Chapter 23 Raina
RAINA
The house feels different the moment we walk inside. Warmer. Quieter. Like the walls know we came back together.
Nadia holds both our hands as we move through the hall. Her grip is tight but calmer now. Her eyes move from me to Sergei, like she keeps checking that we’re real.
We settle on the couch in the main room. Nadia crawls between us and presses her face into my side. Sergei rests his hand on her back, slow and steady. For the first time in what feels like days, I breathe without pain.
“You’re home,” Nadia whispers. “I can sleep now.”
“Yes,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “You can sleep as long as you want.”
Sergei leans forward and brushes her hair off her face. “You brought your mother back,” he says. “You did more than most grown men can do.”
She smiles, small and tired. “I knew you’d find her,” she says to him.
“I knew she’d guide me,” he answers. “Little star doesn’t miss a thing.”
Her eyes close before I can say anything more. One breath, then another, then her whole body softens in our laps. She’s out completely.
Sergei lifts her gently and carries her to her room. I follow. He lays her down, tucks the blanket around her, and places her bear under her arm.
She doesn’t even stir.
We stand by the door for a moment, watching her. My throat feels tight again, but this time it’s from relief.
“I thought I’d never see this again,” I whisper.
Sergei’s arm slips around my waist. “You will see it every night,” he says. “I swear it.”
We step out and close the door. The hall feels dim and quiet. I lean against the wall for a second. My legs feel shaky. My body is tense and dirty and sore.
“I need a shower,” I say softly.
He studies my face for a long moment. His eyes run over the bruise on my temple, the dried dust on my neck, the cracked skin on my wrists. Something shifts in his expression.
“I’ll stay close,” he says.
I walk into our bathroom and turn on the water. The steam rises fast, warm and clean. I peel off my clothes one piece at a time. The hot spray hits my skin and pulls a groan from my chest. It feels like the first real warmth since that cold chair, that bomb, that voice.
I close my eyes and let the water run down my back.
A few seconds pass. Then I hear the door open. Slow. Certain.
I turn my head.
Sergei steps into the shower already shirtless, and the sight of him hits me like a fist to the chest. He’s all silver fox Mafia fantasy made flesh—dark hair slicked back, silver at the temples catching the steam like frost, those careful slow eyes moving over my naked body with a hunger that has nothing to do with anger or fear.
Something deep inside me unclenches at that look, something that’s been held tight for way too fucking long.
He walks to the glass door, rests his hand on it for a second, fingers splayed. “Raina,” he says, voice low and rough like whiskey over gravel—drop dead sexy.
My breath catches hard, pussy throbbing. “Come in,” I whisper, spreading my legs a little under the spray.
Sergei steps inside without breaking eye contact.
Steam wraps us thick and hot. Water streams down his hard chest, over ridges of muscle and scars, dripping off his thick cock already half-hard.
It runs down my tits, my stomach, between my thighs where I’m soaked—not from the shower.
He crowds close, breath hitting my cheek warm.
His hand lifts slow, fingers brushing wet hair behind my ear.
I lean into it, nipples tight, body buzzing.
Fear and adrenaline twist into pure need.
I want him to fuck the tension out of me, own me completely.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs quiet, eyes dark. “I need to show you. Taste this pussy until you forget everything else.”
I swallow thickly, voice dropping huskily. “Show me, then. Eat me like you own it.”
Hunger flashes in his eyes—need, relief, possession. His rough hands slide down my sides, thumbs grazing my ribs, then grip my hips hard. He pulls me back against the tiled wall. Water pounds us both. My breath shakes as he drops to his knees, water streaming over his silver-streaked hair.
He doesn’t rush. His big hands grip my thighs firm, spread them wide, thumbs pulling my pussy lips open. Cool air hits my clit before his hot mouth does. When his tongue flicks my swollen clit soft at first, my head snaps back against tile.
“Fuck,” I hiss, knees buckling.
His tongue laps my slit slow, tasting my juices mixed with water. He groans deep, vibration hitting my core. My hands grab his wet shoulders, nails digging. His grip tightens on my thighs, holding me spread like a feast. Fingers bruise my skin—he’s afraid I’ll vanish.
“Sergei…” I gasp quietly, hips rocking.
He answers by sucking my clit hard, tongue circling filthy.
He licks deeper, tongue-fucking my hole, nose grinding my clit.
He owns every fold, every drip. Water runs down my stomach onto his face.
His mouth devours me—sucking, licking, teeth grazing my lips.
My pussy clenches empty. I arch hard, tits bouncing under spray.
Fingers twist in his slick hair, yanking.
He growls into my cunt, the rumble shooting fire through me. My breath shatters. Thighs quake around his head. Tile scorches my back. I grind shamelessly against his face.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, desperate. “Suck my clit harder.”
He obeys. Fingers dig into my ass, pulling me onto his tongue.
Two thick fingers slam inside my pussy, curling to hit my g-spot while he sucks my clit like candy.
My heartbeat thunders. Legs shake wildly.
He feels it—hands slide up, grip my hips, lift me higher.
His rhythm matches my bucks, tongue relentless.
Climax rips me apart. My pussy spasms on his fingers, gushing hot into his mouth. I bite my lip bloody to muffle the cry. Body shudders against his face. He licks every drop through the waves, tongue soft now, fingers pumping slow. I sag against the wall, legs jelly.
Steam thickens as he rises slowly, holding my hips like he’ll never let go. My pulse races. His cock stands full hard now—thick, veined, tip leaking under water. Every muscle coils tight, jaw clenched gorgeous. He stares down, eyes fierce, all for me.
I want to wreck him back. Taste him. Make him beg.
My palm presses his chest. His heart pounds wildly. I slide my hand down his ripped stomach, slow, nails scraping. His breath hitches sharp. Eyes go black.
“Raina…” he warns, voice cracking. Like he’ll break.
I shake my head, kiss his wet chest, tongue his nipple. Then I drop to my knees on slick tile. Water hammers my back. He towers—broad, tense, cock throbbing inches from my face.
I grip his base firmly. He’s rock-hard, thick as my wrist, pulsing hot in my palm. Precum beads at the slit. His jaw locks as I stroke slowly, thumb smearing the head. His hips twitch forward. He stares down, wrecked. Like he forgot this—being sucked without blood or bullets.
I lean in, kiss the fat head softly. He exhales raggedly. My tongue flicks the slit, tasting salt, lick from balls up the underside slowly, tracing every vein. His hand threads my wet hair gently, not forcing.
“Fuck, Raina,” he mutters.
I swallow him deep, lips stretched wide around his girth, tongue swirling the head as he slides down my throat. His breath fractures, fingers flex in my hair, then loosen control.
“Slow,” he rasps low, hips locked. “Haven’t had this mouth… can’t—”
I hollow my cheeks, suck hard, take him deeper till my nose hits his pubes. His groan bounces off tiles. His hips jerk once before he reins it in.
He fights so hard not to fuck my face. It makes me crave breaking him. I pull off slowly, hand pumping his slick shaft while my tongue laps his balls, sucking one into my mouth. His thighs tense.
“Raina… enough,” he rasps, desperate, hand trembling in my hair.
But I flatten my tongue under his cock, swallow him balls-deep again. My throat squeezes tight. His grip tightens. His hips thrust sharply—instinct wins. His cock hits my gag reflex. “Raina—” he growls, voice pure sex.