41. Sophie
41
SOPHIE
W e enter my bedroom without speaking. My heart still pounds from the fight, the adrenaline simmering just below the surface. I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands clasped tightly in my lap as I watch him check the windows, the corners, every possible threat.
“Secure,” he says at last, turning to face me. His eyes are darker than usual, shadows of the ambush still lingering in their depths. “You should get cleaned up,” he says. “I need to call Nikolai.”
I nod, standing on shaky legs, heading through to the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror is unrecognizable—dirt smudges my face, my hair a wild mess, my eyes wide and haunted. I splash water on my face, scrubbing away the grime, but it doesn’t touch the unease clinging to my skin.
I could have died tonight. Pregnant with Maxim’s child. He’d never have known. I put my hand on my stomach. I have to tell him.
When I return to the room, Maxim is seated in one of the chairs by the window, his posture relaxed but his gaze far away. The air between us feels heavier than before.
“You knew it was an ambush,” he says. “How?”
“A guess.”
He eyes me suspiciously for a moment. “A fucking good one.”
“You think I want you dead?” I ask. “I’ve still got the gun you gave me. I could have shot you any time.”
He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose you could.”
“Where did you learn to move like that? You were like a ninja or something.”
His gaze flicks to mine, something unreadable passing over his face. “It’s what I do.”
“That doesn’t make it less impressive,” I reply, taking a tentative step closer. “Or less terrifying.”
“That’s all I’ve ever been. Violence. Control. Survival. There’s no room for anything else.”
I swallow hard, his words hitting me harder than I expected. “That’s not true.”
He looks at me then, really looks at me, his expression hard but his eyes betraying a flicker of something softer. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” I step closer, my voice trembling but determined. “I’ve seen you protect me, trust me, even when you didn’t want to. You can say you’re just a monster, Maxim, but I don’t believe that.”
He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “You’re wrong. And one day, you’ll see the truth.”
“Maybe,” I admit, taking another step forward. “But not today.”
The distance between us disappears in an instant. One second, we’re staring at each other, the tension coiled so tight it feels like the room might shatter, and the next, his hands are on my waist, pulling me close.
The kiss is rough, desperate, every emotion we’ve been fighting pouring into it.
My hands tangle in his shirt, pulling him closer as his grip tightens on me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
The taste of him is intoxicating—vodka and adrenaline and something distinctly Maxim.
We stumble toward the bed, the world narrowing down to the press of his lips against mine, the heat of his hands on my skin. Every touch is electric, every kiss igniting something deeper, something I can’t ignore.
The anger, the fear, the vulnerability—it all melts away, leaving only us. He moves with the same precision he showed in the fight, every touch deliberate, every movement calculated to undo me completely.
And I let him. I should be telling him I’m pregnant but all I do is let him kiss me.
Every nerve in my body is electric, each breath a ragged gasp as I try to steady myself. He stands over me, his tall frame casting a shadow that wraps around me like a protective cage.
His eyes, dark and intense, bore into mine, and I see the same mix of adrenaline and something else—something primal—swirling in their depths.
"You did well," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. “I should have listened to your instincts and brought more men.”
He pulls me up, my feet stumbling against the floor until I’m flush against him.
"Maxim, what?—"
"Shh," he interrupts, his fingers pressing against my lips. "Just listen."
His touch is firm, commanding, and yet there’s a tenderness in it that takes me by surprise. He leans in closer, so close that I can feel his breath ghosting across my skin.
The air between us crackles with tension, and I’m acutely aware of how vulnerable I am standing here, pressed against this powerful man.
His hand comes down hard on my ass, the sound echoing through the silent room.
The sting is immediate, sharp and shocking, and I yelp involuntarily, my body jerking in response. But instead of pulling away, I find myself pressing into the sensation, craving more.
"Fuck, Maxim!" I gasp, my voice breaking with a mix of pain and arousal. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?"
He doesn’t answer, just gives me another spank, this one even harder than the first.
My ass throbs with each strike, the ache spreading like wildfire through my body. I can feel my nipples hardening under my shirt, my clit throbbing in time with the stinging blows.
"That’s it, Sophie," he murmurs, his hand gliding up to cup my cheek. "Take it. Take everything I’m giving you."
His words send a shiver of excitement through me, and I tilt my head up, our eyes locking in an unspoken challenge.
His gaze is fierce, possessive, and I can’t look away, can’t resist the pull of his will.
With each passing second, I feel myself falling deeper into his control, my resistance crumbling under the weight of his authority.
"Please," I whisper. He hears me. He always does.
Without warning, he spins me around, pushing me face-first onto the bed. I gasp as my hands slam against the wooden headboard. Before I can react, his hand comes down on my ass again, this time with a force that makes me cry out.
"God, yes," I moan, grinding my hips back against him. "Give it to me, Maxim. Harder."
He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hand comes down again and again, each blow sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through my body.
I can feel myself getting wetter, my pussy aching for him, desperate for the release that only he can give me.
"That’s my good girl," he growls, his hand moving to grip my hip.
His praise pushes me over the edge, and I arch my back, offering myself to him completely. The bed shifts as he moves, and I feel the heat of his body behind me, his cock pressing against my thigh. The anticipation is unbearable, and I bite my lip, trying to hold back a moan.
"Please, Maxim," I beg again, my voice trembling with need. "I need you in me."
He doesn’t make me wait. With a groan, he lifts my skirt, exposing my bare ass to the cool air.
His hand trails down, brushing against the sensitive skin, and I shiver at the contact. Then, without warning, he sinks two fingers deep inside me, his thumb circling my clit with relentless pressure.
"Fuck, you’re so wet for me," he whispers, his voice thick with arousal. "Tell me how much you want it, Sophie."
"Oh god, yes," I pant, my hips bucking against his hand. "I want it, Maxim. I want you inside me, now."
He chuckles darkly, his fingers withdrawing before thrusting back in, this time with a fierceness that leaves me breathless.
I can feel the coil inside me tightening, the pressure building with each stroke of his hand. My orgasm is close, so close that I can taste it, and I push back against him, desperate for release.
"Come for me, Sophie," he commands, his voice a low growl. "Let go."
And I do. With a cry that rips from my throat, I come hard, my body spasming around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash over me.
For a moment, I’m lost in the sensations, my mind blank except for the feeling of his hand buried inside me, his thumb rubbing circles on my clit.
When my climax finally fades, I collapse against the bed, my chest heaving with the effort of breathing.
He withdraws his hand slowly, letting his fingers trail along my inner thighs before pulling me back against him. His arms wrap around my waist, holding me close as he presses a kiss to the back of my neck.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, let’s finish this properly."
He positions himself behind me, his cock nudging against my entrance. I gasp, my body trembling with anticipation as he aligns himself with my slick folds.
"Are you ready for me?" he asks, his voice laced with desire.
"Yes," I breathe, my hands gripping the headboard tightly. "Please, Maxim. Please."
With a growl, he thrusts into me, filling me completely. I cry out at the sudden fullness, my body adjusting to the intrusion.
He holds still for a moment, his hands gripping my hips tightly as he waits for me to adjust. Then, slowly, he begins to move, pulling out and thrusting back in with deliberate precision.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his voice strained with effort. "So tight and wet for me."
I can’t respond, my mind too focused on the sensations overwhelming me. His thrusts are slow, controlled, but each one hits deep inside me, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through my body.
I can feel my orgasm building again, the pressure coiling tighter with each thrust of his hips.
"Maxim," I moan, my voice wavering as the intensity grows. "I’m… I’m gonna?—"
"Do it," he commands, his voice harsh. "Come for me, Sophie. Let me feel you come around me."
His words are the final push I need. With a scream, I come again, my body convulsing around his cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me.
He follows immediately, his thrusts becoming erratic as he finds his own release, his hot seed filling me up as he comes inside me.
For a long moment, neither of us moves, our bodies locked together in the aftermath of our mutual climax. Finally, he withdraws with a groan, collapsing beside me on the narrow bed.
"Jesus, Sophie," he mutters, his voice rough with exhaustion. "You’re something else."
I turn to face him, my eyes meeting his with a mixture of triumph and satisfaction. "You’re not so bad yourself."