18. Alexei #4
I rise from the chair with Maggie still on my cock.
Pulling out, I spin her around, dragging her flush against me.
I lift her effortlessly before pressing her back against the wall hard enough to shake a framed photograph beside us.
A breathless cry leaves her while her legs lock around my waist instinctively, her fingers tangling tightly into the back of my neck.
I hold her there with one arm beneath her thighs while I line up my cock with her pussy. In one brutal thrust, I’m inside her again. I pull out slowly until only the tip is inside her.
“Tell me,” I demand, my eyes locked on hers.
Slowly, I push my cock into her inch by inch before pulling out again to the tip.
“Okay! You win,” Maggie whimpers. “I’m yours Alexei. I won’t walk away. I won’t leave you.”
My mouth crashes down on hers. The kiss turns feverish almost immediately, all desperation and need, our mouths moving against each other like neither of us knows how to stop anymore.
She clings to me harder with every rough inhale, every frantic drag of my mouth against hers, and the feeling of her wrapped around me like this nearly drives me out of my mind.
I move faster, pumping in and out of her with my lips still on hers. Reaching between us, I find her clit one last time.
“Cum with me,” I command against her mouth.
I pinch the sensitive bundle of nerves, and she shatters. I feel her spasm around me, the rhythmic squeezing pulling me over the edge. I bury myself deep, grinding into her as my cock jerks, pumping her full of cum.
I hold her there against the wall while the aftermath moves through both of us, Maggie trembling in my arms with her forehead pressed against mine. Our breathing slowly begins to calm, though my pulse still pounds hard enough to shake through me every time she tightens her hold around my neck.
For several seconds, neither of us speaks. We stay there, tangled together in the wreckage of everything that exploded between us tonight. Then I finally force myself to move.
I carry her across the office toward the sofa without letting her go, lowering us onto the cushions before pulling her tightly against my side. Maggie melts into me, exhausted and overheated now, her head resting beneath my chin while my arm wraps firmly around her waist.
The room feels strangely quiet after all that intensity. Only our breathing remains.
My fingers move slowly through her hair while I stare out toward the dark windows, trying to regain enough control over myself to think clearly again.
Maggie stays curled against me beneath the ruined remains of her shirt, one hand spread across my chest like she needs reassurance that I’m still here.
After several quiet minutes, she exhales slowly against my chest before tipping her head back enough to look at me. Her lips are swollen, while faint pink marks stain her skin where my hands held her too tightly earlier.
“I should go home,” she says.
Every instinct inside me rejects the idea immediately. “Stay here tonight.”
“Mmm. Temptin’ offer,” she murmurs, though exhaustion still shadows her eyes. “But I have to get up early for the adoption event tomorrow.”
My arm tightens around her. “You should stay anyway.”
A small laugh leaves her. “You say that like I’d sleep tonight after all this.”
“Fair point.”
She traces her fingers slowly across the front of my chest before looking back up at me. “The shelter needs me there early. Jules will absolutely lose his mind if I’m late tomorrow.”
“Then security will take you home and bring you back in the morning.”
Her eyebrows lift. “That wasn’t a suggestion, was it?”
“No.”
The corner of her mouth twitches again. “Bossy.”
“Alive.” My fingers brush slowly along her waist. “I prefer you that way.”
Maggie shakes her head while looking up at me like she still can’t fully decide whether I terrify her or make her feel safer than anyone else ever has.
Maybe both.
My hand slides along her waist while keeping her against me.
“Viktor will drive you,” I say finally, leaving no room for argument, even though both of us know she’s too exhausted to fight me anymore tonight.
Her fingers splay across my abdomen. “Bossy.”
“Protective.”
“That sounds suspiciously similar in your world.”
A rough laugh leaves me before I lower my mouth to hers again, kissing her slower this time, like neither of us actually wants the night to end.
The anger between us has burned down into something far more complicated now—attachment, need, and the understanding that walking away from each other is no longer an option.
Eventually, I force myself to stand and pull her up with me. The office looks destroyed around us. Torn lace on the floor. Papers knocked sideways across the desk. Crystal glasses knocked over.
Maggie notices the destruction too and lets out a quiet, embarrassed laugh before covering her face briefly with one hand. “Oh, sweet heaven.”
I slide my hand around her wrist gently and lower her hand from her face before brushing a kiss across her knuckles.
I watch her pull her jeans back on before slipping into her torn shirt again. Then she bends to retrieve the ruined lace panties from the floor, muttering under her breath while she stuffs them into her back pocket with what remains of her dignity.
“My panties are officially deceased,” she mutters.
“That situation appears permanent.”
Maggie presses her lips together while she tries unsuccessfully to hold back a horrified laugh, tugging her shirt into place and smoothing her hair enough to survive walking through a mansion full of observant security guards.
Meanwhile, I retrieve my own clothes from the floor and shrug back into my ruined shirt, the front hanging open where several buttons are now missing.
Neither of us looks remotely composed. Especially not me.
Because every time my eyes return to Maggie standing in my office with swollen lips, tangled hair, and disheveled clothes, the need to drag her back against the wall and fuck her until neither of us can think straight hits me all over again.
It takes real effort to force myself toward the door instead.
I walk her downstairs. Three guards near the foyer straighten as soon as we appear, their attention snapping toward me while carefully avoiding looking directly at Maggie.
Smart men.
I walk her all the way to the SUV waiting outside, unwilling to let her out of my sight, even for a few seconds.
Before she climbs into the back seat, Maggie turns toward me again. Emotion moves visibly across her face. Fear still sits beneath the surface, mixed with exhaustion and an affection neither of us fully knows how to handle yet.
“Be careful,” she whispers.
I touch her cheek lightly. “Always.”
Then I lower my forehead against hers. “I will protect you with my life, Maggie.” It’s not a promise, it’s a fact.
Her hand lifts unexpectedly, her palm resting briefly against my cheek before she finally slips into the SUV. I stand there watching the taillights disappear beyond the gates. Only then do I turn and head back inside.
Luka waits near my office. One look at his expression tells me the night isn’t finished.
“What is it?” I ask.
He’s holding a thin folder. “We found additional communication tied to Clara.”
My entire body goes rigid instantly. “Explain.”
Luka opens the folder slowly. “The intermediary received photographs periodically.”
He hands me a photograph. Clara sits on the beach holding Ivy as a baby while sunlight catches in both their hair. Clara smiles toward the camera, completely unaware she’s being photographed.
Beautiful. Alive. Hiding secrets.
“There’s more,” he says carefully. “One message referenced keeping Ivy hidden.”
The room seems to tilt beneath me. “Hidden from who?”
“We don't know yet.”
I stare down at the photograph again while a sick realization slowly works its way through me. Clara knew. Maybe not everything, maybe not the full reach of it, but enough to understand there was danger connected to Ivy long before I ever suspected it.
Which means this was never only about shipping routes or business pressure. And whoever is coming after my family now may have been watching us from the shadows for far longer than I ever imagined.