Page 64 of Wicked Mafia Beast
She sinks down onto me with a sigh that sounds like coming home.
The heat of her envelops me inch by inch, tight and wet and gripping, her inner walls stretching to accommodate me with a slow, deliberate patience that makes my fingers curl into the armrests of the chair. She takes all of me, settles fully in my lap, and the intimacy of being joined this way, face to face, chest to chest, breath to breath, is more devastating than any violence I've survived.
We move together. Unhurried. Her hips rock in slow circles, each rotation grinding her clit against my pelvic bone, each shift tightening her walls around my shaft. My hands grip her waist, guiding but not controlling, letting her set the pace.
Her forehead presses against mine. Eyes open. Watching each other.
"Konstantin." My name falls from her lips, quiet and trembling. Not Beast. Not the sardonic nickname.Konstantin.The full weight of my name in her mouth swells my cock.
"Onyx." I breathe her name against her lips, tasting it, claiming it. "Moy ??????."
Her rhythm falters, her hips stuttering, her walls clenching around me in a tightening spiral. I grip her hips and angle her forward, pressing deeper, hitting the spot that makes her gasp.
"Right there." She clutches my shoulders, her nails pressing half-moons into my skin through the shirt. "Don't stop. Please, right there."
I hold the angle and let her ride, watching the pleasure build across her features, the flush climbing her chest and throat, her lips parting, her brow furrowing in concentration. The quiet sounds she makes fill the office, unguarded, unhidden, no longer muffled against my shoulder or bitten back behind clenched teeth. She lets me hear her, and the trust embedded in that offering undoes me completely.
She comes with my name on her lips. A trembling exhale that vibrates through her body and into mine, her walls pulsing around me in slow, rhythmic waves.
I follow her over. Bury myself deep and let go, my release pouring into her in hot, shuddering pulses. I press my face against her throat and breathe her in, my arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her tight against my chest.
We stay like that. Connected. Breathing. The leather chair creaking softly beneath our combined weight.
"This is getting complicated," she murmurs against my hair.
"Da."
"I don't do complicated."
"Neither do I."
"So what do we do?"
I brush the hair from her face. Tuck it behind her ear. Trace the line of her jaw with my thumb, feeling the warmth of her skin, the steady pulse beneath it.
"We figure it out."
"Together?" The word hovers between us, loaded and terrifying and too fragile to touch.
"Together." I confirm it because she needs to hear it and because the word, once spoken, becomes real.
She kisses me again. Soft. A seal on a promise neither of us meant to make.
That evening, I find her asleep on the couch with her laptop open on her stomach, the screen dark, her breathing deep and even. The light from the kitchen casts a warm glow across her face, erasing the faint worry line between her brows.
I lift the laptop carefully and set it on the coffee table. She stirs, murmurs my name, and resettles.
I sit beside her. Her head finds my lap without waking, as if her body knows where it belongs even when her mind is elsewhere. My fingers thread through her dark hair, untangling the strands, tracing the curve of her ear.
"Kon?"
"Mm." My fingers continue threading through her hair, slow and steady.
"I need to tell you something and I need you to not make it weird."
My hand pauses. "Define weird."
"I forgot my birth control pills at my father's house. Kind of hard to remember them when on the run, but you know what I mean." The words tumble out of her in a rush, graceless and hurried, nothing like the woman who just negotiated a contract with surgical precision. "I haven't taken one since before the auction. Which means every single time we've..." She gestures vaguely between us, her cheeks burning crimson from jaw to hairline. "I'm not protected, is what I am saying. I haven't been this whole time. I'm sorry. I should have said something sooner but my brain has been occupied with, you know, not dying."
