Leonid
I reach for her wrist and pull her into me, body to body, deepening the kiss.
She stumbles into me, the forest swallowing us whole as I drag her from the open ground and into the cover of the trees.
The woods are thick here, all old growth, twisted trunks and low branches.
The earth is soft underfoot, damp with fall and centuries of secrets.
Prague remembers everything. It keeps it buried just under the surface.
She wrenches against me once, more out of reflex than resistance.
“Let go of me,” she breathes.
“No,” I say quietly, and the word settles between us like a verdict.
I push her back against a tree instead, branches shadowing her face so completely that the rest of the world disappears. Her breath stutters when she sees how isolated we are, how alone, how utterly unseen.
Her pulse jumps under my fingers.
“You let me run,” she says, voice shaking now. “You let me think—”
“I let you prove something to yourself,” I interrupt. “That you’d rather die than be owned. I see it,” I pant between kisses. “I see you.”
Her throat works. She looks at me like she wants to hate me, like she’s terrified of how much she doesn’t.
“So last night,” she challenges. “Was just another test?”
That’s the crack. The one I feel in myself before I hear it in my voice.
I pull away, close enough that her breath hits my mouth but far enough that I can see into her hazel eyes. “Last night,” I say lowly, “was the moment I stopped pretending this was just curiosity.”
Her lips part. Her body leans forward before she can stop it.
I feel the full weight of it then. The obsession blooming like a bruise under my ribs. The way my world has narrowed down to her breath, her pulse, the knowledge that nothing has ever fed this hunger the way she does. Power, money, violence, threats. None of it touches this.
Only her.
My hand slides to her hip, fingers digging in just enough to make her gasp, and I drop my forehead to hers, fighting the urge to take more, to lose myself completely.
“You are ruining me,” I murmur, not sure if I mean it as an accusation or a confession.
Her hands fist in my shirt again. “Then stop,” she whispers.
I laugh under my breath. “It’s far too late for that.”
I lower my head, not to her mouth this time, but lower, following the curve of her throat, her breath hitching as she realizes exactly where my intent is going. Her hands tighten, nails biting into cotton, and the sound she makes is raw and unguarded and absolutely fucking lethal.
I pause long enough to feel it settle into my bones.
“You have been trapped so long you’ve forgotten that belonging doesn’t mean lack of agency.” The words are hushed, but the weight behind them is solid. “You can choose to be with someone and still be free.”
Her breath catches so sharply it hurts to hear it.
She freezes. Frowns. Her eyebrows draw together and make a little pinch above her nose that I smooth away with the pad of my thumb.
“He taught you to fear men, fear belonging, doubt your choices,” I continue, voice steady despite my pulse thundering in my ears. “He thinks you’re still his to control.”
I lift my head and look at her. “He’s wrong,” I say. “But after this, you’ll be mine. Do you understand?”
The war on her face tells me exactly what she is thinking. She knows she has to find it in herself to trust me. She doesn’t know how she will handle it if I betray her. She doesn’t quite trust that I never would, because her experience has taught her that.
“While you think about it, about what is happening here, I’m going to take you through the next stage.”
“What next stage?” she asks, breathless and confused.
I cup her mound and squeeze lightly until her knees buckle and a small, surprised sound escapes her.
She doesn’t stop me when I flick open the button on her jeans and slide down the zip.
“I know you’re a virgin. There was blood on my fingers after last night. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“You didn’t.” She turns her face away, and I drag it back with my free hand.
“That was the first time you had been touched, and right here will be the first time you ever feel a man’s mouth on you. My mouth on you. Because there will never be another.”
Her breath shudders from her as defiance melts from behind her eyes.
“You can say you don’t want it,” I add, sliding my hand beneath the front of her panties. “But you’re already dripping wet.”
I smear her juices around with my middle finger before pulling my hand from the confines of her jeans and pulling them down to her ankles.
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever been on my knees for,” I say as I grab her naked hips and pull her cunt to my face. Her scent fills my senses, clean and sharp and musky, and my cock hardens instantly.
I push apart her knees as she leans back against the tree, and part her pussy lips with two fingers. She is glistening, ripe, and perfect.
“Fuck,” I grunt, and then my mouth is on her, covering her delicate center, smoothing over her with licks that I can barely control.
I tense my tongue into a firm point as I run it between her folds, never quite reaching her clit, not yet, not until she is ready to accept this. Not until she is ready to fall apart.
“Leonid,” she pants, her hands pushing through my hair until she grips the back of my head. “What are you doing?”
I don’t answer her. Don’t want my mouth to leave her. Her pelvis tilts to give me better access, though I don’t think she is doing it on purpose. She is letting go, letting her body do what it needs to do, and my cock throbs desperately in response.
I slide two fingers into her channel, hooking them when I finally succumb to teasing her clit, sucking it as I run my tongue in circles over the delicate nerves.
She begins to shiver, her legs trembling, her breathy moans turning into drawn out keens as pleasure pulses through her. She is grinding against my face now, pulling my head as close as she can. Then with one final shudder, tension leaves her body and she goes limp against the tree.
I withdraw my fingers slowly, enjoying the way her walls flutter around them, then reluctantly take my mouth off her and lick her arousal from them.