Chapter 42 #2
I slide closer, carefully watching his reaction. Giving him time to stop me if he needs or wants.
But he doesn’t. He moves closer, tugging me toward him.
“I feel the same way,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
He looks at me, our eyes meeting, and something just clicks.
The world narrows to just us. Here. Now.
The distance between us closes slowly, deliberately, inevitable.
His hand on my leg strokes softly. It’s electric even with the fabric between us. Careful and charged. Like he’s testing the waters every time.
It’s soft at first, barely there. A brush of his thumb against the back of my thigh. The faintest pull drawing me closer.
Then his lips find mine, tentative as always, like he’s afraid I’ll break if he’s not careful. I press closer, lips meeting his just as softly.
But his hesitation only lasts a breath. His hand cups my face, tilting my head the way he wants it.
His lips push against mine, deepening the kiss.
Rough, needy now, his tongue swiping the seam of my lips and begging for entrance.
I give it willingly. Stealing the breath from my lungs.
Like he’s drowning. And like I’m the only thing keeping him afloat.
My fingers curl into his chest. He rolls me onto my back. His body, warm and safe, looms over me. And his thumb caresses my cheek as his lips devour me whole. There’s no space left between us. Every wall I’ve built up, every doubt, slips away in the heat of his body and mouth against mine.
I feel it all. His hunger, his fear, his need to be so much more than what everyone sees him as.
And for the first time, I let myself fall. Really fall.
My fingers move gently through the short hair at the back of his neck, earning a soft rumble from him. Encouraging me to do it again even as our panted breathing fills the room and my lungs burn for oxygen.
He pulls back, eyes scanning my face. “I’m not good enough at this stuff,” he says, his gaze meeting mine. “I don’t know how to do this without breaking it.” He’s talking about our relationship now.
God, this man. My hand slides from his hair to his cheek, softly. “You are more than good enough—I promise you.”
He shakes his head, torn between wanting to believe me and the weight of whatever the world has told him he is.
“I don’t want anyone but you. Just as you are. All of it,” I assure him.
He looks at me then, really looks. And for a moment, that doubt and hardness fall away. Raw vulnerability stares back at me.
It’s beautiful. And heartbreaking.
“I don’t know what you do to me, Avelina.”
“I don’t know what you do to me either, Viktor. But I want it. Whatever it is.”
The kiss that follows isn’t soft or tender. It’s desperate, like we’ve been waiting for this moment far too long. Viktor devours me, fingers strong against my jaw as he angles my face. Hungry yet reverent.
As I lie on my back, his mouth works down my neck, my eyes fluttering closed.
Heat unfurls inside me, simmering beneath my skin wherever his lips trail.
My heart pounds as he kisses along my throat, one hand sliding under my shirt until the fabric bunches.
Fire races through my veins, my breathing hitching with each touch.
In a blur of movement, clothes flutter to the floor in rumpled heaps.
Warm, calloused hands map my body while his mouth continues its worship.
That’s exactly what it is—worship. Goosebumps break across my skin as his breath fans over me.
And down, down, down his mouth travels until he settles between my thighs.
One stroke of Viktor’s tongue, and I’m writhing against the sheets. It’s deliberate and careful, attentive yet unhinged. Like he can’t get enough.
My hands claw at the bedding, clutching desperately as a whimpering moan escapes me.
Viktor’s gaze lifts to mine, his eyes blazing with desire, lust, and something so raw and vulnerable that it steals my breath.
I release the sheets and reach for him, fingers sliding through his mussed hair.
He smirks against me, drawing lazy circles with his tongue while his fingers work in ways that make my toes curl and have me seeing stars.
“Viktor,” I gasp as he uses his fingers to spread me open.
“You taste like mine,” he growls. His words race through my mind, earning a low moan as my hips buck, seeking more.
His lips curve in that almost-smile before he lowers his mouth back to my entrance.
I cry out as his tongue enters me, his rumbling groan vibrating against my core until my legs shake.
He groans again, face buried against me, and I arch into him, writhing. “Come for me, Avelina!” he commands, the words caressing my folds.
I bite my lip to stifle a scream as the heat builds in my belly. “Yes,” I pant. But then he moves, crawling up my body. Hot skin meets hot skin, and I shiver. His hands find my breasts before he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping until my body clenches and my core aches.
My eyes roll back as the tip of his cock slides between my folds, rubbing back and forth. I gasp, wrapping my arms around his neck as his lips descend to my throat.
With one large hand, he pins my arms above my head, arching me against him. With the other, he grips my thigh, hitching my leg over his hip. The movement opens me completely as the head of his cock slips just inside my entrance. His name falls from my lips, my head dropping to the pillow.
His eyes lock on my face, savoring the image of me nearly falling apart.
“More. I need...” Wrapping my other leg around his hip, I pull him in deeper. A moan tears from my lips as stars burst behind my eyes at the delicious stretch. It feels like coming home and taking flight all at once.
He exhales harshly against my lips. “Fuck, baby, stop squeezing me—or this’ll be over too soon.”
I huff out a laugh, and I swear I feel him smile genuinely.
He pushes the rest of the way in, and we moan in unison. Pulling back out, he drops his head to my shoulder as my fingers drift lazily through his hair. His gaze follows where our bodies connect. “Fuck, Avelina,” he whispers. “All this for me?”
“For you,” I murmur.
He thrusts harder this time, watching my face as my lips part at the sudden explosion of pleasure.
“Harder, Viktor,” I plead. “I’m not breakable...”
I’m already close, and each stroke sends me higher. I’m certain he’s edging me on purpose, winding me so tight because he knows what I need before I do.
A growl tears from his throat as he thrusts hard enough to bang the bed against the wall.
Again and again. I scream with pleasure.
Arching my neck and squeezing my eyes shut.
My hips move with his rhythm, my need for release driving me higher.
His grip on my wrists tightens. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to hold me in place, sending delicious warmth through my body.
The peak I’ve been climbing rushes toward me.
And with one final thrust, I’m sent over the edge.
“Viktor, I’m—” A moan cuts me off as ecstasy drags me under. It’s like lightning, ripping through my body without warning. My legs tighten around his hips as I buck against him, squeezing and fluttering around his cock.
“Fuck,” he groans, staring down at me with a look of sheer pleasure and possession that makes me flush and preen at the same time.
I’m trembling as he continues thrusting harder, pressing me into the mattress like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.
Strands of hair stick to his forehead, sweat beading on his flushed skin.
The urge to brush it away overwhelms me, and my wrists twist in his grasp until he releases them.
I smooth the hair from his face and press our mouths together. “More...please, Viktor.”
He parts my lips with his tongue as it tangles with mine, then speeds up his rhythm. I watch with rapt attention as a guttural growl moves up his throat—a sound that makes me clench around him harder. Warmth floods me, and I moan, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
“You’re mine, Avelina,” he pants, softer now. “Mine to protect. I promise you that.”
Despite fighting the wave of emotion, my eyes mist. His words sink deep because I don’t think I’ve ever belonged to someone who didn’t need me for something. And that realization hits hard.
He drops his weight to his forearm, pressing featherlight kisses against my face, and I smile.
“That’s it,” he murmurs before shifting to pull out.
I’ve no doubt I look as thoroughly ravaged as I feel, and I can see his brow knitting with concern.
“You okay?” His voice carries genuine worry. “I wasn’t too rough?”
“God, no.”
“Your wrists? It wasn’t too hard? I should have asked—”
I push up on my forearms and reach for him. “I’m okay. And I loved it. Not as much as touching you, but close.”
He slides two fingers through my swollen flesh, and I shudder when his pupils flare as I clench around them.
“You’re sore.”
I bat my eyelashes and grin. “So?”
He pinches my chin between thumb and forefinger, pulling me toward him as he leans back. “In that case, hands and knees, baby. We’re not done yet.”