Chapter 10
Anya
I don’t dress to be looked at as I’ve learned he wants me in every and any state.
I pull on a soft grey dress, something worn and simple, and comb my hair just enough so it doesn’t tangle when the wind touches it. My skin is bare and so are my feet. I feel like myself—for the first time in weeks.
I walk through the house without hesitation. I know where I’m going. I don’t peek into rooms or second-guess the sound of my steps echoing down the corridor. Every part of me is calm.
Lev’s office door is open. He’s behind his desk with his sleeves rolled, reading a book like nothing outside of it matters.
He doesn’t speak or look up when I enter. So I sit in the chair farthest from him, fold my hands in my lap, and wait.
When he finally lifts his head, the way he looks at me strips something quiet from inside my chest. It’s not lust or approval. It’s that rare, terrible thing I’ve never been trusted with before.
It’s care.
He sets the book down and stands slowly.
“Not down there,” he smiles. “Come up where I can see you.”
I don’t say anything. I simply rise, cross the room, and climb onto his desk.
Lev stays still as I straddle him, knees tight at his hips. His hands settle around my waist like he’s grounding himself.
He lifts one hand to my face, brushing his thumb beneath my cheekbone, and studies me like he’s afraid the shape of me might change if he blinks.
“I never wanted a wife,” he says. His voice is quiet, steady. “I wanted peace. You were both. And now there’s nothing else but you.”
My throat tightens and I don’t try to hide it.
“There’s always been nothing for me,” I say. “Until I met you.”
His mouth finds mine before I can take another breath.
He kisses me like he hasn’t eaten in days. He does as though my lips are the first thing he’s wanted more than violence. His fingers move to the straps of my dress, sliding them down my shoulders, and he undresses me like he’s unwrapping something he’s spent years trying to earn.
When the fabric slips down my body, he doesn’t look away. He kisses my collarbone, the hollow between my breasts, and the soft line of my stomach. I reach for his shirt. He helps me push it off his shoulders and lets me see all of him, unhidden.
Lev holds me firmly in place as he kisses me deeply again. I moan into his mouth, my arms wrapping around his neck. His lips trail down my neck, nipping and sucking gently. I arch my back, pressing myself harder against him.
My fingers find their way to his hair, pulling him closer as his lips graze my collarbone.
My breath hitches as he nips at the sensitive skin just below my ear.
His hands slide low, tracing the curve of my waist before moving up to cup my breasts.
I moan again, my head falling back as his thumbs brush over my nipples.
He lifts me effortlessly, placing me on the edge of his desk. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer as our tongues dance, exploring each other’s mouths eagerly. His hands slide up my thighs, pushing my skirt higher until it bunches around my waist.
His fingers trace the edge of my lace panties, teasing me mercilessly. I squirm beneath his touch, desperate for more contact. I look down to see him stroking himself, the sight making my mouth water.
He leans forward, kissing me fiercely as he positions himself at my entrance. I can feel his hardness pressing against me, ready to claim what’s his. With one swift movement, he enters me, filling me completely.
I cry out in pleasure as he stretches me wide.
One of his hands slips behind my back, holding me upright while his forehead rests against mine. He doesn’t start hard but moves like he’s memorizing how I feel around him.
I claw at his back, holding on tightly as he finally sets a punishing pace. The desk creaks and groans beneath us, threatening to give way. His movements become harder and more urgent. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, mingling with our ragged breaths and moans.
I feel my orgasm building rapidly as he grunts, his own release imminent.
I come first, gasping his name into his mouth, my whole body clenching around him as the heat rushes up and crashes down.
He groans into my neck as he follows, shuddering, his cock pulsing as he stays deep inside. His hands hold me tighter, one at the base of my spine and the other cradling the back of my head.
He remains there with his forehead to mine. Our bodies are pressed together, hearts pounding like they’re trying to sync.
We stay like that for a long time.
When he finally pulls back, I rest my head on his shoulder and breathe him in.
There’s no tension or chain around my throat. I feel only the quiet weight of his arms around me and the warmth of my body still echoing from where we touched.
I know he hasn’t said the word.
But I don’t need him to.
He loves me in the only language he knows: body, breath and vows without sound.
And that’s enough.
THE END