63. Sophie
63
SOPHIE
M axim and I stroll down the cobblestone streets of Rook’s Hollow, the golden evening sun casting a warm glow over the quaint town.
The scent of fresh bread wafts from a nearby bakery, mingling with the faint aroma of blooming flowers that line the sidewalks. His hand brushes against mine as we walk.
“Grandma and Victor seem cozy,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence.
Maxim smirks, a rare flicker of humor lighting his features. “Cozy is one word for it. Reckless might be another.”
“Reckless?” I raise a brow, amused. “Because they’re in love or because Victor laughed when Grandma threatened him with that spatula?”
He glances at me sideways, his dark eyes softening. “Both.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “At least they’re happy. Isn’t that the whole point?”
“Is it?” His voice carries an edge of curiosity, as if he’s genuinely pondering the question. “Happiness has never been the endgame for me.”
I stop walking, turning to face him. “Then what is?”
He pauses, his gaze locking with mine. “It used to be power. Control. The city was all that mattered.” He reaches for my hand, his fingers brushing mine before entwining them together. “But now I think everything I want is standing right here.”
My breath catches, the weight of his words sinking deep into my chest. For a man like Maxim, who spent his life guarding his heart, this kind of vulnerability feels monumental.
“You’re such a liar,” I tease, though my voice wavers slightly. “You just don’t want me to ask for a share of your peanut butter stash.”
He chuckles, low and rich. “True. That’s a perk of being a Bratva boss. I get to keep what’s mine.”
We start walking again, the silence between us now tinged with something warmer, something unspoken but understood. My hand remains in his, and I don’t let go.
As we reach the outskirts of town, the cobblestones give way to a grassy path that winds through a patch of woods.
The rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets create a serene backdrop. Maxim stops suddenly, turning me toward him.
“What do you see for the future, Sophie?” he asks, his voice low but steady.
I hesitate, glancing down at where our hands are joined. “I see our daughter growing up with two parents who love her. I see a thriving business where I don’t have to worry about Federico, Evan, or anyone else. And... I see you.”
“Me?” His brow lifts slightly, his expression unreadable.
“You,” I repeat firmly. “Not Maxim Abramov, the Bratva boss. Just you. The man who saved my grandma, who held my hand when I was scared, who hides peanut butter like it's a state treasure.”
I lean up, my lips brushing against his. It starts slow, soft, but the tenderness quickly gives way to something deeper.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him, and the world around us fades until it’s just him and me.
My chest tightens, tears stinging my eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad I decided to trust you. You said you’d save Grandma and you did.”
With that, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me into the shadows of the building.
His lips find mine, fierce and demanding, and I respond in kind, kissing him back with equal intensity. Our tongues clash, battle, explore. It’s raw, primal, and it leaves me breathless.
His hands roam my body, gripping, pulling, molding me to him. I can feel his desire, hard and unrelenting against my thigh. My own need grows, pooling between my legs, throbbing with each touch, each kiss.
"Maxim," I moan, breaking the kiss. My chest heaves with each breath, my nipples hardening beneath my shirt. "Please…"
He smirks, his eyes boring into mine. "Begging already, sweetheart? Didn’t take long."
I bite my lip, trying to hide my embarrassment, but he sees it. He always sees everything. "Just make me yours," I whisper, my voice trembling.
His expression softens, just for a moment, before he resumes his dominance. "That’s what I intend to do, my needy wife."
He spins me around, pressing me against the cold brick wall. His hand slides under my shirt, finding my breast.
He squeezes, fingers pinching my nipple until I gasp. "Do you like that, Sophie? Do you like being controlled?"
"Yes," I pant, arching my back to give him better access. "You know I do."
He hums in approval, moving his hand lower, down to the waistband of my jeans. With one swift motion, he undoes the button, freeing my aching core. His fingers dip inside, sliding through the wetness, circling my clit.
"Such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "So eager to please."
I whimper, my body betraying me, bowing to his touch. "Maxim… more… please…"
He chuckles, low and amused. "Patience, my love. We have all night."
His fingers continue their relentless dance, exploring every inch of me, pushing me closer to the edge with each pass.
I’m on fire, burning for him, desperate for release. But he’s not ready to give it to me yet. He likes to tease, to draw it out, to watch me fall apart piece by piece.
"Tell me what you want, Sophie," he commands, his voice firm. "Tell me how much you need me."
I groan, my resolve crumbling under his demand. "I want you, Maxim. I need you inside me. Please…"
His eyes gleam with triumph. "Good girl."
He removes his fingers. My body protests, aching for his touch, but he ignores it, unzipping his pants with deliberate slowness. My eyes devour him, taking in every inch of his hardened length, desperately wanting to feel him inside me.
"Come here," he orders, crooking his finger.
I obey, stepping forward, my heart pounding in my chest. He wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him. The other hand guides himself to my entrance, pressing just the tip against my throbbing core.
"Ready for me, Sophie?" he asks, his voice a low rumble against my ear.
"Yes," I whisper. "Take me, Maxim."
And with that, he thrusts inside, filling me completely. I cry out, my body clenching around him, welcoming his invasion.
He moves slowly at first, letting me adjust, savoring the way I tighten around him. Then he picks up speed, pistoning into me with increasing urgency.
"Fuck, Sophie," he grits out, his face contorting with exertion. "You feel so damn good."
I can only nod, too overwhelmed by sensation to speak. His thrusts grow harder, faster, driving me to the brink. I can feel myself teetering on the edge, desperate for release.
"Maxim… I’m gonna…"
He leans down, capturing my lips in a bruising kiss. "Come for me, my love."
Maxim's hands grip my hips, pulling me tighter against him as he continues his relentless rhythm. His breath is ragged, hot against my ear, and I can sense the storm building within him.
"You're mine," he growls, his voice thick with possessive intensity. "Only mine."
I arch into him, my nails digging into his shoulders. The dominance in his voice sends a thrill through me, a deep, primal satisfaction that makes my core tighten even more around him. "Yes," I gasp, "always yours."
His thrusts become brutal, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. My breaths come in short, desperate pants, and I know I’m close—so close.
"Maxim… please…" I whisper.
"Come for me, Sophie," he commands, his voice low and rough. "Show me how much you want this.”
With a cry, I shatter, my body convulsing around him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me. I can feel myself tightening uncontrollably, milking him with every pulse of my orgasm.
Maxim groans deeply, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. "Fuck, Sophie… so tight…"
I cling to him, my body still twitching from the intensity of my climax.
He holds me close, his movements slowing as he approaches his own peak.
Finally, with one last, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside me and comes with a guttural moan.
We stay like that for a moment, locked together in the aftermath of our shared pleasure. His breathing gradually slows, and he relaxes against me, his forehead resting against mine.
"I love you," he whispers, his voice tender now, a stark contrast to the fierce dominance of moments before.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I brush my lips against his. "I love you too, Maxim."
He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes searching mine. "Say it again."
"I love you," I repeat, my voice steady, my heart swelling with emotion. “My husband, father of my child, and protector of my heart.”