I watched her hand wrapped around me, her gaze locked on mine with that smug, sexy confidence that drove me insane.She was stroking me like she owned me, and maybe she did—because fuck, I couldn’t stop wanting her. I groaned, deep andraw, and kissed her like I needed her to breathe. She moaned into my mouth, lifting her leg to pull me closer.
Still kissing me, she shifted her hips and eased herself down onto my cock again. The heat of her, the tightness—it hit me like a drug. I’d never get tired of sinking into that perfect little cunt.
“I’d be honored to carry your fucked-up offspring,” she whispered, breath hitching as I filled her.
The way her walls clenched, desperate and soaked, sent fire through my veins. I buried myself deeper, fucking her with brutal, punishing strokes until she cried out and came all over my cock, legs shaking. Her voice cracked as she begged for me to come inside her. But I pulled out at the last possible second, groaning through gritted teeth as I came all over her smooth stomach. She might’ve been drunk on cock and craving every drop, but no matter how far gone she was, getting her pregnant was not an option.
We collapsed in a tangle of limbs, both of us breathless and wrecked. I reached for the same towel and wiped her down again. She was too fucked-out to say anything, just moaned softly and curled into me. I tossed the towel aside, wrapped my arms around her, and pulled her close, spooning her tightly. My face nuzzled into her neck, breathing in her scent, and I let her slow, steady breaths lull me to sleep.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t leave after sex. I didn’t make up an excuse or slip out the door. I wanted to stay. To protect her. To fall asleep with her body pressed to mine and wake up knowing she was still there.
I woke suddenly from a nightmare—courtesy of my dear father—but I stayed perfectly still, careful not to wake her. She was still asleep, her body instinctively rubbing against me, her soft curves pressed to my front under the warm blanket. One of my arms was tucked beneath her neck, the other draped over her waist.
I groaned, half in pleasure, half in disbelief. This was the best fucking torture I’d ever felt.
She made a soft sound, like a sigh tangled with a dream, then pressed her ass back against me with a slow grind. My cock twitched, already painfully hard, and I tensed,ready to pull away before instinct took over and I fucked her right there in her sleep.
But then her voice cut through the haze, sleepy and amused.“I can’t believe I spent the night cuddling the Reaper.”
I smirked against her hair. “You take that secret to your grave, Malaya.”
She shifted onto her back, and I turned her fully to face me. I cupped her cheek, letting my thumb brush along her jaw.
“I hated the way Felix was banging on your door last night. I’m not letting you spend another night alone in this room. Not while he’s in this house.”
She blinked up at me, a slow, pleased smile tugging at her lips. “Hmm. Does that mean you’ll be staying here every night now?”
“If you’ll have me,” I said. “I’ll endure the endless cuddles. All in the name of your safety, of course.”
“Oh no, risking your precious reputation.”
“Yeah, yeah, reputation ruined. Now shut up and let me fuck you one more time.”
20
Possession Games
—Kira—
Ihadn’t brought a knife to bed in over two weeks.
That was saying something.
For the first time since Felix moved in, I didn’t fall asleep clutching something sharp under my pillow. I didn’t lie awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I’d hear footsteps outside my door. I didn’t tense at every sound, every creak in the walls.
Because Maksym came. Every night. My beautiful, terrifying Reaper.
He climbed into bed like he belonged there—cigarette smoke still clinging to his hair, heat radiating off his skin. He pulledme close, pressed his mouth to my neck, and held me like he’d been missing me all day. I didn’t have to ask. He just came. And somehow, with him beside me, I slept like I hadn’t in years.
But safety didn’t mean silence.
Felix came to my room a few more times.
He had perfect timing. Always when Maksym and I were mid-fuck, tangled in sheets and heat.Felix would rattle the doorknob, bang a few times, then pause—long enough to let his voice slither through the crack.
“I brought milk for my little girl,” he said, like we were playing some sick fantasy. Another time: “Still touching yourself, sweetheart? That’s for your husband, not your fingers.”
It made my skin itch like poison.
