19. Chapter 19

19

Dimitri

I wake up, disoriented. My eyes snap open, adjusting to the darkness.

What fucking time is it?

A warm body shifts next to me. Wren. Blyat . I shouldn't have brought her here. This place… it's where I come to escape. To be alone.

But here she is, naked and tempting, in my bed. In my private lair.

My cock is already hard . Again. Suka . This woman is like a drug, and I need another hit to get her out of my system.

We've already gone four rounds. Four mind-blowing, earth-shattering rounds. And it's not enough. I need more. One last time to purge her from my blood.

I know I want her again. Need to fuck her one more time. But we're out of condoms. Used the last one hours ago.

I shift, trying to ease the ache. No use. I'm rock-hard and ready to go.

Wren stirs, those green eyes fluttering open. "Mmm… D?" Her voice is husky with sleep.

"Shut up," I growl, but my hand's already trailing down her side, squeezing that perfect ass.

She arches into me, a small moan escaping her lips. "Someone's eager."

I grunt, pulling her closer. The feel of her soft skin against mine is maddening. I need to be inside her again.

"We're out," I mutter, biting her neck hard enough to leave a mark.

"Out of what?" She gasps as I suck on that spot behind her ear.

"Condoms." My voice is rough, frustrated. "Used the last one earlier."

Wren pulls back, her eyes searching mine in the darkness. "Oh." A beat of silence. Then, "Do you have any diseases I should know about?"

I bark out a laugh. "No. You?"

She shakes her head. "Clean as a whistle. And I'm on birth control."

My cock throbs painfully at the implication.

She responds by grinding against me, her wet heat sliding along my length. "Then what are you waiting for, D? Fuck me already."

Blyat. This goddamn woman will fucking finish me."

I flip her onto her stomach, yanking her hips up. She moans, pressing back against me. I line myself up and thrust in hard, no warning, no gentleness.

" Blyat ," I curse, gripping her hips tight enough to bruise. She feels even better like this, hot and tight and perfect.

Wren cries out, her hands fisting in the sheets. "God, D… harder…"

I don't need to be told twice. I start to move, setting a brutal pace. This isn't making love. It's not even fucking. It's animalistic rutting, pure and simple.

The room fills with the sounds of our coupling—skin slapping against skin, breathless moans, muttered curses in English and Russian.

I've never reacted to a woman like this before.

Never wanted someone so badly it consumed me. But this is just physical. It has to be. One last time to get her out of my system.

Wren meets me thrust for thrust, her body moving in perfect sync with mine. She's wild, untamed, a force of nature. And somehow, she wants this as much as I do.

I feel her pussy tightening around me, her breath coming in short gasps. "D… I'm close…"

"Come for me," I growl, reaching around to rub her clit roughly. "Now, Wren."

She shatters with a scream, her body clenching around me like a vise. The sight and feel of her coming undone pushes me over the edge, and I follow her with a roar.

We collapse onto the bed, a tangle of sweaty limbs and heaving chests. For a moment, there's only the sound of our ragged breathing.

Reality starts to creep back in. What the fuck am I doing? This woman… she's dangerous. Not because she could physically harm me but because she makes me feel things I've spent years burying.

I need to kick her out. Tell her this was a mistake. That it can never happen again.

Instead, I find myself pulling her closer, burying my face in her hair. She smells like sex and sweat and something uniquely Wren.

"That was…" She trails off, seemingly at a loss for words.

We lie there in silence, but it's not uncomfortable. It should be, given who we are, what we've done. But it's not.

And that, more than anything, pisses me off. This was supposed to be the last time. To get her out of my system. But as I lie here, breathing in her scent, I know with sickening certainty that I'm more addicted than ever.

Blyat. I'm so fucked.

The words come out of my mouth like a bullet. "Nothing," I growl, my voice rough. "That was nothing but a fuck."

Wren's body tenses for a split second, then relaxes. "Obviously," she replies. She pushes herself away from me, the loss of her warmth like a bucket of ice water. "Just scratching an itch, right?" she says with a grin that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "No need to get all mushy about it."

Something in my chest tightens. It's like coming down from a high only to find the comedown is worse than you anticipated.

I watch as she slides out of bed, her curves catching the faint light from the window. She moves with the grace of a predator, snatching up her clothes from where they're strewn across the floor.

"Bathroom?" she asks, not bothering to look at me.

I jerk my chin toward the door on the left. She nods once, padding across the room. The light flicks on, harsh and unwelcome.

Water runs. I hear her moving around. It's all so… clinical. Like she's done this a hundred times before. Like I'm just another notch on her belt.

The thought shouldn't piss me off. It's exactly what this was supposed to be. What I wanted it to be. So why do I feel like punching something?

I try to focus, to shake off this bullshit feeling. But my body's heavy, drained from our fuck-fest. My eyes are closing despite my efforts to stay alert.

The bathroom door opens, and Wren steps out, fully dressed. She looks… untouchable. Like we didn't just spend hours with our hands all over each other.

She strides over to the coffee table, movements quick and purposeful. Without a word, she snatches up the stacks of cash, stuffing them into her pockets like she's afraid they'll disappear if she doesn't move fast enough.

Wren turns, her eyes meeting mine for a split second. There's something there—a flicker of… something. But it's gone before I can name it.

"Well, that was fun," she says, her voice light and indifferent. "Consider this a thank you fuck , big guy."

I want to say something. To stop her. To… fuck if I know what. But my tongue feels like lead, and before I can spit out the words, she's gone.

The front door slams, the sound echoing through the apartment like a gunshot.

I should get up. Should make sure she's really gone. Should… something. But my body's shutting down.

The last thing I register before sleep drags me under is her scent on my sheets and a feeling in my gut that I refuse to acknowledge.

Suka. This is not how it was supposed to go down.