Jasmine
The smell wakes me before the light does.
Warmth, butter, something savoury and earthy. My mind takes a full ten seconds to process the fact that though I ache, nothing hurts, nothing is cold, and I’m lying in a bed so soft it feels like it’s made out of a cloud. For a flickering, disorienting moment I forget where I am.
Then memory rushes in all at once.
Adrik. His hands. His mouth. His body over mine, inside me, wrapped around me like he was claiming me and saving me in the same breath.
I blink into the quiet glow of the suite and push myself upright, tugging the sheet across my chest even though there’s no one here to see. My muscles feel loose, heavy, satisfied in a way I’ve never felt before.
And that smell…
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and the floor is warm under my bare feet. Warm. Of course it’s warm. This place probably heats itself just for him.
When I step into the living room, he’s there.
Adrik stands beside the small dining table, sleeves rolled up, tie abandoned somewhere, plating food that looks like it belongs on the cover of one of those high-end magazines I used to flip through in waiting rooms. Omelette, roasted vegetables, fresh fruit sliced into perfect little diamonds, and bread so soft I can smell the yeast from across the room.
I stop in the doorway without meaning to.
He’s dressed again in that pale gray suit that makes his eyes brighter. Like winter ice with the sun behind it. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower, pushed back in a way that exposes the sharp lines of his face. He looks… rested. Steady. More dangerous than ever.
And God help me, more beautiful too.
He glances over his shoulder the moment he senses me, and everything in him softens at the sight.
“Good morning, kroshka,” he murmurs.
My whole body jolts at the sound of that. My heart does this strange little flip, like it’s trying to climb up toward him.
“It’s lunchtime,” I say, because it’s all I can manage. The clock behind him says 12:04.
He smiles. It’s tiny, but it hits me with the force of a breaking wave. “Then good afternoon.”
He gestures to the chair, and for a moment I’m frozen again, because no one has ever prepared a table for me. Even if it was made in one of the restaurants and brought up. Everything in my life has always been transactional: quick, cheap, whatever I could grab.
This, him, feels like stepping out of a monochrome world into colour so vivid it almost hurts to look at.
I sit, and he watches me take the first bite. Warm, soft, rich. I don’t mean to make a sound but a small one escapes anyway, and his eyes darken a fraction.
“You should eat like this every day,” he says quietly. “You will be pregnant faster.”
I lower my gaze to the plate because the weight of that promise is almost too much. “Is… this what life with you will be like?” I ask. “Good food? Big suites? Security guards outside the door?”
He sits opposite me but his hand reaches out, brushing two fingers along my wrist in a slow, thoughtful glide. Heat tingles up my arm, settling somewhere low in my belly.
“This?” he says. “This is nothing. This is just a temporary suite in a hotel I barely use. When we choose a house, it will be one you love. With light. Space. A garden, if you want one.”
“A garden?” I echo, half-laughing.
“You could grow flowers,” he says. “Or vegetables. Or nothing at all. You could sit outside with our children while I make dinner.”
My breath catches violently.
Children.
He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t blush. He doesn’t backpedal. He says it like he’s stating a simple fact of the universe. Like the sky is blue, gravity exists, and Jasmine Boothe is going to have his babies.
The strangest thing is… I’m not afraid.
We eat in silence for a while, but it’s not awkward. It feels settled. Like we’ve shifted into something inevitable.
When I finish, he rises and extends a hand to me. “Come,” he says softly. “I’ve had enough time to recover, how about you?”
I laugh, but it’s cut short when I see he is serious. He pulls me into a kiss as he unties the belt of the hotel robe I shrugged into.
“I think you should keep the robe,” he says, pushing it off my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.
“I’ll have to check with the owner,” I say with a grin.
He takes my hips in his hands and turns me around so I’m bent over the table. The mirror on the far wall catches my reflection. The bruise on my ribs has softened, my skin is flushed and a healthy color, my hair is wild and my nipples are a darker shade of pink from his attention earlier.
He parts my legs and sits on the floor spinning until his face is up against my pussy. When his mouth closes over my clit, heat floods every part of me, instantly making me crave his cock.
His tongue smooths it’s way in lazy patterns over my pussy until I’m grinding against his face for the friction I need.
“Hold on, Kotyonok,” he says as he manoeuvres back to standing and I whimper at the loss of sensation. “When you come on my cock, you milk me harder. I want the full force of your first orgasm to drain me dry.”
I shiver with arousal and then he is stretching my pussy lips apart with his hard cock, nudging inside me with a grunt of restraint.
“Fuck you look so good.” His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Look at you coming undone on my cock. Look at how I fill you.”
I lower my gaze to the table top where I can just see the point at which his cock slides into me. The sight makes me mewl.
“I could watch your tits bounce and tremble all fucking day. And when they’re heavy and full of milk, I’ll fuck you until they leak.”
His arms snake around my waist, one hand dipping to my clit and tweaking it between his thumb and fingers. It doesn’t take long before I’m screaming his name, clenching on his cock like my life depends on keeping it inside me.
“That’s it, Jasmine,” he says, his voice breathless and strained. “Milk my cock, take all of my cum.”
He slams me against him as he groans in time with his release. Once, twice, three times, before it subsides to the final trickle that has him shuddering and gasping. I love that I ccan reduce him to this state.
“Your pussy ruins me in the best way,” he says against my ear as he pulls out, taking a string of his cum with him. I try to catch it, I don’t know why. It just seems like such a waste.
My pussy stings from the sudden loss of him. Before I’ve even had a chance to stand up straight, he is back behind me with a warm cloth, gently pressing it against my core from behind.
“I can’t wait until we do that again later,” he says as he gently dabs at my swollen pussy lips. “Are you okay to get dressed?” he asks, dotting a kiss against my neck.
I stand up straight, no longer bracing myself against the table and test my legs. Wobbly, but they’ll get me to the bedroom at least.
I take my time washing and dressing. In the bathroom mirror, I take in my reflection. I’m glowing. The dark circles under my eyes have begun to fade. My hair is glossy from the posh shampoo I used last night.
Sleep and great sex obviously agree with me.
Once I get back out into the open living space of the suite, he stands to take my hand.
“Let’s go,” he says, pulling me towards the door. I don’t bother picking up anything I arrived here with. I’m dressed in new clothes he had sent up for me and my old stuff was old when I bought it two years ago.
“Wait,” I say, picking up the envelope on the small table by the door. “I don’t need this anymore.” I hand the envelope containing my winnings to him, and he takes it.
“You don’t need it,” he says, “but it’s still yours to do whatever you want with.” He hands it back to me, punctuating the action with a kiss on my forehead.
I think about it for a moment.
“There’s somewhere I need to go.”
Ten minutes later, we are walking into the diner where I sat nursing a mug of coffee last night. It already feels like a lifetime ago.
Janey-Ann is pouring coffee and turns to greet me with a smile, which falters when she sees Adrik.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey hon, is everything okay?” She smoothes her hands over the orange apron. “Is this the guy who—”
I cut her off, “No. This is someone else entirely.”
“Right,” she says, casting her eyes over him again, obviously assessing him and not caring who knows.
“I just wanted to thank you, for last night, and give you this.” I hand her the envelope as she frowns and lifts the flap.
“I don’t understand,” she says, looking back at me. “Why would you give me this?”
I pull her into an awkward hug. “Because you were kind to me when I needed it the most.”
We pull apart and she swiftly wipes the tears from her eyes.
“This will help me so much, my daughter’s medication, my son’s school supplies. Are you sure?” she asks, searching my face as though she isn’t sure this is really happening.
“Absolutely,” I say and wave goodbye.
We leave the diner and climb back into Adrik’s car.
“Where to?” he asks.
“To the future,” I say, flashing my eyebrows and laughing at my own joke.