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Matilda stares up at me with that wild hair and those stunning eyes, the little star on her cheek a dark mark drawing me in, and she says: “I want you to show me what you’re capable of.”

It’s impossible to mistake what she’s asking for.

Love.

We were talking of love, and as she lies there with her chest heaving and her bare feet, I can see her trying to puzzle out how a man like me could possibly…

So I decide to show her.

Gently, I take hold of her sweatpants and pull them down her legs, tossing them to the side. Her ankle in my hand feels delicate.

“You know,” I murmur mindlessly, my lips against her calf, “I’d do anything for you, Matilda. Anything to protect you. Anything to make you feel safe.”

The tremor that goes through her body reaches my fingertips as I press kisses higher. My other hand runs slowly up her other leg, hooking just behind her knee. The further I go, the more gently I press her legs apart, and this time she’s not resisting me at all. Not like the morning in my bedroom when I couldn’t stop myself from going down on her and she tried not to let me, giving in eventually.

No, this time Matilda gives all of herself to me.

I reach her core, covered by simple black cotton underwear, and she smells sweet and clean. An innocent smell that wakes the beast in me.

My fingers dig into her thighs hard enough for her to gasp as I press my mouth to her pussy.

It’s hot and wet when I press my tongue to her underwear and bury my face against her lower belly, reaching up to massage her breasts.

“Vasily…” she half-gasps, half-whines, squirming under my hands.

That gets my attention. I sit up, pulling away and smirking at the very real and whole whine she lets out now.

Matilda is propped up on her elbows, giving me a look that would freeze most of the men I deal with in the Workshop. I strip off my shirt and belt, then the trousers, then my boxers, standing completely bare and hard and wanting before her.

I want her to see all of it. How desperate I am for her.

How devoted I am to her.

“If you were mine,” I tell her, climbing back onto the bed and over her body, “the things I’d do to you, Matilda, to let you know it, every night.”

She reaches up, holding my face with her thumbs rubbing along my stubble, and kisses me hot and wet.

It takes everything in me not to buck against her. To drive her into the mattress, fuck her until I can’t see, until all I can feel is her.

Instead, I do what I promised: I focus on showing her.

My fingers hook into her underwear as we kiss, and I draw them down her legs. Sink two fingers into her easily, holding them there, letting her move against me with a desperate moan. Matilda fucks herself on my hand and I pull back to watch. My thumb grazes her nipple, over and over, lightly enough to drive her mad until she’s shaking under me.

Then I pull my hand away and hold her hips down.

“Not yet. I want to watch you when you come apart.”

She looks angry, caught off guard, and blown-out all at once. Her body is like clay under my touch as I drag her closer and ruck her shirt up. When her breasts are exposed, I lean down and lap at them, unevenly and lazily until she’s all worked up again.

Then I pull back.

I tease her with my fingers again; a slow drag of fingertips through her soaked folds, low pressure on her clit until she shivers.

Sitting back on my haunches, I line my cock up carefully and press into her.

Slowly.

Watching as she stretches around me, takes me, her body trembling under my hands.