Epilogue Sofiya #3
He groans, the word scraping out raw. He lifts me higher, changing the angle, hitting that spot that makes my vision go white. I shatter, muscles clamping around him in convulsive waves. He pumps through it, watching my face, drinking in every sound. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Give me everything.”
When the aftershocks fade, he lowers me carefully, letting my feet find the floor.
My legs wobble; his hands grip my waist until I steady.
He steps back, shrugging off his jacket, ripping his shirt over his head, discarding everything until he’s naked, body hewn from tension and scars.
He stalks me toward the bed, eyes darkening.
“On the mattress,” he orders.
I crawl onto the huge bed draped in ivory linen, glancing over my shoulder to catch his gaze.
He stares like he’s about to devour a dessert no one else is allowed to touch.
I lie on my back, legs apart, stockings still on, hair wild around my head.
He climbs over me, pressing his weight down, kissing me lazy and deep until I whimper with need again.
He slides down my body, sucking each nipple, spending extra time on the underside of my breasts where the lace left faint red impressions.
His hands glide down my sides, rough palms catching on smooth skin.
He settles between my thighs again, but this time he doesn’t rush.
He laps slowly, languidly, tongue tracing patterns that make me squirm.
When I reach down to grip his hair he looks up, eyes sparkling, mouth shiny, and grins wickedly.
“Turn.”
He flips me onto my stomach, drags me to the edge of the bed so my knees rest on the floor and my upper body lies along the mattress.
He spreads my cheeks, breath hot against my exposed pussy.
“So pretty,” he murmurs, then dives in again, fucking me with his tongue from behind while his fingers circle my clit.
The angle is obscene, the view in the mirror across the room criminal, and I push back into him greedily.
He inserts two fingers, then three. I cry out, stretched to the point of pain-pleasure, clenching around the intrusion. He pumps, crooks, makes my muscles flutter. “Come again,” he orders, voice low and commanding.
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” He slaps my clit lightly and the shock makes me jerk.
He rubs in tight circles, tongue flicking.
I bite the sheets, muffling a scream as another orgasm slams through me, thighs shaking, tears pricking my eyes from sheer overload.
He pulls out, stands, and yanks me upright, spinning me to face him.
“You ready?” he asks.
I nod, lips parted, breath ragged. He guides me back onto the bed, flips me onto my back again, and thrusts inside without warning.
The slick glide is too much. I groan his name, wrapping my legs around his waist. He sets a punishing pace, pounding hard enough to rattle the bed frame.
Sweat drips onto my chest, his jaw tight, eyes locked on mine.
“I’m going to fill you,” he growls. “I’m going to fuck my cum so deep, you feel it tomorrow.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Do it.”
He pistons faster, breath turning ragged, head tipping back.
His abdominal muscles flex under my hands.
I dig my nails into his back, leaving crescent moons.
He snarls and captures my mouth again, devouring every sound.
He slides one hand between us, thumb circling my clit relentlessly.
My body arches, pushed right to the brink once more.
“Come with me,” he demands. “Now.”
The command hits like a gunshot. I clamp around him, orgasm ripping through me with brutal force, scalding, endless.
He groans, shoving deep, hips grinding as he unloads.
“Sofiya!” His cock pulses, spilling hot, thick, painting my walls.
I feel every arc, every twitch, his muscles shaking as he empties everything inside me.
He doesn’t pull out, staying buried while we both pant like we ran a mile through snow.
The heat seeps deep, the mix of our essences leaks slowly.
Eventually, he rolls, taking me with him. I sprawl on his chest, sweat cooling, hair plastered to my cheeks. His heartbeat thunders under my ear.
“You’re dangerous,” I murmur.
“So are you,” he says, stroking my back with lazy passes.
His palm feels huge, warm, safe. For a moment the entire world shrinks to this suite: the hum of security outside, the distant echo of music from the reception, the rain's steady breath, and his skin under mine.
He reaches for the handloom, drapes it over us like a blanket.
The fabric smells faintly of cedar and memory.
His fingers toy with the ring he slid on my hand earlier, tracing it like a promise.
“Forever, Sofiya,” he whispers, lips against my hair. “No threats. No terms. Just us.”
I press my mouth to his chest, tasting salt, bones, vows layered in flesh. “Then keep up, Reznikov,” I say, letting sleep tug me down. “We’re only just getting started.”