Chapter 16
Nikolai
I leaned back against the counter, letting the silence stretch between us as her words echoed in my head.
Boyfriend.
It shouldn’t have rattled me. I’d stood toe-to-toe with men twice my size, taken hits that left bruises for weeks, watched blood drip down the side of my face and still skated on. But that word—soft, simple, absurdly domestic—landed heavier than any punch I’d ever taken.
It didn’t fit. Not with the armor I’d built around myself. Not with the name they’d given me—Reaper. Not with the cold, disciplined life I’d perfected to keep the world at arm’s length. And yet… when Mina said it, it didn’t sound like a label. It sounded like belonging.
I ran a hand over my jaw, exhaling slowly. How the hell had she done this? Less than a week ago, she was a complication—a consequence of a bet I never should’ve made. Now? Now she was curled into the center of everything I didn’t know how to name.
The kitchen still smelled like her—vanilla shampoo, sugar, something floral and faintly wild.
Her mug sat abandoned on the counter, lipstick smudged against the rim.
My hoodie swallowed her whole when she wore it, sleeves trailing past her fingertips, and I liked that.
Liked knowing something of mine wrapped around her skin.
She had this way of looking at me like she saw straight through the shields, like I wasn’t just some blunt instrument built for scoring goals and breaking teeth. And it scared the hell out of me how badly I wanted her to keep looking. To stay.
Mina had tangled herself into the threads of my life faster than I could unravel them. And the truth was, I didn’t want to. Not anymore.
So maybe I wasn’t a boyfriend. Not in the traditional sense.
But I was hers. God help me—I was already hers.
She looked so small in my hoodie, like the fabric had claimed her the same way I wanted to.
The sleeves dangled past her fingers, her shoulders swallowed up in soft cotton that still held the shape of me.
A flicker of something dark and protective sparked low in my chest when my eyes landed on the mark I’d left on her neck.
Mine. The thought wasn’t rational, but it was real—and it burned through me like fire in my bloodstream.
She sat on the counter, legs swinging lightly, her expression caught somewhere between relaxed and curious. And that was the thing about her—she didn’t even have to try. Just sitting there, wearing my clothes, she managed to unmake me without saying a word.
I stepped closer. Her eyes lifted to meet mine, wide and steady, a glint of challenge hiding behind the softness. That spark—the one that got under my skin from the start—flared to life again. I leaned in until our breaths tangled, my hands braced on either side of her on the counter.
“Hey,” I said, voice low.
Her lips parted. “Hey.”
That was all it took.
I kissed her slowly at first, a test and a claim all in one.
Her fingers curled against my chest, grounding us both.
She tasted like something I couldn’t name—warm and sweet, like safety wrapped in fire.
My hands found her legs, trailing along the bare skin where the hem of the hoodie stopped.
The heat that coiled in my gut threatened to unravel everything I’d worked to hold back.
She didn’t pull away.
Instead, she leaned into me like she belonged there. And maybe… maybe she did.
I pulled back only slightly, needing air but not distance. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining, and she looked at me like I was both the chaos and the calm she wanted to run toward.
“You’re trouble,” I murmured, brushing a thumb along her thigh.
She grinned, that spark dancing behind her lashes. “Maybe you like trouble.”
I didn’t answer.
I just knew she was right.
I knelt before her, the cool tile beneath my knees grounding me as everything else narrowed to just her. Mina—flushed, breath catching, her eyes wide as if she couldn’t quite believe what was happening—looked down at me with a mix of curiosity and heat that stole the air from my lungs.
I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her ankle, slow and reverent. Her skin was warm beneath my lips, soft in a way that made my chest ache. “Mina,” I murmured, her name barely a breath, as if speaking it too loud might shatter the moment.
Her leg shifted slightly, not away, but closer. She didn’t say a word, but the invitation was there—in the way her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter, in the slight hitch of her breath as I trailed another kiss higher, just below her knee.
I looked up at her. “Are you sure?” My voice was low, steady. I needed her to hear the question for what it was—permission, not pressure.
She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”
That one word cracked something open in me. I leaned forward again, this time letting my hands rest on her thighs, feeling the tension and heat humming through both of us. I didn’t rush. I just kissed the inside of her knee, slow, deliberate, keeping my eyes on her face the whole time.
Her breath trembled, her gaze locked to mine. I could see the battle playing out behind her eyes—the trust, the vulnerability, the fear of letting someone see her this unguarded.
I slowly pulled down her shorts, my hands steady despite the storm raging inside me.
She lifted her hips slightly, helping me, her breath hitching as the fabric slid down her thighs.
When she was bare before me, I paused, taking in the sight of her—vulnerable, trusting, more beautiful than anything I deserved.
I leaned in, pressing my face against her mound, and inhaled deeply. Her scent filled my lungs—warm, musky, intoxicating. A groan rumbled from my chest, low and primal, as every nerve in my body ignited. I was hard, painfully so, just from her scent, her proximity, the trust she placed in me.
“Nikolai,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but it echoed through me like a shout. I looked up at her, seeing the mix of desire and nervousness in her eyes. It was a heady combination, one that made me want to both ravage her and cherish her.
I shifted slightly, my gaze dropping to her pussy. Her lips were glistening with slickness, a sight that sent a surge of heat coursing through me. I wanted to taste her, to feel her come undone against my mouth. But I also wanted to savor this moment, to draw out every second of her pleasure.
I ran a finger lightly along her inner thigh, feeling the softness of her skin, the tremble of her muscles. She gasped, her hips jerking slightly, and I smiled, loving how responsive she was to my touch.
“You’re so wet for me, malen’kaya,” I murmured, my voice thick with desire. “So fucking perfect.”
Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she spread her legs a little wider, opening herself up to me completely. It was an invitation, a surrender, and it made my heart pound in my chest.
I leaned in again, this time letting my tongue trace a slow, deliberate path along her slit. She moaned, her hands gripping the edge of the counter tightly, her body arching toward me.
I groaned again, the taste of her sending waves of pleasure crashing through me.
This was more than just physical need. It was a connection, a claiming, a promise. And as I delved deeper, exploring every inch of her with my tongue, I knew that I was lost. Completely, utterly lost in her. And I never wanted to be found.
"God, you taste so fucking good," I growled, my voice vibrating against her sensitive flesh. I could feel her muscles tensing, her body responding to every flick of my tongue.
She gasped, her hips jerking as I circled her clit with the tip of my tongue. "Nikolai..." Her voice was a breathless plea, a mix of desperation and desire that sent a surge of heat coursing through me.
I slid two fingers inside her, feeling her tighten around me. She was so wet, so ready, and it was all for me. I pumped my fingers in and out, my mouth never leaving her clit, my tongue working her into a frenzy.
"You're so tight, malen’kaya," I murmured, my voice low and rough. "So fucking perfect."
She moaned, her body arching toward me, her hips moving in sync with my fingers. I could feel her getting closer, her muscles tensing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"That's it, baby," I whispered, my voice a dark promise. "Come for me. Let me feel you come undone."
Her body convulsed, her muscles clenching around my fingers as she cried out, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. I kept my mouth on her, my tongue lapping up every drop of her pleasure, my fingers slowing but not stopping until she rode out every last shudder.
When she finally stilled, I pulled back, my gaze locking onto hers. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glazed with satisfaction, and a soft smile played on her lips.
"Wow," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.
I smirked, a sense of pride and satisfaction filling me. "Just the beginning, malen’kaya," I promised, my voice a low rumble. "Just the beginning."
I kissed her deeply, pouring every ounce of desire and conflict into the connection. Her lips parted, granting me entry, and I explored her mouth with a hunger that surprised even me. She tasted sweet, like the lingering remnants of sugar and something uniquely her. It was intoxicating.
"How do you taste?" I murmured against her lips, my voice a low rumble that echoed through the quiet room.
She moaned softly; the sound vibrating through me and sending a shiver down my spine.
Her hands began to explore, running up and down my bare chest, tracing the lines of my muscles as if they were a roadmap to my soul.
Each touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, igniting a fire that burned hotter with every passing second.
Her fingers trailed lower, dipping beneath the waistband of my pajama pants.
I held my breath, anticipating the moment when she would touch me, when she would take control in a way that both excited and terrified me.
Her hands were warm and confident, moving with a purpose that belied her innocent demeanor.
She locked eyes with me as she pulled out my cock, her gaze steady and unyielding. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—a challenge, a promise—that made my heart race. How did she know how to touch me like this? How did she know exactly what I needed, what I craved?
Her touch was gentle at first, her fingers tracing the length of me with a feather-light touch that sent shivers down my spine. But then her grip tightened, her movements becoming more deliberate, more confident. She seemed so innocent, and yet...
There was a darkness in her eyes, a hunger that matched my own. It was as if she could see straight through me, straight to the core of who I was. And in that moment, I knew that I was lost. Completely, utterly lost in her.
Her thumb brushed over the sensitive tip of my cock. I groaned, my hips jerking involuntarily as pleasure coursed through me. She smiled, a slow, satisfied smile that made my heart race even faster.
"You like that?" she whispered, her voice a soft purr that sent shivers down my spine.
I nodded, unable to form words, unable to do anything but feel. She continued to stroke me, her movements slow and deliberate, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from deep within me. I could feel the tension building, the pressure growing, the need for release becoming almost unbearable.
But I didn't want this to end. I didn't want to lose this connection, this moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure. So I held back, my body trembling with the effort, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
And through it all, she watched me, her eyes never leaving mine, her touch never wavering. She was in control, and I was hers to command. And in that moment, I wouldn't have had it any other way.
I groaned as she slowly lowered herself to her knees, her eyes never leaving mine. My heart pounded in my chest, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she wrapped her hand around the base of my cock. Her touch was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through me that made my legs tremble.
She leaned forward, her lips brushing against the sensitive tip.
I groaned again, my hips jerking involuntarily as she took me into her mouth.
The sensation was indescribable—hot, wet, and so fucking perfect.
I could feel my muscles tensing, my body responding to her touch in a way that was primal, instinctual.
I tangled my fingers in her hair, guiding her movements as she began to suck me in earnest. Her mouth was warm and wet, her tongue swirling around the head of my cock in a way that made my vision blur.
I could feel the pressure building, the tension growing, the need for release becoming almost unbearable.
"Fuck," I growled, my voice low and rough. "You feel so fucking good."
She moaned again, the sound vibrating through me and sending another wave of pleasure crashing over me. I tightened my grip on her hair, pulling her closer as she took me deeper into her mouth. I could feel myself hitting the back of her throat, the sensation almost too much to bear.
"You like that, don't you?" I murmured, my voice a dark promise. "You like sucking my cock."
She moaned again, her eyes fluttering closed as she continued to work me over. I could feel myself getting closer, my muscles tensing as the pressure built. I knew I couldn't hold out much longer.
"You're going to take every drop," I growled, my voice barely above a whisper. "Every last drop."
She moaned again, her movements becoming more urgent as she sucked me harder, faster. I could feel myself getting closer, my muscles tensing as the pressure built. And then, with a final, desperate thrust, I came.
The sensation was indescribable—hot, intense, and so fucking powerful. I could feel my cock pulsing, my body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. I groaned, my fingers tightening in her hair as I emptied myself into her mouth.
She swallowed every drop, her eyes never leaving mine as she continued to suck me until I was completely spent. When she finally pulled away, I could see the satisfaction in her eyes, the knowledge that she had brought me to my knees.
I pulled her to her feet, my arms wrapping around her as I kissed her deeply. I could taste myself on her lips, the salty tang of my release mingling with the sweetness of her mouth. It was intoxicating, addictive.
"Mine," I whispered. "Mine, mine, mine."
"Yours," she breathed out.
And I was as good as gone.