Artem
Artem
Elena sleeps against my chest, one hand curled beneath her chin, her breath warm against my skin. The room is quiet but alive with the soft rhythm of her breathing. For the first time in years, the silence isn’t heavy. It’s a strange and fragile peace.
All I can see is her. The faint pink mark along her neck where my mouth lingered, the way her lashes tremble in sleep as if she’s still dreaming.
I should be planning what comes next. There will be consequences; there always are. But my thoughts refuse to line up the way they used to. Instead, I’m thinking about what it would mean if this was allowed to grow into something.
I could talk to her father. I know his type: the kind of man who respects survival more than sentiment.
He made deals with my family before; he knows what I’m capable of.
If I tell him I could have killed his daughter and chose not to, he’ll understand the exchange being offered.
He’ll agree to whatever keeps her breathing.
It’s my father who will be the larger problem.
The Orlov name doesn’t bend for anyone, not even for me.
But as I look down at her sleeping in my arms, I realise I don’t care.
I’ve done everything that man ever asked of me; spilled blood, brokered fear, built empires from ruin.
If I ask for one thing in return, it will be this woman.
She shifts slightly in her sleep, pressing closer. My hand finds the curve of her waist and stays there, as if my body has already decided for me. The thought that someone like her could belong to me feels impossible and inevitable all at once.
I imagine her waking next to me, wearing my ring, her laughter filling my sterile home. I imagine her carrying my children, her music filling the house that has been silent since Lev died. The image feels both wrong and holy, like a prayer said over a crime scene.
Because that’s what this feels like. The second act of something I didn’t mean to begin.
And I already know how it ends.
Not with her dying in this room. But with her taking my name.
She stirs against me just as the light starts creeping across the floorboards. Pale gold filters through the curtains, cutting through the last traces of night. For a moment, I lie still, pretending I’m not awake, just so I can feel her weight on my chest and the slow, even pull of her breath.
When she shifts again, her hair brushes my chin. She tilts her face up, eyes heavy with sleep. I’ve never seen anything so quiet or so dangerous.
“Good morning,” she whispers, voice still husky from the night.
It hits me in the chest, how easily that could become a habit. Waking like this. Her in my arms, the world outside not able to touch us.
“Morning,” I say, my voice rougher than I expect. “Did you sleep?”
She nods, smiling faintly. “For the first time in a long time.”
I reach up, tracing a finger down her temple, following the line of her cheek. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shy away. The woman who trembled when I first touched her now looks at me like I’m something she’s chosen, not survived.
“You look different,” I tell her. “Peaceful.”
“Maybe I am,” she says, curling her hand against my chest.
We stay like that for a while. The silence between us doesn’t feel like a wound anymore. It feels like a reprieve.
“I’m not going to kill you,” I say.
Her eyes widen, her brows furrow. “But—”
“I can’t, Elena. There’s too much between us now. Not just Lev, something else, something bigger.”
She sighs, glancing toward the window. “I was ready to die.” Her voice is flat. “I figured if it wasn’t at your hand it would be at someone else's. Then I was glad it was you. It felt right.”
“That’s the problem,” I reply. “Because everything we have done tonight felt right.”
We fall into silence for a beat, her hand stroking over my chest.
“It’s the second night of the masquerade tonight,” she says quietly. “I don’t usually attend. I’ve heard…things about it that I didn’t like the sound of. But when the masquerade is over—”
I cut her off, “No. Whatever this is, it’s forever. It’s me and you and no one else. It might not make sense—fuck, it doesn’t make sense. But I know it.”
My hand finds it’s way to between her legs and parts her with my fingers.
“This is mine, forever. No one else ever gets to look at you, much less touch you. Do you understand?”
She nods, but truthfully, she doesn’t understand at all. She walked into this room expecting her life to end, and now it looks like it’s just beginning in a twisted, confusing way.
Her lips curve, a small, knowing smile that shouldn’t undo me the way it does. “You always sound like a threat when you’re trying to be sweet.”
I study her for a long moment. There’s a light in her now that wasn’t there before. Fragile, but fierce. It makes something deep in my chest tighten until I can barely breathe.
“Maybe I don’t know how to be anything else.”
She shifts closer, tracing her fingers over my collarbone, slow and thoughtful. “Then teach me what you do know.”
Her voice is soft, but it’s the kind of invitation that leaves no room for hesitation.
And just like that, the calm between us fractures, heat blooming where peace had tried to settle.
She pulls the sheets away and strokes her fingertips over the tattoos on my chest, slowly moving down in a trail to where my cock is swiftly hardening.
“What do you want me to teach you?” I ask, my voice still gruff, but from arousal now as well as the night.
“I’ve never—” she trails off, looking away, and I hook my finger under her chin.
“There’s no shame here, not between us. Say it.”
“I’ve never done to anyone what you did to me,” she says with a defiant flick of her eyebrows.
I grin and the absurdity of how cute she is right now. “You mean you’ve never given head, a BJ, gone down on someone?” I tease. She bites her bottom lip and her nose crinkles as she shakes her head no.
“You don’t have to,” I say, leaning forward and kissing her.
“But I want to, if you like it that is. I mean if you don’t, I suppose that’s fair enough—”
Now I really laugh. “There’s not a man alive who doesn’t like receiving a blow job,” I deadpan. “If you want to give it a go, take your time, see how you feel and if you want to stop, you can fuck me instead.”
She takes a breath and lowers herself down, taking my hard length in her hands. “It’s bigger than I expected,” she mutters and I raise an eyebrow at her. “You know what I mean,” she harrumphs, then licks her lips, and that alone is enough to set my blood on fire.
Then she touches her lips to the tip, and the air whooshes out of my lungs. Her tongue swirls around the head and I relax back into the pillows with a soft groan.
“Am I doing it wrong?” she asks, worry creasing her brow.
“No, you’re not doing it wrong,” I manage, and she bows her head and gets back to it. Her inexperience is obvious, but feels good. She takes me as far as she can into her mouth, flicks her tongue up and down the shaft, takes her time learning what makes me feel good.
By the time I’m throbbing with the need to empty my balls, I pull her off my cock and into a sitting position above me.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, my cock nestled in the slippery heat between her folds. She rocks her pelvis and lets out a moan.
“Nothing, I’m just close to coming and I want to feel your sweet pussy again.
” I lift her up and line up my cock, stroking it up and down her slit and over her clit before pushing it inside her.
She groans as I guide her down, her hands coming to rest on my chest. “If you rock your pelvis backwards and forwards, it will feel good for you.”
She does as I say immediately, then asks, “What feels good for you?”
“Your tight cunt feels good for me whatever you do,” I manage to say from between gritted teeth.
I watch her slide up and down my shaft a couple of times, her slick juices coating me, then she begins to rock back and forth and I lift my gaze to her glorious tits.
“Open up your arms,” I say. The view of her tits pressed together is amazing, but I’m desperate to see them bounce as she rides me.
She leans back, holding onto her own thighs as she moves back and forth relentlessly.
“That’s it, ride me harder, just like that.”
It feels unreal. The tight, slick heat of her cunt milking me with every pass.
Her head drops back and I know she’s close.
I reach for her nipples and pinch them lightly, feeling the bounce of her full tits under my hands.
I’m so close to busting my nut, and then it happens.
She comes violently, the orgasm tearing through her making her shudder.
Her rhythm stutters and I blow my load deep into her hot pussy.
She doesn’t stop moving until her orgasm passes completely and she hunches forward, hands back on my chest, face slack with calm, our mixed juices leaking from her down the underside of my still-hard cock.