Chapter 10
LYRA
“Wait.”
We pause outside the door to my apartment. Julian’s eyes narrow as he leans in and places his ear against the door.
“What is—”
He holds up a finger, and I realize right away what’s going on—he’s checking the apartment for intruders.
My heart races. Did he hear something?
He mouths the word key, and I nod, taking my key ring out of my purse and finding the one for my apartment.
When I unlock the door, he holds up his hand, signaling for me to stay back.
Then he reaches into his coat and takes out a gun.
I cover my mouth so my gasp can’t be heard by whoever might be inside the apartment.
Julian slowly pushes the door open. I lean in just a bit, enough to keep eyes on him.
He moves through the space with precision.
He’s systematic, checking behind the kitchen counter before sweeping to the tiny hallway that leads to the bathroom and bedroom.
Then the bathroom, the closet in the bedroom, under the bed.
He even glances behind the shower curtain.
It almost makes me laugh, but then my blood runs cold when I think about the possibility of someone actually hiding behind it.
The windows and fire escape are next. He tests the locks and scans the street below.
I hate that I now live in a world where I have to worry about things like that.
“Clear,” he says.
I enter the apartment with slow, careful steps, as if I might set off an alarm if I move too quickly.
“Do you do this everywhere you go?” I ask, my heart still racing a bit.
“Not all. Mostly the unsecure ones that I’m unfamiliar with.”
“That must make dinner parties awkward.”
“I don’t do dinner parties,” he says as he slips his gun back into his pocket.
The fairy lights wash gold across his face, softening the angles in an alluring way.
My eyes linger on the place where the gun is. I swallow hard. I’ve never had a gun in my apartment before. Hell, I’ve never even seen one in real life.
“Thank you.”
He nods, then just stares at me.
I want to ask him what he’s looking at, but I don’t. I let the moment hang, then take a deep breath. I know exactly what he’s thinking—that we’re in my apartment, together, alone.
He closes the distance between us in two steps. His big hand comes up to my face, his thumb tracing my jaw, fingers brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I close my eyes and let him touch me in a way I know he shouldn’t.
His touch moves down to my chin. He tilts it up, and I open my eyes, looking directly into his. That color, that beautiful gunmetal gray, reminds me of a winter storm, of solid steel, of something hard and soft all at once.
My breath catches.
“Tell me to stop.” His voice is quiet. I know he’s giving me an exit, if I want to take it.
“No.”
He leans in and kisses me. It’s not like the car, quick and sudden. It’s slower and more intentional. His mouth moves against mine with patience, like he wants to memorize every last detail of my lips. His right hand slides down my side, finding the hem of my shirt and slipping underneath.
I moan as his fingers spread against my bare waist. I close my eyes to savor the warmth and roughness of his palm against my skin. The contact sends pulses through me.
He pulls back just enough to tug the shirt over my head, and I let him. I’m standing at the entrance to my bedroom in a sports bra and sweatsuit bottoms, fairy lights twinkling overhead.
Then the old panic flashes—the self-consciousness, that reflex to cross my arms and angle my body in an attempt to make myself appear smaller. I think of Alexander, the way he’d look at me when I was half naked.
I hope Julian doesn’t notice my hesitation, but of course, he does. His eyes don’t leave mine as his hands come to a rest on my hips with a steadiness that grounds me.
“Don’t hide from me,” he says. “Not ever.”
I nod as his hands move up to the bottom of my sports bra.
He peels it off, and when my breasts fall free, full and heavy, he exhales, like the air’s been knocked out of him.
His hands come up to cup them, and the groan that leaves his mouth as he scoops my breasts is so raw and primal, it makes my pussy clench.
“Christ, Lyra.”
He lets his hands fall down to my hips once more, this time guiding me around and then back toward the bed. He kisses me again, his mouth on my jaw, my throat, my collarbone, then down to my breasts to one nipple and then the other.
The bottoms go next. He hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband and drags them down slowly, sinking to his knees as he does so. God, the sight of Julian Volkov on his knees in my bedroom does something indescribable to me.
He presses his mouth against the softness of my stomach, his lips dragging across the skin below my navel. My instinct is to tense up—this is the part of my body I’m most self-conscious about.
When he drags his tongue across the length of my belly, my knees nearly give out.
“Every inch,” he says against my skin. “Do you understand me? Every single inch.”
More kisses along my hips, stomach, and thighs.
Then—
“Get on the bed.”
The tone of his command is intense, and I do as he asks, stepping backward until my calves brush against the mattress, and I sit. Julian places his hands on my knees and spreads them apart. His eyes lock onto my pussy with an expression of near reverence.
“So fucking beautiful,” he says.
I don’t know how to respond. I’ve never experienced anyone speaking to me in such a way before.
But I don’t think about it for long. He leans forward, kissing along my inner thighs, moving from one to the other. The sight of him moving closer and closer to where I need him is driving me wild.
He takes his time, his hands gripping my thighs. When his mouth finally finds my clit, I come undone.
“Oh… Oh, Julian…”
It’s all I can say. His tongue works me with a focus that borders on obsessive. He holds me open and steady while his tongue drags over my clit, sending electricity of pure pleasure rushing through me.
“Don’t hold back,” he says. “You don’t need to be quiet.”
It’s permission I didn’t know I needed. His tongue moves over me with slow, dragging presses. I moan loudly as the intensity builds, my cries growing in volume when I realize that I’ve spent years being quiet, years being careful and appropriate, and Julian is undoing it all with each lick.
He makes a growl of approval the louder my cries become. The vibration sends me spiraling, and I fall backward onto the mattress.
“Julian… you’re gonna make me…”
He glances up, his lips glistening with my liquid pleasure.
“Then do it. Come for me.”
That’s all I need. The orgasm hits like a wave breaking. My back arches off the bed, my hand fisting in his hair. I cry out, and he works me through it, slower, gentler, his tongue tracing lazy circles while the aftershocks ripple through my thighs.
When he sucks my clit, my vision nearly whites out.
“Oh… my… God…”
“Again.”
It’s a command, not a suggestion.
He slides two fingers inside of me, his mouth staying where it is. The fullness of his fingers inside me, coupled with the pressure of his tongue, is nearly devastating. He curls his fingers, finding my G-spot easily.
I shatter almost instantly, the second orgasm even more powerful than the first. It rolls through me in hot waves that start at my center and radiate outward until I’m trembling from head to toe. My thighs are clamped around his head, and all I can do is moan, “Oh God, Oh God” over and over.
Julian kisses the inside of my thigh—gently, tenderly—then stands and pulls off the Henley in one swift motion.
His body is exactly what I’d expected, but still nothing I was prepared for.
He’s broad and hard, and covered in ink.
I let my eyes wander over the Bratva tattoos, designs that travel up his arms and across his chest.
Over his heart is a single star, the North Star. I want to ask about it. And I want to put my mouth on it.
He unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants. The rest of his clothes hit the floor. I gasp when I see how big he is—thick and hard—a bead of cum at the end of his head that I want to lick off with my tongue.
The way he’s looking at me, naked on my bed with my hair wrecked and my thighs still shaking…
“You’re staring,” he says.
“I kinda can’t help it. And so are you.”
“You’re worth staring at,” he replies, not missing a beat.
“Come here,” I say. “Please.”
He climbs over me—one knee between my legs, then the other, his body blanketing mine completely. I feel secure, not bound.
His skin is hot against mine, his chest solid against my breasts. When he kisses me, I can taste myself on his lips. It’s sexy and filthy, and I love it.
“Condom,” he says. “Protection.”
I shake my head. “I’m on the Pill.” I can’t believe I’d gotten so wrapped up in the moment that I’d forgotten about something so important. “Don’t need one.”
I can’t wait any longer. I reach down and take him by the base. He moves with me, lining himself up, the tip of his length pressing in.
I close my eyes and prepare for the sensation of him inside of me.
But it doesn’t come.
“Look at me.”
I look into those gorgeous eyes staring down at me as he enters me slowly, inch by delicious inch. Julian stretches me with a cruel patience, his jaw tight as he goes deeper. He stops when I gasp—it’s a lot, he’s a lot. He waits, his forehead pressing against mine.
“Breathe,” he says.
I realize that I’d forgotten to do just that. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, letting it out slowly. He starts moving again, gently, until he’s buried to the hilt, his balls pressed snug against my ass.
When we both exhale at the same time, I’m in awe of the sheer intimacy of it. He stays still for what feels like a perfectly endless moment, letting me savor the sensation of his cock deep inside me.
He goes slow at first, pulling back and driving into me at a pace that allows me to get used to his size. The strokes are long, dragging thrusts that almost pull all the way out, the thick head pausing at my entrance before sinking back inside, inch by inch, until I’m gasping at the pressure.
Every thrust sends sparks shooting up my spine, and I feel him everywhere—in my belly and thighs, in my nipples that tighten into aching peaks with each glide.
I grip his shoulders, my nails digging into the hard muscle there.
“Julian,” I moan. “Just like that. Please. Just… just like that.”
He keeps the pace, and I begin settling into that perfect, trancelike state.
My vision blurs around his sculpted muscles and the inked designs that cover them.
I flex my nails down his back, feeling the shiver that rolls through him, the growl that vibrates against my throat as he leans in to kiss me there.
“You feel like heaven,” he whispers. “Pure heaven.”
I answer by wrapping my legs tighter around him. He drives harder and faster, his hips snapping with a devastating rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, broken only by my whimpers.
“I’m so close, Julian. So goddamn close.”
His big hand slides under my thigh, fingers splaying over the soft flesh there, lifting me and spreading me wider. The new angle is merciless. The thick head of his cock drags over that electric spot inside with every plunge, and I cry out, sharp and helpless, the pleasure too much to take.
I arch off the bed, teetering right on the edge, my inner walls gripping him tightly.
“Together,” he growls against my mouth, the word hot and possessive. “With me. Now.”
He drives in deep, the third stroke grinding against my clit, and I break. The orgasm tears through me, a shattering wave that rips a scream from my throat. My whole body seizes as my walls pulse around him, slick heat flooding between us, as I come harder than I ever have.
Julian follows instantly. His body goes rigid, every muscle tense as he buries himself and holds there, pulsing. I close my eyes and focus on the thick jets of heat spilling inside me.
He drops his forehead to my shoulder, sweat-slicked hair sticking to my skin, his breath ragged and hot against my neck, as his hips jerk involuntarily as his orgasm fades.
We stay like that for several moments, breathing each other in.
His hand finds my hip, his thumb tracing slow circles on the curve there.
It’s the fullest part of me, the part I’ve spent years trying to hide.
But the way he touches me makes it clear he craves it just as much as every other part of me.
He rolls to the side and pulls me against him, my back to his chest, his arm heavy around my waist. The fairy lights glow overhead as the city hums outside the window.
My heart rate slows, and I fall asleep in his arms, a whisper of a smile on my lips, as I drift off, more content than I’ve been in a long, long time.