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Completely.

The need in his voice ripped through the last of my restraint.

“Come with me,” I rasped. “Come on me. Take me with you, gryáznaya dévochka… come.”

He shattered.

His whole body stuttered, his rhythm faltering as pleasure overtook him in a trembling wave. He gasped, head thrown back, skirt slipping higher as he tightened his thighs around my hips.

The sight of him coming undone on me—on my cock—dragged me over the edge.

Heat roared through me, white-hot and overwhelming, and my vision blurred as I thrust up into him one final time. He rode it out, clinging to me, our breaths tangled, our bodies shaking in the same rhythm until everything broke open and spilled into silence.

Slowly, slowly, he slumped back against me, his back pressed to my chest, his body shaking. I lowered my face to nuzzle the side of his neck, inhaling sweat and Stas and everything I’d missed these past two weeks.

He shifted, and the skirt fell soft as a sigh against my legs.

“I missed you,” I said against his salty skin.

“I missed you more,” he said with a sigh. “I know I should untie you, but I want you to be inside me a little longer.”

“It’s okay.” The tie had loosened with all my straining, and since the game was over, I quickly freed my hands from behind me. His body twitched as I slid my hands up his sides and reached around to his front. I traced the lines of muscles along his abs.

“Would you consider getting this pierced for me?” I played with his belly button.

He sucked in a deep breath and laughed, the sound tired and incredulous. “Are you seriously asking me to pierce my belly button just for your viewing pleasure? Isn’t that a bit too slutty?”

“Hmm. I think it’ll look sexy.” I placed a kiss on his neck. “It’d be just for me, and no one else would be allowed to see it.”

“Hmm.”

“Think about it. Have I been wrong yet? The skirt—” I dipped below to tenderly cup his dick. “Calling this a clit.”

He turned his head and kissed me. I smiled against his lips. “Is that a yes?”

“How would I even get it done? I don’t go anywhere alone.”

“You’ll find a way.” I took his hand and smoothed my fingers over the tattoo on the side of his index finger that hadn’t been there before we met. Inked in the same place on both our fingers were our initials in Cyrillic. “Just as we found a way to do these.”

It had taken precision, patience, and proper planning, but we’d finally arranged for a tattoo artist to slip into Stas’s residence under the cover of night. The one time I’d ever stepped inside his home—enemy territory, technically—only to sit at his dining table while we got matching ink like two men who weren’t risking everything just by breathing the same air.

“I’ll give it some thought,” he said, but I knew he would do it anyway.

Stas laced his fingers through mine and squeezed. “Can you get away for travel? The kids wants us to visit but we can go somewhere else first.”

“Travel? Where? You finally taking me to Europe?”

“You want to go to Europe?” He turned fully toward me, brows raised. “Seriously?”

“Just kidding.” I shrugged lightly. “I’d go anywhere, honestly. Just to get away with you for a while and not have to hide us.”

A small frown carved itself between his brows, that familiar look he got whenever he was turning something over and over in his mind. “Yuriy⁠—”

“I’m fine with the way things are, Stas,” I said before he could ruin the moment. “We have our little pockets of time together. I live for them.”

It hurt—of course it hurt—to go days, sometimes weeks, without seeing him. To pretend we were nothing when we were everything. But I had accepted it, the way a man accepted the weight of a crown or a wound that never quite healed. I could’ve moved on, found someone new, someone uncomplicated.

But no one else was Stas.