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“Swear it to me, Yuriy. I’ll give you anything you want. Just be mine alone.”

I slipped my fingers into his hair and pulled his head back. Stas went still. His eyes found mine, and for a second, everything in him was laid bare—no control, no pride. His gaze searched my face like he was trying to read his future there, like whatever I said next would either steady him or break him completely.

I wanted to say something smartass, but I could only manage a nod and a croaked, “Alright.” Releasing his hair, I ran my hand down his neck, and down the solid wall of his chest. “Are you ready to come for me?”

“Yes.”

“Then rub your pathetic little clit for me and come.”

He reached between us and moaned, eyes rolling back inside his head. His breathing turned shallow, and the veins in his neck bulged. I watched with bated breath, the sight of him shattering, cum splashing against my abs sending molten heat spiraling down my own spine.

“Fucking... hell—” A muffled curse left me. I bucked up hard and exploded inside him with a raw, guttural roar that shook my core.

Stas lay sprawled over me, still trembling, breath evening out against my throat. I brushed a hand down his spine, lazy and smug, enjoying the way every muscle beneath my palm softened like he was made for my touch.

He huffed a laugh into my neck, low and disbelieving. “I can’t believe after that I still want you.”

I snorted. “You’re welcome.”

He lifted his head an inch. “For what?”

“For helping you discover the sheer power of your prostate.” I smirked, tapping his hip. “It’s not every day I give a man such a religious experience.”

He groaned. “You’ve turned me into a shameless slut, that’s what. I can’t believe I was sulking because you didn’t come to me tonight.”

“Sorry about that.” I tipped my head back. “But it all worked out. And if you really want to go again, give me an hour.”

Stas’s brows shot up. “An hour? You can recover that fast?”

I gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Please. My dick has excellent stamina. Genetics, training, the will of god—take your pick.”

“Arrogant bastard.”

“Correct,” I said.

He stared at me, that stormy look in his eyes darkening again, but not with the anger I’d come to expect from him over the past decade. Something deeper. Something possessive enough to curl heat low in my gut.

Then he leaned down and sank his teeth into my shoulder.

Hard.

I hissed through my teeth. “Fuck! Stas, you already bit my neck.”

He didn’t apologize. Didn’t ease up. He bit down until pleasure and pain blurred, then lifted his head, grabbed my jaw in his big hand, and forced me to look at him.

“Mine,” he said, voice rough, raw, unguarded.

My heart punched once, hard and stupid. I rolled my eyes because that was safer than letting him see the way those words hit me. “Yes, yes,” I drawled, waving a hand lazily, even as my chest ached. “I’m yours. Congratulations.”

But inside? Inside, I was swallowing down the stupidest, warmest rush of something that felt suspiciously like joy.

He stroked the bruise on my shoulder with his thumb, almost gently, as if sealing the declaration. And I let him because it felt good. Because for the first time in years, I didn’t want to belong to anyone else.

22

STAS

Steam curled around us, thick and hot, fogging the glass while Yuriy rinsed the last of the shampoo from my hair. We’d hopped into the shower to wash off the scent of our sex from last night, but I never expected what had just come out of his mouth.