Artem
The drive back into the city is silent.
Elena leans her head against the window, the streetlights sliding across her face in gold streaks that make her look half real, half a dream. I keep one hand on the wheel, the other clenched against my thigh, fighting the urge to reach for her.
By the time we reach my building, the world outside has gone quiet, the kind of quiet that only comes before dawn. The elevator hums as it carries us to the top floor, thirty-two stories above the noise.
When the doors open, she steps out ahead of me. The penthouse is mostly glass and concrete, cold by design. It’s never felt like home, just a vantage point. But when she walks in, barefoot, her heels and mask held loosely in her hand, something shifts. The space feels smaller. Warmer. Dangerous.
She turns in a slow circle, taking in the skyline, the shelves, the low light. Her gaze lands on the sideboard near the window, and the single photograph resting there.
She crosses to it before I can stop her.
Lev.
It’s an old shot, taken years ago, both of us in shirts open at the collar, standing outside the main house where we grew up.
Where I can’t bear to return to now Lev won’t be there.
My arm is slung around his shoulders, his grin infuriatingly wide.
I never framed it for sentiment. It was a warning, a reminder of what happens when I let myself care too much.
Elena traces a finger over the glass. “He looks happy.”
I swallow hard. “He was.”
She glances over her shoulder. “You look… proud.”
“I was,” I say quietly. “He was supposed to take everything I built and make it better. That was his magic.”
Her hand falls to her side. “He loved you, you know. He talked about you like you hung the moon.”
I can’t look at her. “He shouldn’t have.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. She sets the photo back down carefully, as if touching it too roughly might wake the dead.
“You were the reason he came to me that night,” she says finally. Not a question, a truth she’s only just pieced together.
I nod once. “He wanted out. I told him the family doesn’t get to choose out.” I breathe in through my nose, the air too sharp. “He left anyway.”
Her eyes shine in the dim light. “And you’ve been punishing yourself ever since.”
“Someone had to,” I say, mimicking what she told me on the first night.
She steps closer, until the faint scent of her skin replaces the cold air of the room. “He wouldn’t have wanted that.”
I almost laugh, but the sound dies before it can form. “He wouldn’t have wanted to die either.”
Elena lifts her hand, hesitates, then lays it against my chest. “You didn’t kill him, Artem.”
I cover her hand with mine, pressing it against my heartbeat. “No. But I pushed him out by trying to keep him close.”
She looks up at me then, eyes full of something I can’t name. Forgiveness, maybe. Or worse, understanding.
“Lets go to bed,” she says, her voice soft and sleep weary.
I lift her into my arms and carry her through to the bedroom, lying her down gently on the large bed that always felt too empty before.
Her dress is wrinkled from so much wear, and I briefly think about how I’m going to get her stuff moved here if her family are being awkward.
But all thoughts leave my mind once she is naked before me.
Her smooth skin, her soft curves. Every part of her is an invitation to forget everything that came before and celebrate in her beauty.
I waste no time in dropping between her legs. Lazily stroking my cock as I lick and suck her pussy.
“It feels so good Artem,” she says in that breathy whine I didn’t know I was craving to hear again. “You make me feel so good.”
A light pulse throbs through me and precum leaks from my tip. She makes every cell in my body hum for her. The taste of her, the sound of her, the way she looks spread out before me.
I press my tongue a little firmer against her dripping cunt, sliding it in and out of her channel before swirling circles on her clit and he hips begin to find a rhythm against my face.
“There,” she gasps. “Don’t stop,” she pleads.
I continue my efforts, using every ounce of self control to keep my own pleasure at bay.
Her hands fly to my head, pulling me tighter against her warm cunt as she moans through her orgasm.
When her moans turn to whimpers, I begin to kiss my way up her body, paying extra attention to her glorious tits. She reaches for my cock, taking over from me with her stilted, disjointed strokes.
“Get onto all fours for me, Elena, I need to fill you as deep as possible,” I say. She releases me and does as I ask, lifting her gorgeous round ass into the air. I turn us so we are facing a mirror on the far side of the room. “That’s it, let me see you gorgeous tits when I fuck you from behind.”
She moans, at my words or how she feels when I swipe a finger over her entrance, I don’t know. I spread her juices around making sure she is wet enough to take me before I thrust into her in one smooth stroke.
She grunts and her face screws up briefly. She must still be sore from earlier and I make a mental note to take better care of her.
“If you need me to stop, say so now,” I manage through clenched teeth.
“No, Artem,” she pleads.
“Then tell me what you need.”
She gasps as I thrust into her again. “I need you to fill me full of your hot cum.”
I grin at her use of dirty talk. It’s unexpected, but I like it.
I set a punishing pace, every muscle in my body wound tight with the need to fuck her into next week.
To fill her so full of my cum that it takes root and blooms in her womb.
I watch her face in the mirror as her breathing increases, as pain gives way to desire, to pleasure.
I drop my gaze to her tits, hanging from her frame and bouncing wildly in time with my thrusts.
“Don’t stop, Artem,” she says, reaching down to her clit.
My balls lift and tighten and when her fluttering cunt tightens around me, I let go.
I let go of everything. I come so hard my vision blurs, my thrusts grow erratic but still have enough force to move us across the bed.
The arm she is supporting herself with collapses, her breasts squashing into the bed, her eyes are closed, her mouth a soft ‘O’ as her orgasm shudders through her.
I spurt rope after rope of cum into her, trying to brand her from the inside out.
Once my dick finishes twitching inside her, I pull out as gently as possible, helping her turn onto her back, and propping up her hips on a cushion.
Then I sink between her knees once more and drop soft kisses on her pretty cunt lips.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice hazy, sleep moving in to claim her.
“I’m making sure I stay inside you. Go to sleep, Elena. I’ll take care of you.”
I push what small drop of me tries to leak from her back into her channel and continue to gently lick and suck her lips before heading to the bathroom. I soak a wash cloth in a bowl epsom-salt infused water, fold it neatly and return to place it on her swollen pussy.
She shifts slightly as I climb beside her, resting a hand over the warm washcloth to keep it in place, removing it only once it has cooled.