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“Stas…” he cried out, fingers digging into the sheets. There was a desperate edge to his voice that churned something deep within me. I moved closer, shifting my attention back to his throbbing cock, teasing him with an agonizingly slow rhythm.

“God… Stas…” he panted, eyes screwed shut and face flushed. His strain was my pleasure, knowing I was the one unraveling him, the one driving him wild.

He was always so fiercely dominant, so guarded, even in sex. But now, he was giving himself completely to me, surrendering control, surrendering himself, with a trust that humbled me. I wanted to deserve that trust. I wanted to cherish it, to nurture it, not just in this moment but in every single one we’d share from now on.

The room filled with every sound of his pleasure, every harsh breath, every low groan, every whispered plea into the quiet air. His skin was hot under my touch, and from the corner of my eye, I saw his chest rising and falling rapidly, his abs taut and twitching at every lick and suck.

“Stas,” he gasped my name. “I’m coming.”

He released my hair as though expecting me to pull off him. As if I could. The breadth of Yuriy’s cock stretching my lips, his musk bleeding into my nostrils, the bitter taste of his cum hitting my tongue was like an aphrodisiac, making me hunger for more. I cupped his balls and squeezed. His body jerked, and a rough groan spilled past his lips as he flooded my mouth.

“Fuck.” He pumped his hips, shoving his cum down my throat. I swallowed around him, moaning until only the lasting bitterness of his release was left on my tongue.

“Not bad for a first time.” I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my mouth as I looked at him, boneless, dazed, sprawled across the sheets like someone had pulled the spine right out of him. I leaned down and pressed a slow kiss to the corner of his lips.

He let out a breathless laugh. “No fucking way that was your first time.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You fucking should.” His stomach let out a loud, miserable growl.

“I guess that answers what to do next.” I brushed my thumb over the corner of his mouth. “You slept through the whole day. Let’s get you fed.”

He groaned and flopped an arm over his eyes. “Or you can sit on my face and let me eat.”

I shook my head. “That’s not the kind of sustenance you need right now, but I’ll take you up on it later after we have dinner at a Russian restaurant Yelena suggested.”

He peeked at me from under his arm, suspicion and lingering pleasure blending into something almost boyish. And for a moment, it hit me how young he looked. Not just the sharp cheekbones or the ridiculous eyelashes, but something softer beneath the surface. A flicker of the kid he should’ve been, the one he never got to finish being. The youth he traded away to raise his brother, to survive men twice his size and twice as cruel.

Every now and then, pieces of that stolen boyhood showed through quick, unguarded, painfully human, and it punched straight through my ribs.

“Yelena? Don’t you think it’s weird how she’s practically gleeful about us?”

“Not really.” I stroked my knuckles along his thigh. “She knows I haven’t been in a relationship in forever. Plus she thinks you’re hot. Though I’m not sure how I feel about my daughter noticing that about you.”

“She does?” Yuriy grinned, looking way too pleased with himself.

I scowled at him. “What are you grinning about? We still have Zasha to deal with.”

The smile on his face vanished instantly, and I regretted my words. Zasha was a sore subject, and I should have known better than to bring up his brother.

“Hey.” I nudged his knee gently, making him lower his arm so he had to look at me. “Zasha just needs time. He loves you. He was… out of line. And we’re not letting him ruin this.”

He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders loosening by a fraction.

“Come on.” I rose and offered him my hand. “Let’s hit the shower, clean up, and then I’m taking you out on the date you promised me.”

He slipped his hand into mine without the smallest hesitation. And just like that, he gave me that smile, the one that was trouble and beauty wrapped together, the one that pulled me toward him every damn time.

His smile.

Just for me.

26

STAS

The restaurant Yelena recommended was tucked between a bookstore and a florist, its windows glowing with soft amber light. Painted snowflakes clung to the panes, and a pine wreath hung crookedly on the door, tied with a red ribbon someone had probably redone five times and still gotten wrong.