Liv
Morning comes in sunlight pouring through floor-to-ceiling glass with nothing to soften it, and for a moment I forget where I am entirely.
I feel the hard length of him pressed against my lower back, hot and insistent even through the thin sheet.
My body wakes up faster than my brain, a liquid heat pooling low in my belly, between my thighs.
Last night comes back in flashes, his mouth on me, the way he licked and sucked and made me come so hard I must have blacked out from it.
Embarrassment wars with a fresh, aching want that makes me press my thighs together.
"You're thinking very loudly," Volody says, voice rough with sleep, lips brushing the back of my shoulder. "I can practically hear it from here."
"I'm not thinking anything," I lie, my voice small and breathy.
"You're thinking about last night. Your ears have gone pink, and I noticed right before you came apart for me last night, they did the same thing then, so I have a working theory it's relevant."
"That is an unfair amount of detail for not-even-seven in the morning."
He laughs, low and warm, the sound vibrating through my back and straight between my legs. His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer, and I feel him shift. His cock, thick and hard, slides against the curve of my ass. We’re both naked and the realization sends a hot thrill through me.
I turn in his arms to face him. His hair is mussed from sleep, eyes heavy-lidded but dark with heat. He looks at me like I'm something precious and filthy all at once, like he wants to devour me and protect me in the same breath.
"Good morning," he murmurs, and then he's kissing me. Lazy morning kisses that quickly turn deeper, hungrier. His tongue strokes mine, his hand sliding down my back to cup my ass and haul me against him. I can feel every inch of his cock trapped between us, hot and throbbing.
I kiss him back with everything I have, my hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, the light dusting of hair, the way his muscles flex under my touch. When I drag my nails lightly over his nipple he groans into my mouth, the sound rough and approving.
"Liv," he warns, pulling back just enough to look at me, his eyes blazing. "If you keep that up, I'm not going to be able to stay gentle with you."
"I don't want gentle," I say, the words surprising me as they leave my mouth. Then softer, more honest: "I want you. All of you. Please."
His eyes darken further, something possessive and reverent flickering across his face. "You're sure? After last night… we can wait. I can wait as long as you need."
I shake my head, already reaching for him again. "I don't want to wait. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to be my first."
He searches my face for a long moment, then nods, his thumb stroking my cheek. "Okay. But we go slow. You tell me if it hurts too much, if you need me to stop. Deal?"
"Deal."
He kisses me again like he's savoring every second. His hand slides between my legs and finds me already wet, slick from last night and the morning ache he’s building in me. He groans when his fingers slip through my folds.
"Fuck, Liv. You're so wet for me already. This pretty little pussy is dripping with your sweet juices."
He strokes me slowly, circling my clit with his thumb while he slides one thick finger inside me.
I gasp at the intrusion, still sensitive from his mouth last night, but it feels good, full, right.
He adds a second finger, stretching me gently, scissoring them while he kisses down my throat, my collarbone, sucking one nipple into his mouth until I'm arching and moaning his name.
"That's it," he murmurs against my breast. "Get nice and ready for my cock. I want you soaked for me. Want you begging for it."
When he pulls his fingers out, I whine at the loss, but he just chuckles darkly and shifts over me, settling between my thighs.
I feel the blunt, hot head of his cock nudging at my entrance, rubbing through my slick folds and bumping my clit with every slow pass.
I moan, hips lifting instinctively, trying to take him in.
"Look at me," he says, voice low and rough. I open my eyes and meet his intense gaze that makes my chest ache. "I want to see your face when I take you for the first time. When I make you mine."
He pushes in slowly. Just the head. The stretch is almost too much. A burning, aching pressure that makes me tense up with a sharp gasp.
"Breathe, Liv," he says immediately, kissing my forehead, my cheek, my lips. "I've got you. Relax for me. Let me in."
I try to breathe through it. He pushes a little more. It burns deeper, a sharp stretch that borders on real pain. I dig my nails into his shoulders.
"Too much?" he asks, already starting to ease back.
"No," I say quickly, wrapping my legs around his waist to keep him there. "Don't stop. Please. I want it. I want all of you."
He groans, forehead dropping to mine. "Fuck, you're going to kill me. So tight. So perfect. My perfect Liv."
He pushes in another inch. Then another. Slow and careful, pausing every time I tense to let me adjust. It hurts, but underneath the discomfort is a fullness I've never felt, a connection that makes tears prick my eyes with how much I want this.
When he's finally all the way inside me, pelvis flush against mine, we both go still. He's buried deep, so deep I can feel him everywhere. The throb of his cock, the way my walls flutter and clench around him, trying to adjust to the invasion.
"You okay?" he asks, voice strained tight with control.
I nod, a tear slipping down my temple. "I'm okay. You feel… so big. So full. It hurts a little but… I like it. I like feeling you like this."
He kisses the tear away, then my lips. "You feel like heaven. Like you were made for me. So tight and hot and mine."
He starts to move. Slow, shallow thrusts at first, barely pulling out before pressing back in. The pain fades with each careful stroke, replaced by a growing, liquid pleasure. A delicious friction that makes me moan and arch beneath him.
"More," I whisper. Then louder, desperate. "More, Volody. Please. It feels so good." The last word is ripped out on a moan.
His control frays. He picks up the pace, still careful but deeper, harder. I meet him thrust for thrust, my hips rising greedily to take him.
"Harder," I beg, the word tumbling out raw. "Please. I can take it. I want to feel you’re hot cum fill me. Don't stop."
"Fuck, Liv," he groans, hips snapping harder now. "The way you beg for my cock… You're going to make me lose it."
He fucks me in earnest now. Deep, steady, powerful strokes that hit something inside me with every thrust, sending sparks of pleasure racing up my spine. I cling to him, nails raking down his back, legs locked tight around his waist like I never want to let him go.
"Don't stop," I chant, voice breaking. "Please don't stop. It feels so good, so deep. Fill me up. Come inside me. I want it—I want all of you. Please, Volody."
The words pour out of me, shameless and desperate. I don't care how needy I sound. I need this. I need him. All of him.
He reaches between us and rubs me with his thumb in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, Liv. Come on my cock. Let me feel this pretty pussy milk me dry."
I come hard, crying out his name as my body clamps down on him in rhythmic, pulsing waves. The orgasm is deeper, fuller, more intense than anything his mouth gave me. It rolls through me in long, shattering crests.
He follows right after with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt. I feel the hot, thick pulse of him inside me and the sensation pushes me into another small, trembling aftershock.
He collapses over me, careful not to crush me, his face buried in my neck, breathing hard. We stay like that while we try to catch our breath, hearts pounding together, his cock still buried deep inside me, softening slowly as we catch our breath.
When he finally pulls out I wince at the emptiness and the deep, satisfied soreness between my legs.
He notices immediately, kisses my forehead, and slips away for a moment, returning with a warm, damp cloth.
He cleans me gently, reverently, like I'm something fragile and precious.
Then he pulls me into his arms, tucking me against his chest.
"You okay?" he asks again, stroking my hair back from my face, his voice soft with concern and satisfaction.
"Better than okay," I say, smiling against his skin. "A little sore. But… I liked it. A lot. I liked begging for you."
He chuckles, the sound warm and deeply satisfied, and presses a kiss to the top of my head. "Good. Because I'm nowhere near done with you, Alivia Beckett. Not even close."
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and some old, well-worn instinct in me reaches for it before I can stop myself, the way you check a wound to see if it's still bleeding.
Three texts from Cole.
Morning. Congratulations, I guess. Heard it went well.
My stomach drops before I even reach the second one.
I need you to find out how fast the Mostovoi’s move on these things. People are asking questions and I need an answer by Monday.
This is good for both of us, Liv. Don't make it complicated.
I read it twice, then a third time, hoping the words will somehow soften on repeat exposure.
They don't. If anything, the second reading makes it worse, because I notice the thing I missed the first time, that there isn't a single word in any of it asking how I am.
Not one question about the dinner, the man, the night, the entire upheaval of my life that happened without my consent twelve hours ago. Just a deadline. Monday.
"What is it?" Volody asks against my hair.
"It's nothing,” I say with a sigh as I lay my phone back on the nightstand. Volody must have put it there after I fell asleep.
"Liv." His voice gentles, but there's an edge underneath it now, something sharpening. "We agreed on honest last night. I'd like to keep that going into the daylight hours, if it's not too much to ask."