35. Sophie
35
SOPHIE
H e doesn't respond with words, just a smirk that sends shivers down my spine. His touch is possessive, his gaze unwavering.
He slides his hand up my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. My camisole feels suddenly constricting, like it's holding me back from something primal.
With one swift motion, he tugs the delicate fabric over my head, exposing my bare skin to the room's warm air. I gasp, not out of shock, but anticipation.
His eyes darken as they roam over my body, lingering on the curve of my breasts, the slight rise and fall of my chest with each breath.
"You were asking for this," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, sending a thrill through me. "You wanted this to end here."
I bite my lip, unable to deny it. "Maybe I did."
He releases my wrist, letting his hands roam freely now. One hand cups my breast, thumb brushing against my nipple, while the other slides down to the waistband of my panties.
With a tug, he pulls them down, leaving me completely bare before him. The cool air hits my skin, making me shiver, but it's his proximity that makes my blood boil.
"On your knees," he commands, his tone brooking no argument.
I comply without hesitation, my heart pounding in my chest. He stands tall, revealing the hard planes of his chest.
His cock strains against the fabric, demanding release. I reach up, tracing the outline with my finger.
"Take off your pants," I demand, my voice stronger than I expected. "Show me what you've got."
A growl rumbles in his throat as he unbuckles his belt, pushing down his pants and boxers in one motion. His cock springs free, thick and throbbing, an invitation and a threat all at once. I lick my lips, hunger overwhelming any sense of decorum.
"Please," I beg, my voice husky. "I want to taste you."
He doesn't waste time granting my wish. With a forceful push, he lowers himself onto my chest, positioning his cock right at my mouth.
I take him in eagerly, sucking him deep into my throat. His groans echo in the room, mingling with the sounds of the fire.
"Fuck, Sophie," he mutters, his hands gripping my hair tightly. "You know how to make a man lose control."
I hum in response, the vibrations driving him wild. His hips thrust slightly, guiding my head, but it's not enough.
I need more, craving the feel of him inside me, filling me up. I pull back, looking up at him with hooded eyes.
"Maxim," I say, my voice steady despite the desire raging within me. "I want your cock inside me. Fuck me. Make me yours."
His eyes flare with passion, his control slipping. He stands, stripping off the rest of his clothes with a predatory grace.
The sight of his fully naked body sends a jolt of heat through me. He kneels beside me, his mouth descending on mine, his kiss possessive, claiming.
"Say it again," he demands, his voice rough with need. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you," I gasp, breaking the kiss.
“What do you want from me?”
"I want your cock inside me. Now."
He doesn't waste a second. Positioning himself at my entrance, he pushes in slowly, deliberately, stretching me, filling me inch by agonizing inch.
I arch my back, my nails digging into his shoulders as he sinks deeper. The feeling of being full is intoxicating.
"Yes," I moan, my voice breaking. "God, yes, Maxim."
He begins to move, his thrusts slow and measured at first, a tease designed to drive me mad. But I can see the strain in his eyes, the raw need barely contained. I meet his gaze, challenging him.
"Faster," I demand, my voice cracking with urgency. "Harder, Maxim. Don't hold back."
He growls, picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more desperate. The sound of our bodies colliding fills the room, a symphony of primal urges.
His hands move to my hips, holding me still as he plunges into me, his cock hitting all the right spots.
"So tight," he grunts, his breath hot against my ear. "You're mine, Sophie. All mine."
"Yours," I pant, my body trembling with the effort of keeping up with him. "Always yours."
He shifts his position slightly, his angle changing, and I cry out as he hits a spot that sends shocks of pleasure rippling through me.
His fingers find my clit, rubbing circles in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation is too much, too intense, and I come apart beneath him, my orgasm tearing through me like a hurricane.
"Fuck, Sophie," he groans, his voice strained. "So good. So fucking good."
My inner walls clamp down on him, milking him, and he follows me over the edge, spilling himself deep inside me.
We collapse together, sweat-slicked and panting, our hearts beating in unison.
He rolls off me, lying beside me on the rug, his hand resting protectively on my stomach. I turn my head to look at him, my breathing still ragged.
“You’re good at cards,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “Better than I expected.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “And you’re full of surprises. I didn’t peg you as the type to indulge in strip poker.”
He turns slightly, his lips curving into that faint smirk. “I didn’t peg you as the type to agree.”
“You dared me,” I reply, meeting his gaze. “And I’m terrible at backing down from a challenge.”
“That much is clear.”
The smirk fades, replaced by something quieter. “That’s what gets most people killed in my world. Challenges. The inability to back down.”
I frown, watching him. There’s a gravity to his tone that pulls me in. “Is that why you’re still alive? Because you don’t take risks?”
He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “No. I’m alive because I know which risks are worth taking.”
“And this?” I ask, gesturing between us. “Am I a risk?”
His eyes flick to me, and for a moment, they’re completely unguarded. “More than I’d like to admit.”
“Do you ever wish…” I hesitate, unsure if I’m crossing a line. “What if I was wrong about Dimitri? He told you I was the mole, didn’t he?”
He shakes his head, his expression hard but distant. “You were sure and I trust you. Time will tell if I made the right decision.”
He looks away, his jaw tightening, and for a moment, I think that’s the end of it. But then he speaks, his voice lower, weighted with something personal and painful.
“My father believed in people. It was his greatest strength and his greatest flaw. That’s why he let her in.”
I frown slightly. “Her?”
“My mother,” he says flatly. The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. “She wasn’t who he thought she was.”
His tone is distant, like he’s forcing himself to look back at something he’s spent years trying to forget. I stay quiet, letting him continue.
“She was charismatic. The kind of woman who could make you believe in miracles. But underneath it all, she was a wreck.
“My father met her when she was at her worst. She was an addict, barely holding herself together. But he didn’t see that—or maybe he just didn’t want to. He saw someone he was sure he could save.”
I swallow hard, the image he’s painting settling uneasily in my mind. “Did she want to be saved?”
“She said she did,” he says bitterly. “And maybe she believed it for a while. He got her into treatment, stayed by her side, believed her every time she swore she’d changed.”
His lips press into a thin line, and I see the flicker of something raw in his eyes. “But addiction... it doesn’t let go so easily. And she she didn’t fight it. She just got better at hiding it. At lying.”
The pain in his voice is unmistakable now, and my chest tightens. I can see the boy he must have been, watching it all. The same childhood as me, despite all our differences.
“One night, she took money from him. A lot of money,” he continues, his voice steadier now but no less hollow. “He was furious. Thought she was using again. She swore she wasn’t, begged him to believe her. He forgave her. Told him she’d never do it again.”
“But she did,” I say quietly, already knowing where this is going.
“She did,” he confirms, his tone colder now. “And the next time, it was worse. She didn’t just steal from him—she betrayed him. She went to Federico, traded information for cash and a fix. She didn’t care what it meant for him, for us.”
I blink, stunned. “What happened?”
“She overdosed in the end,” he says bluntly, his voice devoid of emotion. “On the drugs they gave her. Federico’s drugs. I was the one who found her. I was just a kid, and I walked into her room, thinking she was asleep.”
“But she wasn’t?”
My heart clenches painfully. “Maxim…”
He shakes his head sharply, cutting off whatever comfort I was about to offer. “Don’t. She made her choices. And my father paid the price for believing in her. He never recovered from it—not emotionally, not financially. It broke him. Took me years of work to claw back what she sold so cheaply.”
He turns back to me, his gaze hard but laced with something deeper—something raw and unguarded. “That’s why I find it hard to trust people. Why I don’t believe in redemption or second chances. Because when you let people in, when you give them power over you, they destroy you.”
His words hang between us, heavy and unrelenting. I want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but I can see the pain etched into his features, the scars left behind by a lifetime of betrayal and loss.
I realize just how much he’s had to carry—and how much it’s shaped the man standing in front of me.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, the words feeling inadequate but sincere. “No one should have to go through that. Especially not a child.”
For a moment, his gaze softens, and I see a flicker of something vulnerable beneath the hardened exterior. But then it’s gone, replaced by the same steely resolve he always wears like armor.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says finally, his voice cold again. “It made me who I am. And it taught me one thing: never trust anyone.”
“But you said you trust me.”
He shrugs. “You went through the same thing. You saw your mother die.”
“I didn’t find her body. My grandmother did. I was in school, came home to the ambulance outside, and a whole load of questions I couldn’t answer.”
I look up at him. “I tried trusting people, over and over. God help me, I’m trying to trust you, but I don’t know if I’m making the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Maybe you are,” he replies, the shutters coming down again as he glances up at my laptop. “Your routine has finished.”
I want to tell him to keep talking but I know it’ll be pointless. He’s already on his feet getting dressed. “Next time you take a break, find me. I’m going to teach you how to shoot.”