Chapter 23 —Ravyn
I lay in bed the following morning, my hair sprawled beneath my head as I stared absently into space. A faint grin was playing on my lips, the images of last night flashing in my mind. I still found it hard to believe that it finally happened—we had sex.
It was the most mind-blowing and most satisfying sex I’d had in a really long time. Maybe that was why I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. I’d imagined how it would feel to have Lev buried deep inside me, and honestly, it exceeded my expectations.
The man was such a good kisser, excellent with his fingers.
I’d never come just from being fingered before.
Never. But he broke the record, printing his name and his face at the back of my mind.
I couldn’t help feeling like he’d marked me, branded me as his, because why the hell couldn’t I get him out of my head?
I’d been lying in bed for the past thirty minutes since I woke up this morning. What was I doing? I was busy replaying the incident from last night. The scent of his cologne still lingered in the room, reminding me of the crazy things he’d done to me in the library.
His kiss was as electrifying as his touch, and when he pulled me to himself, every cell in my body came alive. Lev was a man who understood the anatomy of a woman’s body. He took his time to explore every part of me as though he was memorizing my curves and contours.
He knew where to touch me, when to touch me, and how to do so.
It was a skill honed from years of experience and practice.
And it shouldn’t bother me how many women he’d made feel this good, but I couldn’t help feeling jealous.
The fact that another woman had experienced what he’d done to me last night nearly ruined my mood.
However, I wouldn’t let it. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Lev made sure he left a lasting impression on me; he gave me something to occupy my mind with. The mere thought of the way he handled last night sent shivers down my spine.
I hadn’t felt so alive in a really long time, and thanks to him, I felt like a woman again. His deep, husky voice echoed in my head, his words still taking a toll on me even right this second.
“Look at you, falling apart on my fingers.”
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and both my palms covered my face in shame. I didn’t mean to spill my juice all over the floor, and honestly, I was still in shock that he made me squirt with just his fingers. Like I said, it had never happened to me before.
In my defense, I had tried all I could to hold it back. I tried to stay composed. But with that much adrenaline coursing through my blood—that much sensation sprinting through my body—it was impossible to remain calm. The man made sure that I had no other choice but to release.
It was so embarrassing, especially because I fought so hard and still lost. But did I really lose, though? That feeling when my dam shattered, my legs trembled, and my whole body convulsed felt like heaven. It was ecstatic and breathtaking. Literally.
In the heat of the moment, I thought my heart was going to give out, considering how overwhelmed I was with emotions. My pussy was hot—slippery, but hot. And when he finally penetrated me, it was like a veil was taken off my face, like my eyes were open for the first time.
It’s true what they say: “You don’t know what you have until you lose it.” But it’s also true that you don’t know what you’ve been missing until it arrives.
That was the case with me; I hadn’t realized what I’d been missing out on until last night. Lev was a better lover than I could’ve possibly imagined. With just his fingers and his cock, the man took me to places I didn’t know existed in my head.
He made me feel like a woman again—showed me a glimpse of what he was capable of doing to me in bed. No man had ever given me so much pleasure the way he did. Lev was on a whole other level when it came to pleasing a woman. He worked on my body like he owned every inch of it—and he just might.
Lev ignited a fire inside me and then stoked the flames until I was consumed.
His touch felt incredible, and I was quickly moaning his name.
It didn’t matter how turned on I was; I never called my lover’s name out loud during our first time together.
It was like a rule. However, with Lev, things were different; his name spilled from my lips multiple times without my permission.
I wasn’t sure how he managed to pull that off, but he did.
I moaned his name over and over again despite myself.
Lev toiled with my feelings last night; he stirred up lust, anxiety, pleasure, and shame. All at the same time. He guided me through different layers of emotions in a matter of seconds, leaving me completely unraveled and satisfied in the end.
As I lay in bed this morning, all I could think about was him and how soon we would recreate what happened last night. He wasn’t selfish—Lev didn’t make the sex solely about himself. No. In fact, he made it all about me—like it was his mission to make me feel so good and satisfied.
I should be embarrassed about what happened, how I lost control, and the things I said I wasn’t proud of. But I wasn’t. Despite how quickly I surrendered to him like some cheap whore, I didn’t regret anything I did or said under the influence of my own lust.
I asked him to fuck me harder, admitted to being owned by him, and begged him not to stop fucking me. These were all things I’d never have said to a man I was having sex with for the first time. Never. These words weren’t said freely; they were earned by commitments and several other trials.
But with Lev, I threw all my standards, rules, and policies out the window without thinking twice.
Fuck, I even called him “Daddy.”
This man had no idea what he’d unlocked within me, the flames he’d ignited, and the depth of my soul he’d touched. It wasn’t just about the sex; it was more than that on so many levels.
I felt connected to him during and after the sex; our hearts beat as one. And when I looked into his eyes, they weren’t so cold and lifeless anymore; they had a spark in them. There was something about the way he fucked me—almost reverent—like my body was something to be adored.
At some point during the sex, every touch felt like he was worshipping—with his mouth, his hands, and his cock. Oh, his cock—his long, veiny cock that stretched me out. Whenever he buried himself in me, I felt him deep in my stomach.
Before now, I used to think Lev was the kind to go straight to the point—fuck, cum, and call it a day. But he proved me wrong; he showed me a side of him that I didn’t know existed.
Looking back now, I realized that he only became rough with me after I broke our kiss the first time and reclaimed his lips with a burning intensity. This meant that Lev had to match my energy because I wanted him to treat me roughly.
His touch, his kiss—they were all gentle at first—like he’d intended to go slower if he hadn’t switched things up. One thing was clear: There was more to Lev Tarasov’s sexual desire that I had yet to explore, and I couldn’t wait to do so.
We’d definitely have sex again. I wasn’t sure when or where. But seeing that we’d already crossed this line, it was bound to happen again and again and again until it became a habit.
***
For the rest of the day, Lev Tarasov haunted my thoughts. The memory of our time together looped in my mind, each time awakening a different ache inside me.
The next few days sped past like a blur, and Lev was hardly around. Even when he was home, he was always busy in his office. He hadn’t told me anything yet, but I could sense that the attack on our lives the other day had eaten deeper than he cared to admit.
I overheard him speaking on the phone two days ago. The conversation was mainly in Russian, but judging by the few English words he chipped in, I figured he was worried about a mole in his close circle.
The feminine part of me that needed his attention, his touch, and caresses thought he was only ignoring me because he’d taken what he wanted. But I knew that wasn’t true. Lev was distant because he was working on fishing out the man responsible for the attack that had almost claimed my life.
If this were true, and there really was a mole among his men, then neither of us was safe. Anyone in this penthouse could be the Judas who betrayed him; any one of them could be the compromised one.
I should be afraid for my life, and his as well.
But for some reason, I wasn’t. It was almost like a huge part of me trusted his ability to keep me safe.
The man had jumped in front of a speeding bullet for me.
That was the highest form of selflessness.
If he could do that without hesitation, I had no doubt that he’d do all he could to protect me from whoever was after my life.
Being his wife had put a giant bullseye on my back, making me a target for his enemies who believed that I was his weakness.
It sounded ridiculous to me at first that anyone would think that Lev had a weakness or that I was his weakness.
However, with everything that had happened recently, I was starting to see the possibility.
Even though he was hardly around these past few days, our paths had crossed a couple of times, and I couldn’t help noticing the changes in him. He seemed brighter, and each time he looked at me, his gaze would linger a beat too long.
He’d smiled at me more than a few times—not that crooked, self-satisfied smirk of his, but a real, genuine smile. It was always faint. But genuine. It felt like these tiny moments chipped away at the cold, ruthless mask he’d worn since the beginning.
Just yesterday, while I was wandering the hallways in a bid to clear my mind, I bumped into him after rounding a corner.
The sudden collision shook my hand, spilling my hot coffee on his impeccably tailored black suit.
Lev spread out his arms, cursing in Russian.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you coming,” I quickly apologized, lifting my head to meet his gaze.
His expression softened the moment he realized who was careless enough to have ruined his suit. I watched his countenance move from pissed to something a lot lighter within seconds.
I quietly brushed my fist over the affected area while still looking up at him. His eyes bore into mine, and with each passing second, a flutter rose in my chest. Images of our time together in the library flooded my mind, leaving me distracted.
“You might just be making it worse,” his voice cut through my thoughts.
“Huh?” I snapped back to reality, and that’s when I traced his gaze to the mess I was making with my fist. I thought I was wiping the coffee stain off his jacket, but I was only spreading it further. “Sorry.” I cleared my throat and straightened my spine.
“It’s okay.”
Yakov, his right-hand man, stood beside him, his gaze shifting between the two of us as if he were wondering what the hell was going on here. It took the conspicuous clearing of his throat to remind us of his presence. He said something to Lev in Russian, probably reminding him of the task at hand.
Lev stole one last glance at me before picking up his pace. I stood there alone in the hallway, watching him leave without looking back at me.
The truth was, I was starting to see a different version of Lev Tarasov that made me want to understand him better. Whatever emotion he’d stirred up within was as intriguing as it was terrifying.
We’d flipped to the next page of our story, and honestly, it was a blank sheet of paper. I had no idea where this was going or what the future held for both of us. But I was willing to stick around and find out.