Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Leonid
All day, Laurel was lodged in my mind like a splinter I couldn’t dig out.
I barely made it through the morning meeting, half my attention on the quarterly projections, the other half on the app glowing on my phone under the table.
Every time I tapped the screen, I pictured her: thighs clenching in the middle of a lesson, cheeks flushing.
I attended the PTA meeting because I promised myself I’d be more present for Alexei, and that I would no longer send assistants in my place. But the second I walked into that classroom and saw her at the front, I knew concentrating was going to be impossible.
She avoided my eyes the entire time, shifting in her seat, pressing her thighs together every time I triggered the plug. I could see the flush creeping up her neck, the way she gripped the podium. When she excused herself mid-sentence, I waited exactly a minute before following.
Fingering her in that bathroom, her skirt bunched around her hips, panties discarded, my hand over her mouth to muffle those sweet, broken sounds, was the only thing that kept me sane for the rest of the meeting.
Afterward, I dropped Alexei off with Igor, ignored my brother’s raised eyebrow when I said I had “somewhere to be,” and drove straight here. I got here first because I ran every red light.
“What… how did you get here so fast?”
I want to tell her that her car is no match for the one I drove here. I’ve already offered to replace it more than once; each time, she shut me down.
Instead, I step closer, crowding her against the door. “That’s a rude way to welcome a guest, don’t you think?”
We stare at each other. Her chest rises and falls too fast; I can see her pulse jumping in her throat.
“Aren’t you going to open the door?” I ask, voice low.
She hesitates, then turns, fumbles the key into the lock. The door swings open. I follow her inside, close enough that my chest brushes her back.
The moment the door clicks shut behind us, I’m on her.
I spin her around, pin her back to the wood, and take her mouth in a bruising kiss.
She gasps into it; I swallow the sound. My hand dives under her skirt, finding her soaked.
I groan against her lips as I push two fingers inside her, curling them immediately to that spot that makes her knees buckle.
“Leonid—” she moans my name like a plea, hips rocking into my hand.
I pump faster, thumb circling her clit, free hand braced beside her head to keep her pinned. She’s trembling, whimpering, nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt.
I pull my fingers out abruptly.
She cries out, frustrated, eyes flashing like she wants to murder me.
I smirk. “I’d love to keep going like this, but I need to be inside you.”
I haven’t been inside her since Paris, and my cock is about to fucking explode if I don’t bury myself in her tight little cunt right now.
I unzip my trousers with one hand, shove them down just enough to free my cock. It springs out, thick, hard, tip already leaking. Her gaze drops to it instantly. Awe. Hunger. The same look she gave me the first time she saw it in Paris.
I’ll never get tired of that look.
I pump myself once, twice, and then notch the head at her entrance, sliding through her wetness, teasing us both.
She plants a hand on my chest. “Protection.”
I pause, breathing hard. “I think we passed that point, baby.”
I lean in, lips brushing her ear. “I’m clean.”
She bites her lip. “I’m not on birth control.”
“I’ll pull out. Like last time.”
A thought flashes in my mind, her belly round with my child. Possessive heat surges through me so violently that I almost growl. I don’t know where it comes from. I’ve never wanted that with anyone.
I pull back just enough to meet her eyes. “Can I fuck you now?”
She stares at me for one long heartbeat. Then. “Yes.”
That’s all I need.
I thrust in, hard, deep, burying myself to the hilt in one stroke, her tight heat gripping me like a fist.
We both groan at the same time, low and ragged, eyes dropping to where we’re connected: my cock buried to the hilt in her slick, swollen pussy, her lips stretched wide around me. It’s fucking magical. The sight alone nearly undoes me.
I pull out slowly, watching every inch slide free, glistening with her wetness, and then slam back in. Hard. Deep.
She cries out my name, nails raking down my back. Her head snaps back against the door with a thud.
I slam in again, and a broken moan tears from her throat. Her hands fly to her breasts, cupping them, pushing them together like an offering.
I yank her blouse up over her tits, drag the cups of her bra down. Her nipples are hard, pink, begging. I lean in and take one between my teeth, biting just enough to make her gasp, then suck hard, tongue flicking the tip.
She bucks against me, nails scraping my shoulders. “Leonid—”
“Play with them,” I growl against her skin. “Pinch your nipples.”
She obeys instantly, fingers rolling her peaks, tugging, whimpering as I slam into her again. I slide a hand between us, find her clit, and rub tight circles while I fuck her. Deep, punishing strokes that make the door rattle.
“Faster,” she begs, voice cracking. “Please—faster—”
I give her exactly what she wants.
My hips snap harder, faster, driving into her with brutal rhythm. She’s crying out my name now, over and over. Her walls flutter around me, clenching, milking.
She comes hard—screaming my name, body convulsing, pussy spasming so tight I almost lose it right there. The sound is pure melody, mine.
I don’t let her come down. I lift her off the floor in one motion. Her legs wrap around my waist instantly, arms locking around my neck. She’s trembling, still pulsing around my cock.
“Bedroom,” I rasp against her throat.
She points with a shaky hand. “End of the hall.”
I kick the bedroom door open, cross to the bed, and set her down on the edge.
We strip fast, frantic, messy. Her dress hits the floor. My shirt, trousers, and briefs follow.
“On the bed,” I order. “All fours.”
She scrambles to obey, kneeling, ass up, thighs spread. Her pussy glistens. pink, swollen, dripping. Perfect.
I step behind her. Slide two fingers along her slit, collecting her wetness, then drag them up, circling her tight back entrance. She jerks, gasping.
“Play with yourself,” I growl.
She reaches between her legs immediately, fingers circling her clit in frantic little strokes.
I line myself up and thrust back in, deep, hard, bottoming out in one stroke.
She cries out, body rocking forward. I grip her hips, pull her back onto me, then start fucking her, rough, relentless, skin slapping against skin. I spank her ass once, then again when she moans louder.
“Harder,” she gasps. “Please—”
I give it to her—pounding into her, fingers digging into her hips, watching her take every inch like she was made for me.
Her fingers move faster on her clit. Her moans turn into broken cries. I feel her start to flutter again, walls squeezing me like a vise.
She comes hard, squirting all over my cock in hot, pulsing waves. The sight of it, the feel of it, her release soaking my shaft, dripping down my balls, spraying across my thighs, rips a guttural groan from my chest.
I fucking love it. Love how she loses every bit of control, how her body betrays her completely for me.
I slam in deeper, once, twice, chasing the last of her spasms, and more squirt sprays out, drenching us both. She’s shaking, whimpering, completely undone.
I pull out at the last second, fist my cock, and come hard across her perfect ass, thick ropes painting her skin, marking her. She collapses forward onto the bed, face pressed into the sheets, breathing ragged.
I drop down beside her, chest heaving, and immediately pull her into my arms. She curls against me. I brush damp hair off her face, tuck it behind her ear.
“What… what was that?” she whispers, breathless, dazed.
I smirk, thumb tracing her swollen bottom lip. “That was you squirting, solnyshko.”
She blinks up at me, eyes wide. “Yeah… I always heard about it, but I never thought I was capable of that.”
“You are,” I say, voice low and rough. “And it’s fucking sexy.”
She blushes deeper, glances down at the wet spot between us on the sheets. “I made a mess.”
“A beautiful mess,” I murmur.
I lean down to kiss her. When I pull back, I brush my nose against hers. “What do you want for dinner?”
She smiles sleepily. “I was just going to order pizza.”
I roll out of bed, reach for my trousers on the floor, and fish my phone from the pocket. “Toppings?”
“Pepperoni and mushroom for one,” she says, propping herself on an elbow. “And cheese with extra sauce for the other.”
I nod, already opening the delivery app. I place the order, then head to the kitchen. Open her fridge to get water, and I find it’s almost empty. A half carton of oat milk, some wilted lettuce, a lone yogurt, and a tube of ice cream.
My jaw tightened. She wasn’t eating properly. I made a mental note—that the next day I’d have groceries delivered.
I grab two bottles of water, twist the cap off one, and take a long swig, then carry the second back to her.
She’s still sprawled on the bed, looking satiated and well-fucked. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
She takes the bottle with a“Thank you,” twisting the cap and sipping.
I disappear into her bathroom, wet a washcloth under warm water, and wring it out. When I return, she’s now lying on her stomach. I kneel on the mattress and nudge her thighs apart gently.
She giggles. “Aren’t you tired? I’m knackered.”
“No,” I say, voice low. “And no, I’m not about to fuck you again. Even though I want to.”
Her blush deepens, but she lets her legs fall open for me.
I bring the warm cloth between her thighs, wiping away the mess we made. She’s sensitive, twitching a little at the contact. I clean her inner thighs, the sticky evidence of my release on her ass.
She watched me the whole time, eyes soft, something tender flickering there that made my chest tighten.
When I’m done, I toss the cloth toward the bathroom, crawl back up the bed, and pull her against my side.
The doorbell rings.
Pizza.
I kiss her temple once, then roll out of bed and tug on my briefs. “Stay there.”
I open the door, take the boxes and two cold Cokes from the delivery guy, tip him generously, and kick the door shut.
When I turn back, she’s now in the living room, standing near the couch, wearing my oversized shirt. The hem skims the tops of her thighs; the sleeves hang past her fingertips. She looks small, soft, and so fucking mine that something possessive twists hard in my gut.
I liked seeing her naked. But this, her wrapped in my shirt, barefoot, hair mussed from my hands, hits different.
She glances over her shoulder and smiles, small, shy, that dimple flashing in her left cheek. “I thought we could watch something while we ate. Unless… you had to leave?”
I set the pizza boxes and Cokes on the coffee table. “Sit.”
She obeys, sinking onto the couch. I drop down beside her, close enough that our thighs press together. She opens the top box, pepperoni and mushroom, and the smell of hot cheese and oregano fills the room.
She flicks through channels on the TV, landing on some reality show. I barely register it. My eyes stay on her on that damn dimple that appears every time she smiles at something on screen.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
I’ve never been this enamored. Never wanted to keep someone this badly. There’s no way I’m letting her go. No fucking way.
As if she can read my thoughts, she turns her head. Our eyes lock.
Her smile falters slightly, turns tentative, and then she inhales deeply.
“Leonid, if we’re going to keep doing this,” she said quietly, “then it has to stay a secret. Because of my job. I can’t risk—”
I cut her off, voice calm but firm. “I already told you I can get you another job with better pay, and even better hours.”
She shakes her head immediately. “And I said no.”
I study her for a long moment. She’s serious.
I hate the idea of keeping her a secret. Every instinct I have, every possessive, territorial part of me recoils at it.
She was mine. I wanted the world to know it. I wanted other men to see her on my arm and understand exactly who she belonged to. I want to claim her in public the way I do in private. But I also know that’s the only way she’ll agree to keep seeing me.
“Fine,” I say at last. “We keep it quiet.”
Relief flickers across her face, followed by a small, grateful smile. That dimple again.
I lean in, kiss her, tasting pizza sauce and her. “Eat,” I murmur. “Then I’m taking you back to bed.”
She laughs, soft, breathless, and reaches for another slice.