Chapter 7
Anya
I wake up aching.
There’s a heat under my skin, a pulse I can’t shake. My thighs remember the shape of his mouth. My fingers twitch at the memory of the glass toy warming inside me. Every time I sit, my body hums with leftover pleasure.
I walk the estate grounds alone, tracing the edges of the iron gates, watching shadows fall across the marble statues in the courtyard. I no longer care about the distance. I don’t care what comes next.
I just want him.
When Lev knocks that night, I don’t hesitate. I open the door and step aside.
He walks in carrying a small black pouch and a look that tells me today is different.
“I re-watched the footage,” he says. “From the study.”
I feel my cheeks heat. I expect him to talk about the way I straddled his lap and the sounds I made when I came.
Instead, he says, “You winced when you got off the desk.”
I blink. “What?”
He sets the pouch on the dresser and unzips it. My eyes widen to find inside—gauze, antiseptic and ointment.
“You scraped your thigh. Here.” He points to a spot just below the top of my leg. “May I?”
Following my surprised nod, he leads me to the bed and kneels in front of me. His hands part the hem of my robe as he easily finds the scrape I didn’t even know was there.
It’s faint and barely red, yet he treats it carefully and slowly.
No one has ever touched me this way, not in my entire life.
Not my father and definitely not even myself.
This man—the one everyone warned me about, the one with a brutal reputation and rumors of ruined women—touches my skin like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he blinks.
His fingers brush nothing but the injured spot and the edge of the bandage. He doesn’t linger or leer.
He just sees me.
When he finishes, he softly presses his lips above the gauze.
Something breaks open in my chest. It’s a feeling never felt before. Without another thought, I climb into his lap.
He doesn’t move at first. His hands hover near my back and his breath catches against my shoulder.
I feel his heat and restraint.
And I want to tear it away.
His hands find my waist slowly, like he’s giving me one last chance to change my mind. I shift forward in response, grinding against him through his clothes, and feel him become hard beneath the fabric.
He breathes out through his nose, sharp and quiet, as he looks up at me.
“I don’t want to wait anymore,” I say.
“I’m glad.” His answer is low, spoken against my throat. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
I reach for his shirt and he lets me unbutton it. I want to see his skin, to be closer to him. When I press my mouth to his chest, he lets out a barely audible groan.
Lev lifts my robe over my head gently. When it’s gone, he trails kisses from my shoulder, to my collarbone and lower.
I line myself up without his aid and sink down slowly.
A gasp escapes me as every inch burns in the best way. He’s thick, and my thighs shake with the stretch. His eyes never leave my face. He doesn’t push or thrust, he just holds me there.
I pause to catch my breath, then I start to move.
It’s slow at first—me rolling my hips with him gripping the edge of the chair so tightly his knuckles go white. He lets me own the first moment.
Then when I start to tremble, he moves.
Lev lifts me just enough to flip me onto the rug, then presses into me again—deep and steady. He begins to move, sliding in and out of me with slow strokes. With each thrust, he hits a spot deep inside me that sends jolts of pleasure coursing through my veins.
I dig my nails into his back, holding on tight as he picks up the pace. His rhythm remains careful, but firm. My legs wrap around him, and he groans, low and broken, like he’s finally letting go.
"Oh god," I moan, tilting my head back to expose my neck.
Lev lowers his head, taking advantage of my exposed flesh. He runs his tongue along the column of my throat before sucking gently on the sensitive spot where my pulse flutters wildly.
I whimper, arching against him as sensations flood my body. "More," I beg breathlessly. "I want more."
Given permission, he rears back, gripping my hips tightly, and begins to pound into me. I can feel every inch of him as he drives deeper and harder with each thrust. My breasts bounce wildly beneath me against his skin, sending electric shocks straight to my clit.
Lev leans down, capturing one of those stiff peaks in his mouth, biting gently while his hand massages the other breast roughly. He releases my nipple with a wet pop and raises his head to meet my gaze.
His eyes are dark with lust, his teeth bared in a feral grin. "You wanted more?" he growls. "I'll give you fucking more."
I don’t hold back either.
I moan into his mouth as he kisses me softly and fucks me relentlessly. I call out his name, again and again.
When I come, it’s hard.
It rolls through me like a crash I don’t try to soften. I break open under him, muscles clenching, with my fingers clawing at his back.
He holds on till he finishes. Then he whispers my name against my shoulder like a secret. He doesn’t collapse, instead wraps his arms around me like he’s trying to figure out how we ended up here, skin to skin, no more walls left between us.
We don’t speak and I fall asleep curled against his chest.
And for the first time, he doesn’t try to leave.