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Elara’s face is hidden, buried in my chest, eyes closed, long thick lashes sitting atop her cheekbones.

My hands are wrapped around her long silky golden strands as if I slept caressing them and the thought pulls a smile from me.

The urge to touch her is always there. I tug her body closer to mine, a satisfied sigh leaving me as I press a gentle kiss on her shoulder.

I lost all my senses after downing the fifth shot of my vodka, feeling proud of my drunk self for ending up here nonetheless.

The fact that she actually let my drunk arse in her bed?

Yeah…that alone feels like a win.

I’d gladly show up here every night barely coherent, if it meant waking up to such an ethereal view and getting to eat her pussy, fuck I’m never getting sober again.

She’s delicious.

I could eat her all day and then some more.

I land a soft kiss on her forehead. For someone who hasn’t touched a woman outside sex, I’m embarrassingly eager to have my hands on her at all times.

I had her in my bed and didn’t think of fucking her senseless. I’ve slept with her three times, and that’s all I did, literally.

I just ate pussy for the first fucking time and I want to eat it—her—again. I want my lips on her clit, my fingers deep inside her hole, this time with the lights on.

My dick is about to disown me, as I’m always around the object of his—my—desires and give him no pussy. I’m on the verge of having a serious case of blue balls, because her presence never fails to give me a massive hard-on.

I haven’t fucked a girl in years. Not that my dick has shown the slightest interest in an XX chromosome that isn’t hers.

But now, it’s jumpy, angry, almost ready to tear through my pants, and the only action it gets is from my hands in the shower with mere illusion of her and her luscious body.

So, it could be that my dick has come to hate me.

I’ve never been a man governed by emotions and feelings and whatever she’s rising in me cannot do me any good, but fuck it as I’m not ready to let her go yet.

Or ever.

I just got her.

I reach into the pocket of my dress trousers and pull out my phone as it vibrates relentlessly. Endless rows of messages fill the screen, all from Alec. Carefully, I slip Elara’s arms from around me.

Her head rests on my chest; I move with precision replacing it with a pillow and start scrolling through the texts once I’m out of the bed.

My forehead is sweating as I read them and almost rush out. My steps come to a screeching halt, finding a tiny black lace panty discarded on the ground. I pick it up without giving it a thought and hide it in my pockets.

My dick might hate me less if it’s wrapped around my malyshka’s panties.

“I’ll be back soon, baby.” I lean forward, brushing my lips against hers and then another one on her forehead because I cannot help myself.

I leave her house, closing the door behind me with a soft click.

“How is he?” The moment I step inside, the sharp scent of antiseptic hits me. The air feels too clean and too quiet, broken only by the distant hum of machines and the soft shuffle of footsteps.

I find Alec waiting by the entrance for me, and he gives a tight-lipped nod in response.

“I don’t know what the fucker was doing in the middle of the night, jumping in front of a car like that.” He explains shaking his head, more in disappointment than worry.

We talked on the phone while I drove here. The moment I heard Roman had been in an accident, I completely lost my shit.

Alec telling me not to worry only made the panic claw harder at my chest.