“You will be doing exactly that, my love,” I said through gritted teeth, slamming my weight into her while she continued to take it with the efficiency of someone who knew exactly what she had walked into. Her long legs were tied around my waist, which made me feel as if she were holding me and would never let me go.
I could feel the patterns her fingers continued to make on my back, the sweet pain that came with those scratches making me only want to go harder and faster. My own orgasm was inching closer, the frustration of being close to her but not being able to touch her for so many days now bringing me to the edge quicker than I had intended. But I didn’t care.
“Do you want to come for me now, Elisse?” I whispered, and she nodded, unable to speak coherently.
“Yes, yes, yes, Fyodor,” she shouted, orgasming all over me. I waited for her to ride out her pleasure while her entire body sank into me for a second time. Once I knew she wasbreathing normally again, I began moving inside her once again, exploring her wet folds with even more precision than before.
Within seconds, I felt my core tighten, and I did the same, filling her with every last drop of me until both of us were fully spent. She continued holding onto me as if she didn’t want me to get out of her, and I sank down on top of her while continuing to hold her close, both our heartbeats syncing with one another. We stayed there, our hands clasped together and bodies entangled while we slowly calmed down, realizing the impact of what had just happened.
We had crossed a line.
Not a line drawn by marriage papers but the one marked by territory or blood. A different one. A line that was more permanent and far more dangerous. I brushed my hand down her spine, slower now. Not possessive. Not forceful. Just present, and she melted into my touch just enough that I could feel the shift.
It took a few seconds before reality rushed back in. Her breathing changed first, as it steadied and hardened. The softness draining from it like water pulled through a sieve. Then her hands released me, and she turned her face away.
“Don’t,” she said, and I stilled.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t act like that meant something.” Her voice was raw but not weak.
I watched her carefully as she pushed herself upright, dragging the sheet on the sofa around her body like armor. Her hair was tangled, and her lips swollen. With her skin flushed, she looked shaken and seemed to be furious about it.
“It meant exactly what it was,” I said evenly.
“And what was that?” she snapped.
“Us.”
She let out a brittle laugh. “There is no such thing as ‘us.’ You and I are in a contract. There are guards and locked doors, and what just happened was not some turning point for our non-existent relationship.”
I sat up slowly, studying her profile, noticing how she wouldn’t even look at me.
“It doesn’t erase anything,” she said, more quietly now. “It doesn’t fix what you did.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
“Good. Because this changes nothing.”
“You keep saying that,” I murmured.
“Because it’s true.” She said, her gaze finally snapping to mine. “You think one night, one moment, means I forgive you? That I will suddenly accept this?”
“No. I only think that you wanted me.”
Her breath caught again, but anger flared on her face to cover it.
“Wanting isn’t the same as trusting or staying.”
“No, it isn’t.”
I didn’t contradict her, but we both knew it was more than a reaction. She slid off the couch, putting physical space between us. The distance felt louder than any argument, and she moved towards the windows, still clutching the sheet.
“You don’t get to interpret this however it suits you,” she said.
“I am doing no such thing, Elisse.”
“Yes, you are.”