I cry out at the fullness, still trying to catch my breath.
“Now let’s finish what we started,” he growls, pounding into me relentlessly. Within seconds, he stills deep inside me, his cock throbbing as he empties himself. I feel each spurt coating my walls.
For a moment, we stay locked like that—both of us breathing raggedly, my tits and pussy throbbing from his rough treatment, my throat raw and aching.
He eases my legs down carefully, and withdraws his cock, and I feel his cum begin dripping out of my pussy and down my legs. He becomes gentle all at once, rearranging my clothes, kissing me with surprising softness, his hands caressing the places he spanked and slapped.
“Did I hurt you?” Worry colors his voice as he kisses me tenderly.
“No… it was perfect.” My voice is hoarse from screaming.
He helps me sit up slowly, his hands supporting me. I wince slightly as I move, feeling the ache deep in my pussy and the soreness on my skin.
“One second,Vedma.” He kisses my cheek and steps out. I stay where I am, feeling his cum slide out of me and drip onto the desk. The chaos around me doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I finally got what I needed. When he comes back with a washcloth, he’s tender as he cleans his cum from my thighs and pussy, his movements slow and careful, the opposite of how he just fucked me.
“Satisfied,Vedma?” His arm wraps around my waist as he assists me down, supporting me when I sway.
“Best I’ve felt in weeks.” I collapse into him.
He pulls me into his chest. “I’m sorry,Vedma. I should have given you what you needed sooner.”
“Just don’t do it again,” I murmur against his shoulder, breathing in his scent.
“I won’t,” he promises, kissing the top of my head. “I’ll fuck you whenever you want, however you want.”
For a few breaths, we just hold each other, sticky and satisfied, the chaos of the room forgotten. Nothing else matters right now. Something changes. He goes still, looking past me at something. I turn to see what he’s looking at, following his gaze to the corkboard. It’s one of the photos still pinned to the board. From the south district. An alley shot with several men in the background.
One figure stands out in focus. And an older man - maybe in his 50s - dressed in an expensive suit, looking totally out of place in that bad neighborhood. Alexei’s expression changes completely. The tenderness drains away, replaced by something cold and furious.
“When did you shoot this?” He sounds like a stranger.
I look at the photo more carefully, confused by his reaction. “In the south district, Larissa took a few pictures.”
He says nothing, walking towards the board and unclipping that particular picture.
“Who is he?” I ask again, pulling my pants up.
“Nobody important.” He says flatly.
“I’m not stupid, Alexei.” Anger replaces my post-sex haze. “Who is he?”
“Can I have this photo?” He folds it and starts to put it in his pocket.
“Not until you explain.” I grab his arm. “Who is that man?”
The look he gives me is blank. “That’s not something I can share.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Frustration builds in my chest.
“Both.” He moves around me, heading for the door.
“Alexei!” I follow him to the doorway.
He hesitates at the threshold. “I have business to handle. Go to bed without me.”
“We’re not done talking…” I protest.
“Drop it.” His tone has gone cold. Then he’s gone, disappearing down the hallway. I hear his office door close. Then lock. I remain frozen by the doorframe, looking at where he disappeared. What the hell just happened? One moment, he was holding me, promising to never deny me again. The next, he’s cold and distant over a photograph. I turn back to the board, looking at the space where the photo used to be.