Chapter 26 Alina
Alina
Our new residence is everything I’d expected and more.
A strikingly modern slate-gray mansion surrounded by immaculately landscaped trees that partially hide the sky-high fences surrounding it, it’s equal parts fortress and architectural marvel.
Extending some dozen meters above ground—and, I bet, deep underground—it boasts a flat roof with raised edges (presumably for the guards to have cover if they’re repelling an attack), a front door made of a solid stone slab located deep within a recessed niche, and zero windows. At least as of this moment.
I’m guessing some of the thick walls slide apart to reveal floor-to-ceiling windows when it’s deemed safe. Which is apparently not this evening.
As we approach, the stone-slab door retracts sideways into the wall with a barely audible pneumatic hiss, revealing a foyer that manages to be both imposing and welcoming.
The floor is a warm-toned travertine, contrasting with walls paneled in dark, vertically grained wood.
Subtle warm light washes down from recessed fixtures, catching the metallic sheen of abstract sculptures placed in rectangular niches.
It smells faintly of winter pine and expensive leather, a scent that reminds me of Alexei himself.
A wide archway leads into the main living area.
Cathedral-height ceilings arc high above polished concrete floors that are warmed by vast deep-pile rugs in charcoal gray.
While one wall is indeed a massive, unbroken surface that likely hides the windows, the others feature integrated shelving units displaying curated objects d’art and strategically placed panels that probably conceal screens or weapon safes.
As Alexei shepherds me through the space toward a glass-and-chrome staircase in the left corner, I notice that the furniture is modern with a cozy vibe—deep sofas upholstered in rich velvet paired with sleek armchairs and glass tables.
I also spot small, almost invisible sensors integrated into the ceiling corners, their dark lenses blending seamlessly.
I tear my gaze from them, only to find myself captured by the intense look on Alexei’s face.
He’s watching me, assessing my reaction to our surroundings, and the naked hunger in his eyes makes my breath stall in my lungs.
All of a sudden, I become aware of the warmth emanating from his strong hand that rests on the small of my back, of the way he’s subtly but determinedly forcing me to move faster as we reach the top of the stairs.
My pulse jacks up, a familiar fire rushing over my skin. Invisible wall or not, he wants me. There’s no doubt about that. Not with the dark heat in his eyes and the coiled tension in his powerful body.
The moment we’re in the bedroom, he’s going to pounce.
A pulsing ache starts between my thighs at the thought, and I find my steps speeding up. And then we’re there, inside the bedroom, and his hands are on me, tearing at my clothes, at his clothes.
With ruthless efficiency, he strips us both naked, then picks me up and carries me to the massive bed in the center of the room, the heat of his body warming me in the cool air. As he walks, I catch a glimpse of movement and realize the wall to my right is a full-wall mirror.
Startled, I glance around.
The opposite wall is mirrored as well, as is the ceiling.
We’re everywhere, our reflections like a live porn stream.
It’s disconcerting. And hot.
Alexei is huge compared to me, all hard, flexing muscle and raw male strength. His inked skin is a dark, intricate tapestry against my paleness. In the mirrors, the coiling dragons on his chest and arms seem to multiply, surrounding me, branding me as property of my demonic lover.
I look small, disturbingly fragile in his embrace, yet I don’t feel unsafe, not even when my eyes return to his and I see the feral hunger on his face.
Our sex may be rough at times, but he will never truly hurt me… not like my father hurt my mother.
I feel it with bone-deep certainty.
He deposits me onto the bed, and before I can do anything, he spreads my knees apart and buries his head between my legs, ravenously lapping at my folds. I gasp, arching up as the warm, wet strokes of his tongue electrify my nerve endings, skyrocketing the tension building inside me.
Panting, I fist the sheets, my gaze glued to the erotic tableau in the ceiling mirror as the orgasm rushes at me like a high-speed train, the sensations cresting suddenly and violently, making me convulse with pleasure.
“Again,” he says hoarsely, not lifting his head, and I feel the thick, prodding pressure of his finger pushing into me.
No, two fingers. The stretch is almost too much, but also somehow not enough.
I squirm, crying out as an aftershock makes me clench around the invasive digits, and then his tongue returns, wet and soft, dragging over my pulsing clit as his fingers curl inside me, rubbing against my G spot with unerring precision.
I combust again, the second orgasm so sudden and intense it paints my vision white and wrenches another cry from my throat.
The sharp throb of pleasure doesn’t end; his fingers stay inside me, pressing and rubbing, pushing me toward the edge again, not letting me catch my breath.
I squeeze my eyes shut as he pushes in a third finger, and the stretching sensation intensifies, edging into pain.
But it feels good too, especially with his hot, wet tongue lapping at my clit, the soft, slick stroking contrasting with the rough invasion of his fingers.
I come again. Maybe. Or maybe it’s the never-ending aftershocks that make my toes curl and my breath exit on a gasp.
And then I gasp again, clenching hard against a new sensation.
A finger of his other hand is probing at my back entrance, using the wetness from my orgasms and his saliva to push into my ass, slowly but inexorably, advancing a millimeter at a time.
My heartbeat quadruples, scorching heat rushing over me, making me feel dizzy.
The sensation is so strange, so foreign and…
and wrong that my eyes pop open and I arch off the bed again, gripping his hair instead of the sheets.
The dark locks feel thick and silky between my fingers as I tug on them, trying to pull his head away.
“Alexei…” My voice is breathless and a little panicked. “What… are you doing?”
He lifts his head to look at me, but he doesn’t remove his fingers—not the three in my pussy and not the one that’s slowly penetrating my ass. His lips are wet and shiny, his coal-black eyes gleaming with possessive hunger.
“Don’t worry, Alinyonok…” His voice is a low, dark croon. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”
And if I don’t want you to?
I’m tempted to ask, but I don’t know if I want to know the answer.
Would he stop if I told him to? And… would I want him to stop if I said so?
Because maybe, just maybe, a tiny, deeply unfeminist part of me likes the imbalance in our relationship, the one that gives him all the power, all the agency… all the responsibility.
No, that’s crazy. And yet, I don’t ask the question.
I don’t speak at all—partially because I can’t.
As Alexei lowers his head and resumes licking my folds, I’m overwhelmed by the sensations, bombarded with a mix of intense pleasure and growing discomfort, the burning stretch in that part of me where entry feels so wrong.
It’s just his finger, but it’s still too much, too invasive, a strange, too-full feeling that makes me squirm and gasp, clenching tightly against the steadily advancing pressure.
“Relax,” Alexei urges hoarsely. “Push out…” And when I attempt to do so, he breathes, “Yes, just like that… Let me in… Good girl.”
His finger is all the way inside my ass now.
Combined with the three in my pussy, it feels like I’m stuffed to the brim, so full I’m about to burst from it.
It’s odd, and uncomfortable, and… a perverse turn-on, especially with the attention he’s paying to my oversensitive clit.
Panting, I clench again—and then, with a keening cry, I come, fireworks exploding in my core and dancing over my skin, leaving me shaken and breathless, so limp and drained I’m barely conscious.
But Alexei is not done with me yet. Leaving his finger in my ass, he moves up over me and claims my lips with a fierce kiss before entering me with his cock.
The usual thick stretch from his shaft is exacerbated by the foreign sensation of that finger, and I shudder, my inner muscles spasming as aftershocks from the orgasm assail me, one after another.
The squeezing sensation must feel good to him because he groans low in his chest and pushes all the way into me, lodging himself so deep that I cry out, digging my nails into his shoulders.
He pulls back halfway and lifts his head. Shakily, I open my eyes and meet his gaze. His eyes are midnight dark, burning into me with ferocious intensity.
“Say it,” he demands in a low rasp, and somehow, I know what he wants. What he needs from me.
“I love you.” The words spill from my lips like water from an overfilled cup. “I love you, Alexei, with everything I am.”
His eyes flare with nuclear heat, and I wait for him to say it back, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he kisses me again—a deep, rough kiss that devours—and then thrusts back in, starting a slow, steady rhythm.
And then… oh, fuck. I forget all about the unsaid words as he begins to move the finger in my ass, in and out, matching the thrusting pace of his cock.
The sensations are unreal, so raw and carnal and intense that my eyes roll into the back of my head, my heart racing dangerously fast as violent heat scorches me from within.
It’s overwhelming, too much and not enough at the same time, and I hear myself begging, pleading for him to stop—no, to keep going.
The tension gathering inside me is enormous, unbearable.
It fills my core until I’m vibrating like a plucked string, every muscle in my body taut and straining.
I’m on the precipice of something huge, something that’s going to shatter me.
I know it, I feel it. And then… it’s there.
A tsunami of pleasure slams into me, ecstasy erupting in every nerve, every cell.
A white glow engulfs my vision, and a cry rips from my throat as I convulse, over and over again, my body spasming around him until, with a guttural groan, he comes, his thick shaft jerking inside me for what feels like an hour.
I’m so thoroughly destroyed that I barely register it when he pulls out of me some time later and disposes of a condom. Hazily, I wonder when he had a chance to put it on, but the thought slips away, my eyes closing of their own accord as exhaustion claims me, dragging me into the land of dreams.