Chapter 2 Konstantin #2
The world narrows to the heat and pressure between us as I continue to push inside her, her slickness drawing a low, broken sound from both of us, and for a moment neither of us speaks, the tension between us a live wire snapping through my body as her legs tighten around my waist, urging me deeper.
I bury my face in the curve of her neck, dragging my mouth over her skin, tasting salt and perfume and something uniquely hers as her hips rise to meet me, the friction already spiraling into something urgent, something furious and raw.
We move together with a kind of violence born of loss, not tenderness but hunger—her body arching beneath mine, her breath stuttering as I drive into her again and again, each thrust sending a shudder through both of us, chasing relief we haven’t found in days.
I reach between us, pressing my thumb to her clit, circling in slow, determined strokes, and the way she gasps my name—desperate and wild—makes my head spin, makes me want to give her every ounce of comfort I have left.
She pulls me in for another kiss, her mouth open, messy, her tongue greedy and searching, her moans muffled against my lips as I work her clit with just enough pressure to push her to the edge.
She drags her nails down my back, leaving angry red trails, gasping out my name and begging me not to stop, not when she’s so close, not when she needs me to fuck her harder, deeper.
“God, Konstantin—don’t stop, I want you so fucking deep,” she whispers, her voice almost breaking as she clenches around me, the words pushing me right to the edge.
“Look at you,” I growl, nipping at her jaw, biting her neck hard enough to mark her. “Taking my cock like you were made for it, so wet, so fucking greedy for me—do you want to come for me, Nadya? You want me to make you scream?”
She’s panting, hair wild around her face, her mouth falling open as I push her legs higher, grinding into her with a pace that leaves us both shaking.
Her muscles tighten around me, her body trembling with the effort to hold on, her voice breaking as she tells me not to stop, not to let go, not to leave her in this emptiness we’ve both been drowning in.
I don’t hold back, letting the sensation build, watching her unravel beneath me, her hair fanned across the rug, her eyes locked on mine with a wildness that’s equal parts grief and devotion and a need so fierce it leaves me shaking.
When she comes, she clings to me, her body tensing and shuddering, her mouth open in a silent cry as I keep working her clit, desperate to prolong the pleasure, desperate to feel something good after so much pain.
The feeling tips me over the edge too, my orgasm tearing through me as I thrust into her one last time, spilling into her, letting myself collapse into the warmth of her arms. For a moment, there’s only breath and the rush of blood in my ears.
Her breathing is still ragged, her hair tangled across the rug, but she traces slow, idle circles on my back, grounding me in a warmth I haven’t felt in days. For a moment, there’s peace—the kind that feels both earned and impossibly fragile, like it could shatter with a single word.
I’m still inside her, our bodies tangled, sweat cooling as the worst of our hunger ebbs, replaced by a dull ache that feels like hope and despair braided together. Nadya kisses my shoulder, her lips barely a whisper against my skin, and then she draws back just enough to look up at me.
“I made some enquiries about Viktor,” she murmurs, her tone soft but thoughtful, as if the subject’s been pressing on her all this time.
“He’s not just another old man with money.
He’s someone who gets things done. Discreet.
We should go see him. He might know something—he might be able to help us. ”
Something in me snaps cold. All the heat drains out in a rush, replaced by suspicion, anger, a wave of exhaustion that makes my whole body go tense.
I pull away, climbing to my feet, grabbing my clothes off the floor, shoving my legs into my pants, not caring that I’m rough or that she’s still sprawled on the rug.
I don’t look at her as I button my shirt, voice flat and bitter. “Is that why we fucked, Nadya? So you could soften me up and get your way?”
For a moment there’s only silence, then a rush of movement as she pushes up onto her knees, fire flashing in her eyes.
“What the hell are you talking about?” she snaps, not bothering to reach for her own clothes yet, the anger bright and raw in her voice.
“You think I planned that? That I let you fuck me just to manipulate you? Are you really that far gone, Konstantin?”
I whirl on her, rage and helplessness burning through me, louder than sense.
“You’re the one who’s already decided what we do next.
You don’t even care what I want. You keep pushing, pushing, like I haven’t tried everything to get our son back.
Like I’m not tearing myself apart every damn day trying to find him! ”
She stands, naked and shaking, but she doesn’t back down, her fists clenched at her sides. “This isn’t about you! We lost him, Konstantin. Both of us. We’re supposed to be in this together, but you’re always looking for someone to blame—usually me!”
I can’t help it—I reach for her, grabbing her arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough that she feels the desperation behind it.
“You think I don’t care? You think I haven’t tried enough?
Every night I’m crawling the city for scraps, every day I’m talking to ghosts.
And now you want to cozy up to a snake like Viktor, like he’s going to magically fix everything? ”
She wrenches her arm from my grip, her voice breaking, furious and wounded. “Maybe I want to try something—anything—you won’t! Because all you do is brood and lash out and push me away. Maybe Viktor’s all we have left.”
My fists clench at my sides, shame and anger twisting together in my gut. “Maybe you should have gone to him before you crawled into my bed.”
The words hang there, vicious, impossible to take back. For a second, she just stares at me, breath ragged, tears in her eyes, and I realize too late that I’ve crossed a line I never meant to touch.
She turns away, grabbing her clothes from the floor, silent except for the jagged sound of her breathing. I watch her, helpless, every part of me aching to reach for her, but I stay frozen, hating myself for the way everything I touch turns to ruin.