Chapter Twenty-One
Aleksei
The scent of her perfume clouds my judgment as I process the web of connections.
Stella Verona. The woman from the charity event. The one who haunted my thoughts. And now she’s Gianni’s ex, here to save her thieving brother Nico.
Blyad.
My fingers trace the edge of one of the toys Maranzano packed as a message. That Italian peacock thinks he’s clever, trying to humiliate her. But the way her breath catches when I touch the silicone tells a different story.
“So.” I step closer, watching her pupils dilate. “Maranzano was your fiancé.”
She presses herself against the wall but doesn’t look away. There’s steel in her spine despite her fear. “ Ex -fiancé.”
The distinction matters more than it should. I remember how she felt under my hands that night at the hotel, how perfectly she responded to my touch. Now she’s here, caught between my body and the wall, bringing me both Nico’s stolen money and these… toys.
Interesting.
My thumb brushes over her bottom lip. “Did he think this would shame you? Make you crawl?”
Her breath hitches, but her green eyes flash defiance. “He thought it would make me look cheap. Desperate.”
“Instead?” I lift the vibrator, watching color flood her cheeks. “You’ve brought me options.”
The temperature in the room shifts as understanding dawns in her eyes.
She doesn’t pull away when I lean closer, doesn’t protest when my free hand finds her hip.
The possibilities multiply in my mind — punishment for her brother’s theft, revenge against Maranzano, and the chance to possess her again, this time with no pretense of anonymity.
“What’s your answer, krasivaya ?” I deliberately brush my lips against her ear. “Should we put Maranzano’s gifts to use?”
Her silence speaks volumes. My fingers tighten on her hip as details click into place. The money. Maranzano. Her agitation when she arrived.
Something gnaws at me.
“Tell me how you got this.” I lift the bag with my free hand, watching her face. “ Vsyo . Everything.”
She tries to look away. I catch her chin, forcing her gaze back to mine. The touch of her skin burns against my fingers.
“I-I called him. Asked for help.” Her voice wavers. “He agreed to meet.”
“And the price?” Ice creeps into my tone. The marks of shame on her face tell me what I don’t want to hear.
“He…”
“He what?”
She swallows hard. “Made it clear what he wanted in exchange.”
Something dark and violent rises in my chest. The bag drops from my hand as I slam my palm against the wall beside her head. She flinches but doesn’t cower.
“He forced you.” The words come out in a growl.
“I needed the money for my brother.” Her chin lifts slightly. “I made the choice.”
“ Choice? ” The word tastes like acid. “Maranzano blackmailed you with your brother’s life.”
Tears well in her eyes but don’t fall. “What else could I do?”
The image of Maranzano touching her, using her desperation against her, makes my vision blur red. My grip on her hip becomes bruising as possessive fury courses through me.
She was mine first.
The memory of our night together burns hot against this violation.
“He will pay.” The promise comes out lethal and low. “No one touches what’s mine.”
Her breath catches. “Yours?”
“That night at the hotel.” I lean closer, letting her feel my anger, my possession. “You became mine then. He had no right.”
Her expression shifts, but I capture her mouth with mine before she can say something, claiming what that peacock Maranzano tried to steal.
Her body stiffens at first, but then, she melts into my touch, gasping against my lips.
I swallow the sound, deepening the kiss as my hand slides from her hip to the small of her back.
She tastes like mint and something sweet. Woman. The same intoxicating flavor I remember from that night. My fingers tangle in her hair, angling her head to give me better access. When her hands clutch at my shirt, the last thread of my control snaps.
I press her harder against the wall, my body against hers. The kiss turns savage, possessive. Each stroke of my tongue erases Maranzano’s touch, replaces his violation with my claim. She whimpers, but her body melts into mine, accepting, yielding.
The rage that burned through me moments ago transforms into something else entirely. Heat pools low in my gut as she responds, giving as good as she gets. Her nails scrape against my chest through the fabric of my shirt, and I growl into her mouth.
“ Moya ,” I breathe against her lips between kisses. “Mine.”
She shivers, and I feel it everywhere we touch. The soft curves of her body fit perfectly against my harder planes, just like I remember. But this time there’s no pretense of anonymity, no illusion of a single night. This is raw and real and marked with possession.
My hand drops to her thigh, hiking it up against my hip as I deepen the kiss further. She moans, the sound shooting straight through me. The party beyond these walls fades away until there’s nothing but her taste, her scent, the way she moves against me.
I back her toward the mahogany desk, my hands steady on her hips. She follows my lead, trusting despite everything that’s happened. When her legs hit the edge, I lift her easily, setting her on the polished surface.
Her eyes lock with mine as I slowly unbutton her blouse. My fingers brush against soft skin with each movement, drawing small gasps from her lips. The silk parts to reveal a delicate camisole underneath.
“ Krasivyy ,” I murmur, sliding the blouse from her shoulders. She shivers at my touch, but not from fear. The same electricity from that night at the hotel crackles between us.
She reaches for my tie, but I catch her hands. “Be still,” I tell her. I have something else in mind.
I take my time with each piece of clothing, stripping her until she lies across the desk wearing nothing but black lace panties.
Bozhe moy.
She’s a fucking vision.
Full, lush tits are tipped with pink nipples that make my mouth water. I stand between her splayed thighs, spreading her knees wide.
“Aleksei,” she groans the word, then jolts as I trace my hand down her belly and run my fingers over her mound.
My hand closes around the vibrator, and I tear my gaze from her flushed face to look at the toy. It’s sleek and silver, the shaft thick and veined. My thumb finds the switch, and the soft buzzing fills the room. Stella gasps, her hips jerking as I bring it closer.
“I don’t… I can’t…” she stutters, her eyes wide.
“Quiet,” I tell her. I watch her reactions carefully, gauging her response as I graze the latex tip against her inner thigh. She’s incredibly sensitive; each brush of the vibrator makes her muscles jump. I smirk, feeling a surge of satisfaction at her body’s betrayal.
She’s so damn responsive. Her body telling me exactly what it needs despite her efforts to hide it.
With my free hand, I lift her knees, pushing them back to rest on the desk’s edge. She complies, but her eyes squeeze shut as embarrassment battles with pleasure. I don’t stop, running the toy along her creamy thighs, over the lacy edge of her panties.
“No,” she whispers, but it’s too late. I hook the vibrator under the lace, pressing it firmly against her clit.
“Yes,” I counter, the hum of the toy vibrating through my fingers. I hold it steady, the buzz reverberating through both of us.
Her hips arch off the desk, her eyes flying open as a moan escapes. I see the exact moment the sensation becomes too much, her inner struggle to hold back shattering. Her back bows, and she cries out, her hands grabbing at my arms for support.
“Let go,” I command, not breaking eye contact. “Let me feel it.”
She shakes her head, teeth gritted, fighting for control. But she can’t hide the way her body moves against the toy, the soft whimpers that escape. I hold her gaze, my eyes boring into hers as the vibrator does its work. Her eyelids flutter, but she keeps them open, locked on mine.
I graze her swollen pussylips with my thumb, feeling the vibrations through the sensitive skin. “Look at me,” I order. “I want to see your eyes when you come.”
She shudders, the sensations traveling through her. “Please…” she begs, but I don’t know what she’s asking for. I don’t know if she wants me to stop or continue. Not that she has much choice in the matter. I have every intention of pushing every limit.
“What do you want, krasivaya ?” I ask, still holding her gaze. “Tell me.” I know what she’s going to get, but it amuses me to know that she’s asking for it.
“Don’t… stop,” she gasps, and it’s the answer I want.
Ripping away the scrap of her panties, I spread her lips wide and slide the head of the vibrator deep into her.
When I add my thumb to her clit she lets out a sharp cry.
Her hips buck up, pussy muscles clenching around the toy as she rides out the orgasm.
She’s gorgeous like this, utterly vulnerable, exposed.
My cock throbs at the sight, demanding its own release.
But I’m not done with her yet. Not even close.
I tear my gaze from hers, pulling the vibrator away and dropping it onto the desk with a soft thud. Her eyes squeeze shut, and she lets out a little moan of protest. I smirk, dragging my thumb over her sensitized clit. She jerks at the touch, eyes flying open.
“You like this,” I say, more statement than question. “Being exposed like this. Being played with.”
She shakes her head, but her eyes say otherwise. I chuckle darkly, my thumb pressing harder. “Your body doesn’t lie, krasivaya . You’re dripping on the table.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but the words die on her lips as I slide a finger inside her. She’s tight, hotter than I remember, and so damn wet. Her hands scrabble at the desk as she moans, her head falling back.
“Aleksei,” she groans my name, and it sends a bolt of satisfaction through me.