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He throws me over his shoulder with a towel draped across my back, and I bounce against him with every stride. He lays me on a bed so soft that it swallows me down into it.
He kneads and lifts my full breasts, then takes one into his mouth. His tongue flicks my nipple, playing my nerves like an instrument. I clamp my thighs together, and he pries them open.
He pushes in and hits resistance. My whole body locks, and a sound leaves me that has nothing to do with pleasure. He goes still above me, and there is no surprise in it at all.
“I know, solnyshko,” he says, very quiet. “I have known since the night you texted the wrong number and begged me to forget it.”
The drunk confession I sent to a stranger rises up in me all at once. In all the chaos of tonight I never once put it together. It was him. It was always him.
“That was you,” I breathe, and he drops his forehead to mine.
“That was me,” he says.
“I’ll be careful with you,” he says. And then he is.
He gentles, like a softer man borrowed his skin for the hour. Slow. Careful. Watching my face for every flicker of emotion.
He kisses me through the sting, easing in by slow inches until the burn finally melts into something else. Pain arrives first, then a deep fullness, then a pull that curls my toes. I feel torn in half and remade in the same breath.
His thighs force me open to take each measured thrust, and I lose my mind entirely.
“Please give me more,” I gasp.
“Tell me what you want.” He bites down lightly on my nipple.
“Make me come.” My voice cracks apart on the words.
“Say my name first.”
“Lev, please, I need your cock, I need to feel you spill your cum inside me.” I have never begged a soul like this. I feel roasted alive from within.
“Good girl, Delaney.” He kisses me and then starts pounding, hard and deep. Every drive of his hips curls my toes. He finds that spot fast, and I shatter almost at once.
“I already finished,” I pant, wrung out. “I cannot take more.”
“I’m nowhere near done with you.”
He lifts me without pulling out and seats me down onto him. He sinks even deeper this way, and I brace both hands on his chest.
“It’s too much,” I protest, trying to rise off him.
He grabs my ass and slams me back down onto him. All I can do is curse as he drives up into me fast and merciless. I come apart a second time around him.
He finally releases deep inside me, flooding me until being filled makes me shake all over. Some distant, sober part of me notes that neither of us said one word about protection.
Everything goes quiet. I collapse onto his chest, and he holds me there a long time before we shower together. My eyes drift shut under the falling water.
In the shower he notices the faint streak of blood on my thigh and washes it away himself, slow and thorough.
“I’ll be the only one who ever has this,” he says, rough and low.
I’m far too wrecked to argue with him.
Half awake, I feel myself lifted from the water, and then I sink into something soft and vanish into sleep.
The next thing I know, I wake in bright daylight. Everything in the room looks beautiful except my aching body. Sunshine pours through the curtains in warm ribbons. The rest of me feels run over by a truck.
My phone is stuffed with messages, most of them from Milo.
