Chapter 16 - Sofia
“Tell me what you want.”
The words come out steady despite the tremor running through me. I have one of Alexei's wrists pinned to the armrest of his chair, and his other is obediently resting on the other while my free hand strokes his cock.
I remove my hand, returning it to his other wrist, and he whimpers.
My weight is settled across his lap. Nothing beneath his shirt that I'm still wearing except bare skin already slick with need, no barrier between my dripping pussy and his rock-hard cock.
This man who breaks bones without blinking is shaking under my hands.
"You." His voice cracks on the single word. "Just you."
"Be more specific." I roll my hips again, achingly aware of the inch of space between my clit and the ridge of his cock. The oversized shirt I'm wearing is pulled tight across the space between us, covering my pussy from view, but I can feel my own wetness leaking onto his bare thighs.
His hands flex under mine where I keep his wrists pinned, testing. He could break free easily. We both know it. But he doesn't. He lets me hold him down, lets me take what I've been craving since he first wrapped his hand around my throat.
"I want to be inside you," he breathes, pale eyes black with need.
"I want to feel your tight little pussy squeeze my cock when you come.
I want to taste your cum on my tongue. I want to fuck you until you can't remember your own name.
I want… Pozhaluysta, Sofia." The Russian spills from his lips, raw and desperate. "Mne nuzhno tebya trogat'."
I keep my expression neutral even as my mind automatically translates: I need to touch you.
I silence him with a kiss that's more possession than tenderness.
My tongue invades his mouth, tasting vodka and desperation.
I bite his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, and the copper taste makes us both groan.
When I pull back, he's panting, a thin line of red on his lip that I want to lick clean.
"Please, Sofia." The word tears from him. "Let me touch you."
"No."
I grind again into thin air, achingly aware of how close his cock is to my clit. My wetness has dripped down to his thighs, leaving a damp spot. The leather chair creaks obscenely with each roll of my hips.
"You've taken everything from me since I got here," I murmur against his throat, dragging my teeth along his pulse point until he shudders. "My freedom. My dignity. Made me choke on your cock while you watched. Tonight, you give it all back."
"Take it." His hips buck up involuntarily, seeking friction. "Take whatever you want. Use me."
"I intend to."
I sit up straight and peel back my shirt, revealing my dripping pussy. Both of us are riveted, watching my slick folds less than an inch from his steel cock. His dick jumps, and he moans, rocking his hips forward to try to reach my pussy, needing to release the pressure.
I stand slowly, my legs shaky from the effort of holding myself back from just sinking down on his cock. The loss of contact makes us both whimper. His eyes are riveted to the wet spot on his thighs where I've marked him with my arousal.
"The shirt stays on while you watch," I tell him, running my hands down the white cotton that barely covers my ass. "You don't move. You don't speak. You just watch me show you what you can't touch."
My fingers find the first button, taking my time. Then the second. Each one deliberate while I watch his knuckles turn white on the armrests. By the fourth button, the shirt gaps open enough to show I'm wearing nothing underneath, my nipples hard and visible through the thin fabric.
Fifth button. I let one hand drift down to cup my breast through the cotton, pinching my nipple until I gasp. His breathing goes ragged.
Sixth button. The shirt hangs open now. I turn around, giving him my back as I let it slide off one shoulder. I hear his sharp intake of breath when he sees I'm wearing nothing underneath, completely bare.
The shirt follows, pooling at my feet.
"Christ almighty," he whispers, his cock jumping, his tip glistening as it leaks.
"You've seen me naked before."
"Not like this." His voice is destroyed. "Not when you're choosing it. Not when I can see how fucking wet you are for me."
I step closer, close enough that he could lean forward and taste me. His whole body trembles with the effort of staying still.
"Now you can touch."
His hands are on me instantly, desperate and reverent at once. His palms burn against my skin as they map every inch. My waist, my ribs, the undersides of my breasts. When his thumbs brush my nipples, I have to bite back a moan.
Then he finds my scars. The thin line on my ribs from a knife fight. His thumb traces it before he leans forward and runs his tongue along the length of it, making my knees buckle.
"Every scar," he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. "Every mark. Tell me."
"Later," I gasp as his mouth moves to the bullet graze on my hip, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise over the old wound.
I fist my hand in his hair and yank his head back. "Right now, you're mine to use."
The look in his eyes, pure submission from this dangerous man, makes my pussy clench around nothing.
I tear at his clothes with desperate hands. Buttons scatter. His belt clatters to the floor. I shove everything down until he's bare, his cock thick and hard and already leaking precum.
The scars covering his torso make me pause. So many stories written in damaged flesh.
"Where?" I trace the long one across his ribs.
"Chechnya. I was nineteen."
The shoulder. "This?"
His jaw clenches. "My father. A lesson about weakness."
I kiss that scar, tasting salt and pain and survival.
"You're not weak," I whisper.
"I am with you."
I straddle him again, positioning myself so his cock slides between my folds but doesn't enter me. The contact makes us both groan. Skin against skin, his length sliding through my wetness.
"Fuck," he hisses as I rock against him, coating his cock with my arousal. "You're so fucking wet."
I reach between us and wrap my fingers around him properly. He's thick enough that my fingers barely meet, and when I stroke from base to tip, gathering the precum there, he makes a sound like I'm killing him.
"Do you remember the gala? What you said?"
"Everything." His hips thrust up into my grip. "I remember everything."
"You said I was yours." I position his tip at my entrance, letting him feel how hot and ready I am, how my pussy clenches trying to draw him in. "But tonight…" I sink down just enough to take his head, my walls stretching around his thickness. "You're mine."
"Say it."
"Ya tvoy." The Russian tears from him. "I'm yours. Fuck, I've been yours since the moment I saw you. Since before…"
I sink down another inch, cutting off his words with a groan. He's so thick it borders on pain, that delicious stretch that makes my eyes roll back.
"Stay still," I command when his hips twitch up.
"Sofia…"
"You can. You will."
I take him inch by devastating inch until he's fully seated inside me, stretching me so completely I can barely breathe. For a moment I just sit there, adjusting to his size, feeling my pussy flutter and clench around him.
Then I start to move.
Slow at first, rising up until just his tip remains before sinking back down.
The drag of his cock against my walls makes me see stars.
I set a punishing pace, taking my pleasure from him, using his body the way he's used mine.
My clit grinds against his pelvis with each downstroke, and I can already feel my orgasm building.
He tries to thrust up and I slam my hand against his chest.
"Did I say you could move?"
"Please," he begs, his fingers digging bruises into my hips. "Let me fuck you properly. Let me…"
"No." I ride him harder, my tits bouncing with each movement. "You'll take what I give you."
The sound of my pussy taking his cock fills the room. Wet, obscene, perfect. I'm so wet that I'm dripping down his balls, making a mess of us both. His eyes are wild, watching where we're joined like he's trying to memorize it.
I reach down and circle my clit, knowing I'm close.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he pants, slipping between languages. "Moya koroleva, taking my cock so perfectly. Fuck, your pussy is so tight."
"Look at me."
Our eyes lock and I see everything. His need, his obsession. The orgasm hits me like a freight train, my pussy clamping down on his cock as waves of pleasure crash through me. I cry out his name as I come, grinding down to take him as deep as possible.
Before the aftershocks fade, the world tilts. He stands in one fluid motion, lifting me with his cock still buried inside. My back hits the bed and suddenly he's over me, in me, driving deep with a thrust that makes me scream.
"My turn," he growls, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. "My fucking turn."
He fucks me like he's trying to brand himself inside me. Deep, punishing strokes that hit my cervix and make me see white. His free hand grips my thigh, hiking it higher, changing the angle so his cock drags against my g-spot with every thrust.
"Is this what you wanted?" He pounds into me harder. "To make me lose control? To make me fucking desperate for your pussy?"
"Yes," I gasp, already feeling another orgasm building impossibly fast.
"Eleven years," he grits out, his cock swelling even thicker inside me. "Eleven years I've been obsessed with you. Hating you. Wanting you. Fucking my fist to pictures of you."
"And now?"
He releases my wrists to grip my face, forcing me to look at him.
"Now I don't know how to let you go. Now I want to fill this perfect pussy with my cum every fucking day. Now I want to ruin you for anyone else."
"Then do it," I challenge, clenching around him deliberately. "Ruin me."
He groans and his hand moves between us, his thumb finding my swollen clit. The combination of his cock hitting deep and his thumb circling sends me over the edge again.
"That's it," he growls as my pussy spasms around him. "Milk my cock. Take everything."
My orgasm triggers his. I feel his cock pulse as he empties himself inside me, rope after rope of hot cum filling me as he groans my name. He collapses on top of me, both of us trembling and sweat-slicked.
We stay joined, his softening cock still inside me, his cum starting to leak out around him. The intimacy of it makes my chest tight. His hand traces patterns on my hip while I run my fingers through his damp hair.
"I called Nico today," I finally say.
His body tenses. "And?"
"I found more intel today. Everything about the Kuzmins meeting. New details, updated security." My voice cracks. "I photographed it all. Then I deleted everything. Every piece of information my family needed."
The silence stretches, heavy with implication.
"Why?"
"Because I couldn't betray you." Tears slip into my hair. "I'm a traitor to my own blood. For you."
He props up to look at me, his cock slipping free, followed by a rush of his cum that makes me shiver.
"You chose me over them."
"Don't make it sound noble. I'm everything I swore I'd never become."
"You're human."
"I'm supposed to be a weapon."
He kisses me softly, tasting the tears on my lips.
"You're more than that. You've always been more."
I fall asleep with his cum still dripping from me, marked inside and out by our choices. When I dream, it's not of Mikhail or gardens or forgotten promises.
It's of Alexei between my thighs, looking at me like I'm his salvation and damnation combined.
And that voice whispers: This is a cliff you can't climb back from.
I know.
I jump anyway.