Nikolai
She’s sitting on the edge of my bed in one of my shirts, bare legs swinging slightly above the floor, her fingers toying with the hem like she’s thinking about something dangerous.
And I want to tear that shirt off and make her forget everything else.
The light hits her hair just right, catching the gold at her temples. The cuts and scrapes are healing, the bruises fading. There’s a slight mark on her thigh, faint, like a fingerprint that stayed too long. My fingerprint. From when I pinned her to the forest floor and claimed what was mine.
I shouldn’t want her this badly again. Not yet. Not so soon after I destroyed the men who dared to touch what none of us knew belonged to me. But I’m ravenous for her. Always. And worse, I’m not sure I’ll ever be full again.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, stepping closer, towel slung over my shoulder from the gym downstairs.
She glances up. “That you’re staring at me like you want to eat me alive.”
“I do,” I reply, without hesitation. “I always do.”
Her cheeks flush pink, but she doesn’t look away. “You already have.”
I shake my head, slow. “Not even close.”
I kneel in front of her. Her legs still. I push the shirt up and place my palms against her thighs, watching the way her pupils dilate.
“You said you don’t miss your old life,” I murmur. “So let me give you a new one. Stay here. In my bed. At my side. Let the world forget you existed.”
“That’s a terrifying offer.”
“No. Terrifying would be me letting you go.”
She licks her lips, and I’m instantly hard. She has no idea what that mouth does to me. What it means that soon I’ll be the only one who will ever feel them wrapped around his cock. That I’ll be the last.
I rise up between her knees and press my mouth to her throat, right over the frantic beat of her pulse. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I already did,” she whispers.
My grip tightens. I lift her, press her down onto the mattress, and crawl over her like the predator I am.
She opens for me without hesitation, arms around my shoulders, legs around my waist. Her scent hits me,a delicious sweetness, and I feel it again.
That violent need to ruin her and keep her in the same breath.
I kiss her like I’m starving. Because I always am for her.
She moans into my mouth, and I reach between us, sliding my fingers through her wetness. She’s soaked, needy, desperate.
“For me?” I growl.
“Yes.”
Always yes.
I slide inside her slow, but it doesn’t stay slow. It never does with us. I try to go gentle, try to savor, but I lose myself the second she moans my name. I pin her hands above her head and fuck her deep, hard, obsessed.
“You think I’m going to let you walk away from this?” I pant. “You think I’m going to watch you put on real clothes and go back to some bland job, some boring apartment, and forget this?”
She shakes her head, eyes wild. “I don’t want to forget. I want this.”
That’s all I need.
I pull out, flip her, drag her hips back, and take her from behind with a growl that echoes through the room. She cries out, arching for me, taking every brutal thrust like she was made for it.
My name escapes her on a long moan and it just about undoes me.
“Look at you,” I whisper, one hand wrapped in her hair, the other gripping her hip. “Dripping for the man who chased you down in the woods. Moaning for the monster who beat your enemies to pulp. Begging to belong to a Bratva.”
She doesn’t deny it. She pushes back into me. Meets every single one of my punishing thrusts.
“I want everything,” she gasps. “All of it. All of you.”
I reach around and brush my fingers over her clit as I pound into her. Her body clenches hard, her scream muffled by the pillows, and I lose it. I empty myself inside her with a roar, pressing my chest to her back as the last shockwave hits.
And when we collapse together, tangled and slick with sweat, I don’t move. I can’t.