Chapter Fourteen - Dimitri
The storm owns the night.
It slams against the windows hard enough to make the glass shiver, thunder rolling across the hills like artillery.
The old estate breathes with it—wood groaning, shutters rattling, the kind of noise that puts men on edge even when they know the walls will hold.
I walk the corridors anyway, slow, deliberate, every step a reminder to my men that order doesn’t crack just because the sky does.
When the power dies, it’s as if the house itself exhales. The hum of electricity cuts, leaving only the rain. For a moment, the silence feels alive, pressing into the space between each heartbeat. My eyes adjust quickly. I know these halls in shadow, but even I pause when I see her.
Annie.
She shouldn’t be here. Not wandering the dark like prey daring the predator to notice. Her outline flickers faint at the end of the corridor, a shift of pale dress against deeper black. She moves like someone who doesn’t believe in ghosts but half expects to meet one anyway.
My body answers before my mind does. I reach.
My hand catches her wrist. She startles, a sharp inhale breaking the hush, her pulse jumping beneath my fingers. The skin is warm, delicate, the beat fast. I step closer, pulling her into my shadow, steadying her in the dark.
“Careful,” I murmur. My voice is low, close to her ear, pitched so the storm almost swallows it.
Her breath hitches again. She tilts her chin, stubborn even with fear trembling through her. “I’m fine.”
Another flash of lightning rips the hall open, bleaching her face in silver light. Her eyes meet mine, wide but steady, pupils blown wide from the dark. We’re too close. The storm outside rages, but it’s nothing compared to the chaos clawing through me.
The corridor feels smaller, the silence unbearable. I don’t let her go.
I lead her without a word, our footsteps muffled on thick carpet, until we reach my room.
The door shuts with a sound that seals the world out, leaving us with the storm.
A single candle burns on the table, throwing shadows up the walls, painting her face in gold and black.
She looks untamed in that light—hair falling wild, lips parted, breath uneven.
I should put distance between us. Remind her where she stands. Instead, I step into the fire she carries.
The air between us hums with charge, like the storm has crawled inside these walls and set us alight. Neither of us looks away. I hold her wrist still, my thumb tracing the fragile line of her pulse, and she doesn’t pull back.
I can smell her—soap and something softer, threaded with the faintest trace of fear. It drives me harder than perfume ever could. Fear and defiance, tangled together. She looks at me like she knows I’ll break her, and like she wants to see how.
The urge hits sharp. Not careful. Not controlled.
I kiss her.
My mouth claims hers with the same precision I use to pull a trigger. Urgency. Hunger. No patience for hesitation. Her gasp spills against my lips, sharp and sweet, before she answers with a heat that shocks me more than the lightning ever could.
Her hands clutch at my shirt, twisting the fabric, dragging me closer as though she can’t decide whether to fight me or hold me. I don’t give her the chance to choose. My grip slides to her waist, hauling her flush against me, the candle’s flame flaring with the draft of our movement.
The taste of her is reckless. The sound of her breath breaking against mine makes my blood pound. I don’t think about consequences, don’t think about rules or control. For the first time in years, I let the storm own me.
She doesn’t look away.
She matches me, kiss for kiss, breath for breath, until the fire between us is a living thing that no cage can hold.
I know this is more than hunger, more than the need to remind her who holds the power. It’s something deeper, darker, something I don’t want to name.
The hesitation is there, a tremor in the way her lips part, a stiffness in her body when I press her closer.
For a second, I think she’ll pull away, remind me of the line we’ve both been pretending not to see.
Then her resistance melts, a soft sigh breaking against my mouth, and her fingers fist tighter in my shirt.
The rain drums hard against the windows, but it’s already fading into the background, swallowed by the heat between us.
My hand slides up her back, finding the nape of her neck, holding her steady as I deepen the kiss.
She tastes like defiance, like every reckless choice that’s ever set her in my path.
I break away long enough to catch her gaze in the candlelight. Her chest rises and falls too quickly, pupils wide, lips swollen. Her hands shake when they slide down to my waist, but she doesn’t let go.
“Dimitri,” she whispers, her voice thin, raw.
I press my forehead to hers. “What?”
Her throat works, the words dragged from her like confession. “I’ve never… I’m a virgin.”
The revelation hits like lightning, sharp and consuming. For a moment, the weight of it roots me to the floor. The hunger in me doesn’t dim—it sharpens, coils tight with something deeper, something darker. My thumb strokes her jaw, gentler than I mean it to be.
“You’re certain you want this?” My voice is low, dangerous, more growl than question.
Her nod is small, but steady. “I want this. I want you.”
Control slips.
I claim her mouth again, rougher now, every kiss a demand and a promise. My hands drag down her sides, memorizing the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. She shivers when I grip her thigh and pull it high against me, her dress riding up to reveal soft skin beneath my palm.
Her gasp feeds me. I press her back until the wall meets her spine, the candle’s flame shuddering with the movement. Her legs tremble when I press against her, hard and aching through the thin barrier of her dress.
She whimpers, the sound sharp and helpless. I swallow it with another kiss, my tongue sliding against hers, pulling every ounce of heat from her until she’s panting into my mouth. My fingers push higher, sliding beneath the hem of her dress, finding bare skin.
Her thighs part instinctively when I drag my hand between them. The heat waiting there makes my jaw clench. I tease along her slit through the thin scrap of lace, already damp. She jerks against me, nails digging into my shoulders.
“Already wet for me,” I murmur against her lips. “You’ve been wanting this.”
Her head tips back, baring her throat. I bite down, sharp enough to make her moan, my fingers stroking her slowly, deliberately, until she’s trembling. Her voice breaks on my name, soft and desperate.
I hook my fingers into the lace, tearing it aside, needing to feel her without barriers. The first brush of my fingers against her bare cunt makes her whole body jolt. She’s slick, hot, her walls clenching around nothing as I slide two fingers along her folds, circling her clit until she’s gasping.
“Please,” she whispers, the word barely audible.
“Please what?” I press my fingers harder, circling her until her knees start to give. “Tell me what you want.”
Her eyes flutter open, glazed with need. “Touch me. Don’t stop.”
I thrust two fingers inside her, slow at first, stretching her tight heat around me. She cries out, the sound raw, clinging to me as her walls clamp down hard. I pump slowly, curling my fingers until I find the spot that makes her whole body shiver.
Her moans grow louder, unrestrained, filling the room until they drown out the storm. I work her harder, faster, until the sound of her slick cunt sucking around my fingers makes my cock ache. I bite her lip, drinking in every whimper, every broken sound.
When she shatters, it’s sudden, violent. Her back arches against the wall, legs clamping around my waist, cunt gripping my fingers like a vise as she screams my name. I hold her through it, grinding my thumb against her clit until she collapses against me, trembling, soaked.
I pull my fingers free and lick them clean, never breaking her gaze. She watches, flushed and wide-eyed, breath ragged.
“On the bed,” I command. My voice leaves no room for argument.
She stumbles back, the hem of her dress still bunched around her hips, hair wild, lips swollen. The candlelight flickers over her skin as she climbs onto the mattress, sinking back against the pillows. She spreads her thighs, uncertain but willing, her chest rising fast.
I strip, piece by piece, letting her watch. Her eyes track every movement, lingering on my cock when it springs free, hard and heavy, the tip already slick. She swallows, nervous, but doesn’t look away.
I crawl over her, bracing myself on one arm, guiding the head of my cock along her slit with the other. She gasps when it brushes her clit, her hips jerking up instinctively.
“It’ll hurt,” I warn, my voice rough. “But you’ll take me.”
Her eyes burn into mine. “I know.”
That’s all it takes.
I press forward, slow but unyielding. Her body resists at first, tight and trembling, but I push through inch by inch, stretching her around me. She gasps, nails clawing at my back, pain flashing across her face.
“Breathe,” I growl, kissing her hard, swallowing her whimpers. I give her a moment, then thrust deeper. She cries out, the sound sharp with pain and pleasure tangled together.
I hold still when I’m buried halfway, her cunt gripping me like a fist. My forehead drops to hers, my breath harsh. “You feel that? You’re mine now.”
Her answer is a shuddering moan, her hips lifting to take more.
I push deeper, relentless, until I’m seated fully inside her, her walls stretched tight around me. She trembles, whimpers, but the look in her eyes is wild, hungry.
Her body is stretched tight around me, heat clutching every inch of my cock. I stay buried deep, savoring the way she trembles beneath me, the small, helpless sounds spilling from her lips.
I draw back slowly, almost all the way, then thrust forward again, harder this time.
She gasps, nails sinking into my shoulders, her back arching as her cunt grips me tight.
The sting of her virgin body giving way is there, but so is the slick flood of arousal that coats me, proof of how badly she wants this.
“Dimitri—” My name breaks from her throat like a plea.
I catch her mouth in another kiss, devouring the sound, thrusting deeper until I bottom out. She cries against my lips, half pain, half raw need, and I groan into her mouth, the feel of her nearly undoing me.
“You’re mine now,” I repeat, driving into her again. “Every inch of you.”
Her moan is desperate, high and wrecked, her body straining to take me. I set a rhythm, slow at first, letting her adjust, each stroke grinding deep, stretching her until she’s shaking. Her tight walls drag against my cock, milking me with every thrust.
Her legs wrap around my waist, holding me closer, forcing me deeper.
She doesn’t even realize what she’s asking for, but I give it to her, slamming harder, faster, until the headboard rattles against the wall.
The candle flickers wildly, shadows leaping as the storm rages outside, echoing the chaos inside us.
Her voice rises with each thrust, gasps turning into cries, cries into moans that fill the room. She clutches me like she’ll drown without me, her nails raking down my back, her cunt tightening, fluttering, desperate for release.
I shift, grinding against her clit with every stroke. The effect is instant—she screams my name, her body convulsing as she shatters around me. Her pussy clamps down hard, milking my cock, soaking me as she thrashes beneath me.
The sight of her coming undone pushes me over the edge. I pound into her mercilessly, chasing my own release, every thrust a claim, every groan torn from deep in my chest. Her walls squeeze me so tight I can’t hold back.
With a final, brutal thrust, I bury myself to the hilt and spill inside her, heat flooding her as my orgasm rips through me. My groan is low, guttural, teeth bared against her throat as I mark her with every pulse of my cock.
For a long moment, the only sounds are our ragged breaths and the rain hammering against the windows. She trembles under me, still clutching, still gasping, her lips swollen and her body wrecked.
I stay buried deep, unwilling to pull away, my hand cradling her jaw, forcing her to meet my eyes. The line we walked is gone, burned away with the storm.
She’s mine now. Entirely.