. “Only for you.”
Her hand moved to his belt, tugging it free with shaky fingers, then unzipping him. She reached inside, finding him thick and hard, and when she stroked him once, slow, deliberate, his breath hissed through his teeth.
“Condom,“ he started.
“I’m on the pill,” she said. “And I trust you.”
It was the way she said it, calm, sure, without hesitation, that broke him.
He gripped her hips, positioning her, the head of his cock nudging against her slick entrance. Irina sank down onto him with a soft gasp, her walls tight and hot, stretching to take him inch by inch.
Matvei groaned low and deep, gripping her waist like she might vanish if he didn’t hold on.
“Fuck, Irina…”
She braced herself on his shoulders, rolling her hips slowly, adjusting to his size. Her nails dug into his skin as she began to move, riding him with a slow, grinding rhythm that had him seeing stars.
She was so wet, so warm, and every squeeze of her muscles made him feel like he was going to fall apart.
“Look at me,” he said, and when she did, those icy eyes glazed with heat, her lips parted in pleasure, it made him ache in ways he couldn’t name.
He slid his hands up her body, pulling the dress down to free her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking softly, then biting just enough to make her shudder. She gasped and rode him harder.
“That’s it,” he growled, his hands on her ass, guiding her pace. “Fuck yourself on me.”
She did.
Every bounce, every grind, every moan poured from her like music, wet and wanton, raw and desperate. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, punctuated by her breathless cries and his low, reverent curses.
She leaned forward, foreheads pressed, breasts brushing his chest as she whispered, “I’m close.”
“I feel it,” he groaned. “Let go. Come for me.”