AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Seems you're quite the morning person," Mariya teases, her voice still husky with pleasure, a sexy smile playing on her lips.
I can't help but chuckle, leaning in to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face. "Only when the morning view is as beautiful as this," I retort, my gaze lingering on the soft contours of her face, touched gently by the sun's rays.
She rolls her eyes but the grin on her lips and the warmth in her cheeks tells me she’s pleased.
With a mischievous glint in her eye, she shifts, positioning herself above me. I guide her, our hands entwined, as she takes control. The world narrows down to just us, the give and take, the push and pull of a dance we're both eager to master.
“Damien,” she sighs. “I’m so close.”
The feeling is more than mutual. I answer her by letting go of her hands, reaching around and grabbing her rear, guiding her movements. She gasps, telling me that I’ve positioned her in just the right way.
Her intensity grows, her breasts bouncing before me, her hair wild and untamed.
“Come for me, Mariya,” I growl, sitting up and wrapping my arm around her. “Come for me now.”
She nods, all the communication she’s capable of at the moment.
We reach the crescendo together in a joint release, a shared explosion of sensation that obliterates thought and reason. We're left breathless, holding onto each other as if we're an anchor in a stormy sea.
In the aftermath, as our breathing slows and our heartbeats begin to decelerate back to normal, the playful smirk returns to her lips. It's a look of victory, of shared secrets, of a future that's ours to write. She collapses against me, her body a warm, welcome weight, and I wrap my arms around her, never wanting to let go.
The sun spills into the room, highlighting Mariya's every move. As she steps into her panties, I'm caught between the reality of the world outside and concern for our safety, along with an appreciation of the view. She catches me mid-stare, and instead of chastising me, she rewards my impudence with a shimmy of her hips, a silent dare to keep watching.
She laughs under her breath, a teasing lilt in her voice, as she expertly snaps her bra into place. "Enjoying the show?" she asks, her tone dripping with mock annoyance and a hint of flirtation.
I can only nod, a sheepish grin plastered on my face as I reply, "It's the best part of my day so far." My attempt to lighten the mood does little to quell the worry brewing inside me, but her laughter is a melody that momentarily allows me to forget all else.
She slips into her shirt in one fluid motion. I watch with rapt attention, my own clothes feeling like an afterthought compared to the spectacle before me.
"Keep that up, and you might just get a repeat performance," she teases, now fully dressed but for the shoes she's yet to put on. Her words are a playful challenge, a promise of more once we get through the turmoil that's found its way to our doorstep.
The wound in my side bites as I turn, a bitter reminder of the dangers outside of these four walls. I need to focus and get ready for the day ahead.
As Mariya brushes her hair, my phone is pressed to my ear, the silence on the other end echoing ominously. There is no signal. There is nothing but a digital void where my brothers' voices should be. I try again, the frustration mounting with each failed attempt.
"Still nothing?" Mariya asks. I can only shake my head, the worry a tight knot in my gut. Oskar's absence hangs heavy in the air, a mystery that adds an extra layer of tension.
I run a hand through my hair, the strands slipping through my fingers as I try to piece together the puzzle. The bomb—the explosion that should have been lethal, yet miraculously wasn't. No claims of responsibility, no triumphant boasts from either side. It doesn't add up.
"There's something we're not seeing," I mutter, more to myself than to her. "Someone's playing us, and I can't figure out who."
"A third party?" she ventures, her brow furrowed in thought.
"Possibly," I concede, the idea taking root. A third player lurking in the shadows, their motives as hidden as their identity. The thought sends a shiver down my spine. Someone with enough knowledge and power to strike at the heart of the Bratva yet remain unseen.
"We need to be careful," I tell her, my voice low and urgent. "Until we know who we're dealing with, trust no one."
Bullets shatter the calm, embedding into the walls with a terrifying persistence. We're both on the floor in an instant, the recent intimacy shared in the room just moments ago forgotten in the sudden rush of adrenaline.
"Stay down," I bark, a protective drive surging through me as I instinctively move in front of Mariya.
She's quick, though, ducking behind the dresser, her movements graceful yet precise.
Our eyes meet, a silent communication passing between us, and for a moment, the outside world falls away. But then reality crashes back in with the sound of another round piercing the front door.
"What the hell is going on, Damien?" she hisses, her voice a mix of fear and anger. She's no damsel in distress, and the resolve in her eyes tells me she's ready to fight alongside me.
"I don't know," I admit, my mind racing through the possibilities. An attack like this, so bold and direct, reeks of a statement—but from whom?
