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“I’m clean, baby. You can coat my dick in your cum all you want.” A smug grin tugs at his lips. It should be illegal to wear a smile that sweet while saying something so filthy.

“No more running away from me.” He adds.

“No more breaking my door.”

He nods. “No more lying, Elara. I mean it.”

“No more stupid pranks. Or I swear I’ll fuck the first man I find.”

He clenches his jaw and unclenches it, his gaze turns murderous as his free hand moves at an unrecognisable pace, I don’t spot it unless it’s on my throat.

“You wouldn’t.” His shoulders rigid, tension locking into him—worse than when he was with his father—but I don’t stop.

Something reckless rises in me, a dangerous kind of confidence, like I’ve stopped fearing the fall altogether.

I open my mouth, ready to provoke him again, not knowing why he’s getting triggered in the first place, because I’ll soon be discarded nonetheless.

“Try. Me.”

“Don’t test me, solnyshko.”

“You started the game, it’s only fair I finish it.” I shrug. “I already told you, there’s no one but y—”

“And I’m telling you, play stupid pranks like that again and I’ll fuc—”

My smirk turns into a loud gasp as he sinks his teeth in my neck, in the same spot, biting so hard, my vision darkens for a second.

I feel the skin break before the blood trickles down and he sucks it into his mouth.

Sweet mother of God. Why is this so hot?

“You. Wouldn’t.” He tries again.

“Totally would.” “Elara.”

“Sergei.”

His jaw ticks as he contemplates and then lets out a defeated sigh. Triumph curls at the corners of my lips before the words even leave his mouth.

“No more stupid pranks.”

“No more fucking another man.”

“More?” He growls and a laughter bubbles out of my chest at his bewildered expression.

“I’m kidding.” I manage between giggles, but the moment his fingers find my stomach, he starts tickling me. “For the love of God, I’m kidding! Stop it.”

“There’s no other man for you, malyshka.” He says quietly. “I’d strip this world of every last one of them if they so much as looked at you.”

And my stupid, traitorous butterflies flutter anyway.

As if they don’t understand that his possessiveness isn’t love. That one day this obsession will burn itself out, and I’ll be left standing in the ashes of it.

Yet my stomach still twists like he’s said something romantic.

Fucking. Stupid. Butterflies.

I purse my lips stopping myself before I blurt out something like; you’d do that for me?