Epilogue Elena #3
When he finally pulls back, his lips are wet, and his eyes are dark with hunger.
He stands and strips off the rest of his clothes quickly, and then he's climbing onto the bed, covering my body with his.
I feel the hard length of him pressing against my thigh, and I reach down to wrap my hand around him, stroking slowly.
He groans, his hips jerking into my touch. "Fuck, Elena."
"I want you inside me," I whisper. "I want to feel you."
“Fuck.” He presses his forehead against mine. “I haven’t fucked you without a condom since that first night. I don’t know how long I’ll last.”
“We have all night,” I smirk up at him. “And you did once tell me you could get hard for me as many times as I wanted.”
His eyebrows rise at that. “Oh, I might make you regret that, baby,” he growls, and his hand goes around his cock, replacing mine as he angles himself toward my entrance. He pushes just the tip inside, hissing through his teeth with the pleasure, and then deeper, filling me completely.
“Oh God,” he groans, going still. “Fuck, you’re so tight. So wet and hot. Oh fuck, it feels so good. Fuck—”
"Move," I urge, wrapping my legs around his waist. "Please, Declan. You don’t have to last, just fuck me."
He groans at that, and obliges, drawing out and thrusting in hard again.
Each stroke sends pleasure rippling through me, and I cling to him, my nails digging into his shoulders.
He buries his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin, and I feel the tension coiling in him, the way his muscles tighten with each thrust.
When he starts to fuck me harder, I know I’m going to go over the edge again. "Come for me," he growls, his hand sliding between us to circle my clit. "I want to feel you come around my cock."
The combination of his words and his touch sends me over the edge, and I shatter, my body convulsing around him. “Oh God, baby—” He groans, thrusting erratically. “Fuck, I’m going to come—”
I feel him stiffen and throb, a moan tearing from him as he begins to spurt inside of me for the first time, filling me up. I gasp, aftershocks of pleasure racing through me at the sensation, and the feeling of doing this together for the first time.
It feels like what our wedding night should have been, and I’m glad we’re getting this now, when we both know we love each other. When we both want to be here.
He rolls to the side, pulling me with him so that I'm tucked against his chest, his arms wrapped around me.
We lie there in silence for a while, just holding each other, and I feel a sense of peace settle over me that's deeper than anything I've ever known.
This is what I want. This man, this life, this future we're building together.
"Do you think it worked?" Declan asks quietly, his hand resting on my stomach.
I smile against his chest. "Maybe. Or maybe it will take a few tries."
"I'm okay with that.” I can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm very okay with that."
I tilt my head back to look up at him, and the expression on his face makes my heart swell. "I'm happy," I tell him. "Right now, in this moment, I'm happier than I've ever been."
"Me too," he says, leaning down to kiss me softly. "Me too, Elena."
We stay like that, wrapped up in each other, talking quietly about the future.
About names we like, and what kind of parents we want to be, about the life we're going to build for our family.
And as I lie there in his arms, looking out at the city lights through the window, I realize that this is everything I never knew I wanted.
Declan is my home, the love of my life, and my forever.
And I wouldn't change a single thing.
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Vicious Betrayal is my next standalone dark mafia romance, where falling for the enemy was never part of the plan… and betraying him was never supposed to break her heart.
Irish enforcer x Bratva princess
FBI undercover betrayal
Unexpected pregnancy
Age gap
Lovers to enemies to lovers
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Now, enjoy the sneak peek from Chapter One…
Oksana
And then, as I spin around, rolling my hips against Bianca as we dance together, I see a man standing at the bar.
I wasn't looking for anyone in particular.
My eyes catch on the bar almost by accident, sliding across the crowd.
And then they stop. Because there's a man sitting there, alone, and he looks startlingly out of place wedged between a girl in a skirt so short I can almost see the curve of her ass and a guy with a shirt open almost to his navel and chains littering his sweaty chest.
He's older than anyone else in this club by at least a decade, maybe more.
Late thirties, I'd guess, maybe forty. He's not dressed like the rest of the men here.
He's not wearing a suit or a half-open silk shirt or a hipster-y skinny tie.
He's in dark plain jeans and a black button-down with the first two buttons open, showing a hint of chest hair with a thin gold chain lying against it.
I can see ink just below his collarbones and crawling up the muscled forearms visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves, and he looks incredibly fit, shoulders pushing at the seams of his shirt.
His hair is a dark reddish-brown, curling slightly at the nape of his neck and behind his ears from the humidity in the club, and he has a short, well-kept beard on a strong jaw.
He looks a little weathered and tired, but something about that is strangely appealing.
He's not hitting on anyone at the bar or hunting for a conquest. I have no idea if that's just because he doesn't need to or because he's disinterested, but that lack of prowling hunger catches my attention as much as his appearance.
He isn't talking to anyone except occasionally, the bartender and even then it's brief—a word, maybe two, before he goes still again, watching the club with an expression I can't quite read from here.
Not bored, exactly. Alert, like he's cataloging every person in the room.
There's a stillness to him that doesn't match the chaos around him at all.
"Oksana." Bianca's voice cuts through, and I realize I've stopped dancing entirely. "What are you looking at?"
I don't answer right away. I can't decide if I want to share this pull I'm feeling toward a stranger who hasn't so much as glanced in my direction. But Talia follows my gaze anyway. Subtlety has never been my strong suit, and within seconds all three of them are looking too.
"Oh," Priya says, her voice low and appreciative. "Oh."
"Who is that?" Talia asks in my ear.
"I don't know," I say slowly, still watching him.
He lifts his glass, filled with a small amount of some amber liquid, and takes a sip, his gaze still sliding across the room before returning to the bartender.
His forearm flexes and his throat moves, Adam's apple bobbing as he leans back slightly on his barstool.
His thighs look muscled in the tight fit of his jeans, and below them, he's wearing motorcycle boots that look like they've seen better days. "But look at him."
"He's like fifty," Bianca says. She wrinkles her nose a little.
"He's not fifty." But he is definitely a lot older than me.
He lifts the glass again, and I focus on on his hands.
They're long-fingered, veined, and I wonder if they're scarred.
He looks like trouble, like a man who gets shit done, probably with a heavy hand.
A burst of heat ripples out through me, and I feel my teeth sink into my lip.
I'm not a virgin. I've had a handful of hookups in club bathrooms and dark corners, messy kisses and fingers and hands in places I know they shouldn't be, and twice I've snuck away from my security to go further with someone.
Once, my first time, was in the back seat of a Maserati in the parking garage behind a downtown club, and the other was up against the wall behind a fancy bar, an empty bottle of Veuve Clicquot rolling against my shoe while he pounded into me.
But those men were young, reckless as I am, and not that good at what they were trying to do to me, more focused on their pleasure than mine.
I got off on it because of the danger and the thrill, not because of any skill on their parts.
"He's maybe forty. And he's gorgeous." I run my tongue over the sting on my bottom lip where I chewed it, still halfheartedly moving to the music while I try to decide what I'm going to do.
"He's giving off serious don't-fuck-with-me energy," Priya says.
She's not wrong. Even the men around him seem to give him space without quite realizing they're doing it.
Two guys in expensive suits laugh loudly a few stools down, and he doesn't so much as glance at them, but there's something in the set of his shoulders that suggests he's aware of everything happening around him regardless.
"That's exactly the energy I'm here for," I say. Bianca laughs delightedly.
"You're not serious."
"Watch me."
I toss back the rest of my drink and hand the empty glass to Talia before she can talk me out of it.
She looks like she wants to. Her eyes are wide, half amused and half concerned.
It's the expression she gets whenever I'm about to do something she considers reckless, which happens often enough that she's developed several varieties of looks depending on the occasion.
"Oksana, he could be—"