Chapter Five
Natalya
The moment I open my eyes the next morning, I register the delicious ache between my thighs
The memory of the previous night floods my head.
My first time—and it was a thousand times better than anything I’ve ever imagined.
I stretch slowly, letting out a small wince followed by a silly chuckle as heat rises on my cheeks.
Okay, pull yourself together, Natalya.
Viktor is still asleep beside me—at least, he looks asleep.
One arm is thrown over his head, the other resting on my waist possessively, like some part of him refuses to let me drift too far even in unconsciousness.
The blanket is low on his hips, barely covering anything.
His chest rises and falls in slow, steady rhythm, all strong lines and sculpted muscle, his skin warm with the early morning light sliding across it.
He looks beautiful.
Beautiful in that raw, male, powerful way that makes my stomach flutter.
I shouldn’t stare.
I definitely shouldn’t crave touching him again when I can barely move without remembering exactly how hard he held me, how deep he—
Damn. I’m thirsty. And not for water.
I let my gaze travel down his torso. Over the ridges of his abdomen. Lower. My face grows hotter at the direction of my thoughts.
“You like what you see, lepestok?”
I gasp in surprise.
He’s awake. Has been awake, probably, watching me ogle him like he’s some sinful dessert.
“I—” I trail off, then shrug, ignoring my embarrassment to smile teasingly at him. “Maybe.”
His lips curve in a slow, wicked smile. “Maybe?”
I swallow. “Okay,” I whisper. “Yes.”
“Good.” His voice drops another octave. “Because you don’t have to just look.”
My breath catches.
His eyes open, dark and heavy with sleep and want as they lock onto mine. He reaches up, brushes a finger along my cheek, then trails it down my throat, my collarbone, lower, until his hand settles warm on my hip.
“Come here,” he murmurs.
I shift closer instinctively, the blanket slipping, exposing more of my skin to his touch. He guides my hand with his, lifting it, placing it on his chest.
“Touch me,” he says softly. “I want you to.”
I blink up at him.
“Viktor…”
“You were mine last night,” he whispers, voice a gentle growl. “But I’m yours every morning you wake up beside me.”
Heat rushes through me so quickly I almost melt into the mattress.
With shaky fingers, I slide my hand over his chest. His muscles tighten under my touch. His breath deepens—not quite a groan, but close.
I trace over the curve of his shoulder. Down the line of his bicep. His skin is warm, firm, silky-smooth in some places, scarred in others. I trail the pad of my thumb over a long, faded scar near his ribs.
“What happened here?” I ask quietly.
He smiles faintly. “Just another fight.” His hand covers mine, holding it there. “Nothing that matters anymore.”
I keep exploring, trailing my hand down his abdomen. Each ridge rises under my palm. He watches me—intently, hungrily, almost reverently. Like my touch is something he’s been starving for. I slide my hand lower, just above the blanket and his breath quickens.
“Natalya…” he warns softly, though it’s not a real warning. More like a plea.
“I—” I trail off, running my tongue over my lips like that’d quench the sudden dryness in my throat. “Can I touch you?”
“Damn right you can,” he growls, his eyes flaring with something dark, and incredibly hot.
My heart does a funny flip and for a second, I almost chicken out. But I take a deep breath and push the blanket a little lower, revealing the full length of him—hard, heavy, beautiful. He groans when the air hits him, a raw sound that sends a pulse straight through my body.
I swallow hard and wrap my hand around him.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, not even aware I spoke until the words echoed in my ears.
He moans softly in response. A wave of tenderness washes over me at the vulnerability he isn’t even trying to hide. I caress him gently, feeling his flesh pulse and twitch against my palm. His penis is magnificent, long and thick, the head large and dark like a ripe plum.
“Wanna take it in your mouth?” he asks and I nod eagerly before I can catch myself. I flush and he chuckles. “All yours, lepestok.”
I bend forward slowly until my lips brush him, then I run my tongue over his tip. It feels soft, and so smooth.
I have no clue what the hell I’m doing but I want more. So much more.
“Oh, Natalya,” he gasps. When I look up at him, I see his head thrown back, the muscles of his neck flexing. “Please, love, take me in your mouth. I need you.”
His pleas inflame me. I lower my head once more and suck him between my lips.
He fits so perfectly, cradled on the hollow of my tongue.
It suddenly feels like I’m accessing some primal, basic part of me that I never knew existed.
Using my tongue, I wet his cock until it glides smoothly in and out of my mouth.
Once more I feel his hands in my hair, not pushing, never forcing, simply holding me, stroking me.
I concentrate on the feel of him between my lips.
I stroke and suck him, worshipping him, kneeling between his legs and coaxing long, low moans from him.
All rational thoughts vanish, whatever worries and concerns that I might have had about messing up flee my mind.
There’s only me and this man and the hard flesh in my mouth.
I can feel the need building in him as if I am the one being pleasured. Every muscle in his body draws taut, guttural moans escaping his throat. I know what’s to come, and I can feel myself growing hot and moist at the thought.
He gasps as he floods my mouth, and I welcome the salty taste of his arousal.
I rub my pussy against his leg, desperate to relieve some of the pressure building up within me.
Finally, I pull away as his manhood softens in my palm, fiercely proud of myself for having pleasured him, even if it’s just a fraction of how much he’s pleasured me.
He pulls me into his arms, holding me against his chest as his breathing returns to normal.
His hands stroked my body, caressing my shoulder, stroking my hardened nipples until I moan.
Then he cups my breasts in his big hands, trailing his fingers down my ribs and over my stomach.
His fingers slip lower to my mound and squeeze my pussy in the palm of his hand until I gasp and press against him.
I nuzzle his neck, nipping at corded muscle. I feel the steady beat of his pulse against my lips. I let my hand wander down his stomach to fondle his still-damp cock. Much to my delight, he begins to harden beneath my touch.
“Wet,” he murmurs, his fingers caressing the delicate folds of my pussy gently. “You’re always so wet for me. As wet as the sea. Taste yourself, lepestok.”
Before I can say anything, his finger slides between my parted lips, and I taste my own desire.
I moan low in my throat, reckless with need as I palm his heavy erection in my hand.
I stroke the velvety soft tip of him, swirling a teardrop of arousal around the smooth head until he captures my hand and drags it away.
“I want you inside me,” I whisper, so softly I’m not sure he heard me.
“I know, lepestok, I know.” He pulls me onto his lap and I wrap my legs around his waist, his erection nudging the cleft of my pussy.
“Oh, Viktor…” I gasp, unable to voice my need, unsure even what it is I need.
“You will have what you want, lepestok,” he says, lying back on the bed and pulling me with him. “As much as you want. Take it.”
Our bodies press together, shoulder to hip. I shift my weight slightly and he’s inside me. I look down into his handsome face, rugged and strong, as he thrusts swiftly into me, filling me up completely.
Every sad thought, every bad memory from the previous day—and any other point in my life— melts away as I rock my pelvis against the thickness of his erection. I’m in control, and the rest is all an illusion.
I lie across Viktor’s body, pressing my engorged clitoris into his flat, muscular belly. I can see my desire mirrored in his expression, I can feel his pulse in the flesh embedded inside me.
“Come with me, Natalya,” he whispers gruffly, increasing his pace. “Come with me.”
I stare into his face, his breath coming in short, rasping pants that match my own.
I want to say something, do something, anything to prolong this moment, but then my need takes over, straining toward the orgasm that trembles just beyond my reach.
I shift my weight, grinding against him, and that’s all it takes.
I scream my release even as he pulls my head down to him and kisses me fiercely.
I whimper into his mouth, tasting him, tasting myself. Wetness, so much wetness. My climax seems never ending, spiraling higher and higher as he tenses beneath me. His gasps turn to moans in my open mouth. I swallow his breath and clench my body around him as he comes.
We stay tangled together for a long time afterward as our breaths slowly return to normal, his weight half-covering me in a way that feels protective rather than heavy. Eventually, Viktor presses a soft kiss to my shoulder and murmurs against my skin, “Shower with me, lepestok.”
I nod, letting him lead me into the bathroom, still boneless from what he just did to me.
Viktor stands behind me as the water pours over our bodies, his hands gentle on my hips, his mouth brushing along my shoulder every few breaths.
He washes my hair. I wash his chest. It feels…
domestic. Intimate in a completely different way.
It feels like something that belongs to us.