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Our mouths meet again, more urgently this time. The world outside fades, the noise, the dangers, everything becomes background noise. For now, it's just the two of us, tangled in a world of our own making, fueled by raw passion and unsaid words. Every brush of skin, every stolen touch, speaks volumes more than any conversation ever could.
In the close confines of the supply closet, the atmosphere thickens with raw tension and pent-up desire. The space is cramped, the air hot and heady with the scent of our mingling colognes. Roman's hands move with a sense of urgency, hiking up my skirt, exposing the smooth skin of my thighs to the cold air. My breath catches, a shiver of anticipation running down my spine. He slips his fingers underneath the waistband of my panties, pulling them down to my knees.
His fingers are rough but gentle, tracing patterns on my flesh, sending electric shocks of pleasure through me. I feel his breath on the back of my neck, hot and ragged. He turns me around with a firm grip; the command in the move makes me crazy, pushing me against the wooden wall of the closet. The rough texture grazes my skin, but it's the least of my concerns. All I can think of is him and the way he's looking at me.
He’s got me pinned against the wall in just the way I want. He takes hold of his cock, pressing it against my pussy. I’m so wet that he glides inside with ease, his front pressing against my ass, his thickness stretching me out in a way that’s by now deliciously familiar. I moan, splaying my palms against the cool wall of the supply closet, my nails pressing against them as he fills me completely.
My moans fill the tiny space, each one escaping my lips with every deft movement of his hands, every whispered promise. His hands on my hips, he drives into me again and again and again, the pleasure building so quickly I can scarcely wrap my head around it.
Roman's mouth finds my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. The sensation has me biting my lower lip, trying to suppress the loud moans threatening to escape. He pulls me closer, my back arching instinctively against him, our bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time. Even through the layers of our clothes, the heat between us is unmistakable. I can feel the orgasm building, the pleasure blending with the adrenaline still remaining in my body from the near-kill.
The reality of our situation, the audacity of our actions, only heightens the thrill. Every stolen touch, every shared secret look, has been leading to this moment. The boundaries we once adhered to are obliterated, replaced by pure, unadulterated need.
His grip tightens on my waist, pulling me even closer, and I can feel the hard evidence of his desire deep inside me. My head tilts back, a soft moan escaping my lips as his name becomes a whispered prayer.
The tension builds, coiling tightly within us, and I can sense we're both on the edge. We move together, two souls lost in a moment of passion and shared longing. Every touch, every whispered word pushes us closer and closer until we both find that sweet release, a crescendo of shared pleasure that leaves us breathless and spent. His warmth fills me, soon dripping down my inner thigh. God, how good it feels.
For a moment, we just stand there, leaning against one another, the weight of our actions slowly sinking in. We've crossed a line, and there's no turning back now.
One thought fills my head as the pleasure ebbs – I need to leave.
I pull my panties back up and adjust myself as quickly as possible, doing my best to not look like I've just been screwed in a supply closet.
“You alright?” Roman asks as he tucks his shirt back in.
Without a word, I’m gone. I hurry out of the closet and rush down the hall, making my way into the lobby and towards the grand front entrance of the hotel. I glance over my shoulder and, sure enough, Roman is hurrying after me.
I ignore him as I step outside, the night air cool against my flushed skin. My footsteps, quick and determined, echo on the sidewalk. I need to put distance between Roman and me, between temptation and duty.
But Roman isn’t willing to let me slip away that easily.
“Valentina!” His voice, a mix of frustration and desperation, halts me in my tracks. He catches up to me, grabbing my arm. His fingers are warm.
I jerk away, the heat of anger burning through me. “What do you want?” My voice is sharp, cutting through the night.
“We need to talk,” he says, his face shadowed, eyes intense.
I don’t need to talk. I need to leave, to disappear, to get as far away from him as possible. But for some reason, my feet remain planted to the ground.
“You don’t understand what’s happening here,” I snap. “You’re playing in a game where you don’t even know the rules.”
He steps closer, his cologne enveloping me. “Then tell me.”
I exhale, frustration bubbling up. “Fine. One conversation, then I’m gone.”
We find ourselves in a secluded corner park. The faint city glow illuminates the old benches and forgotten statues. It's silent, save for the distant hum of the city and the gentle howl of the wind. This place is hidden, shielded from the prying eyes of the world, just like our secrets.
I turn to face him, gathering my courage. “The Chechen mob knows exactly who you are and why you're in St. Petersburg.” I watch as his face turns from confusion to realization. “They’ve been watching you, Roman. They're aware of every move you make.”
His voice comes out hoarse. “And you’re with them.”
I nod, the weight of my confession bearing down on me. “Yes. And they won't hesitate to remove anyone in their way.”
His expression hardens. “Is that why you’ve been with me? To gather intel? Was this all a game to you?”
“No,” I respond, my voice quivering with sincerity. “That wasn't the plan, but things... got complicated. It became personal.”
He scoffs, taking a step back. “So, now what? You’re here to finish the job?”
