42. Chapter 42

42

Dimitri

B lyat , this night's gone off the fucking rails.

One minute, I'm checking if she's okay; the next, I'm balls-deep in her tight cunt.

Suka , I've never felt anything like this. It's not just about getting off.

I've always been a one-and-done kind of guy. No strings, no attachments, no complications. But with Wren, it's different. My body's practically addicted to her, like a cokehead jonesing for his next fix. And this is what? Our fourth time now? Blyat. Fucking the same woman again and again?

Our lips crash together; no fucking around. She runs her hands over my chest, nails digging in like she's branding me. Our tongues tangle like two snakes in a pit, our moans mingling with the sound of our flesh slapping together as I pound her dripping cunt.

"Yesssss, that's it!"

" Ty takaya trenira , Wren!" I growl, my voice raw with lust as I plunge my thick cock in and out of her soaking wet cunt.

"Harder, D. Fuck me harder."

"You want it hard, I'll give it to you hard." Her moans are music to my ears, her hips bucking up to meet my every thrust, her perfect tits bouncing with each slam of my hips against hers.

"Fuck, you're so good, Wren," I say, my hand wrapping around her neck, squeezing just enough to make her gasp and moan louder. "You like it rough, don't you?"

"Fuck, yes," she gasps. Her eyes snap open, those long lashes framing a gaze that burns right through me. Lips parted, panting. Chest rising and falling like she's just run a fucking marathon.

Blyat . The way she's looking at me… It's like she's staring straight into my black soul and fucking loving it.

Most suki can't handle this shit. But Wren? She's got a fire in her, a wildness that matches my own.

I keep my gaze locked on hers, my eyes dark and intense. I can feel the power in that gaze, the dominance. Like I'm making sure she knows that she's mine, that I own this fucking moment. And as I drive myself deeper inside her, it's Wren. All of her. And yob tvoyu mat ', I want every fucking piece.

We're tangled up in silk sheets, the king-size bed barely creaking under us. My penthouse stretches out around us, all sleek lines and floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights flicker below, but I couldn't give less of a fuck about the view right now.

An hour ago, my phone buzzed as I was getting into my Bentley. Wren's voice, low and urgent: "I want you to fuck me tonight."

And here we are. Again. Her nails digging into my back, her breath hot on my neck.

"D," she gasps, and fuck me if it isn't the sweetest sound I've ever heard. "Fill my pussy with that thick, throbbing cock of yours! Make me scream, D!"

"Fuck, Wren," I groan, my voice low and guttural. "You're such a filthy little slut."

She moans in response.

My fingers dig into her flesh, my nails biting into her neck as I grip tighter, choking off her air. Her face flushes red, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and desire as I pound into her, my cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside her. Her cunt clamps down on my cock, milking me, driving me closer to the edge. Her gasps become strangled moans, each one a desperate plea for more.

"You want my cum, baby? You gonna beg for it?"

She's grinding against me like she's trying to rub me raw, her cunt clenching tight as a vice around my cock. I groan, my hands gripping her hips, and drive into her hard, like I'm trying to claim her soul with every thrust. She lets out a low, throaty moan, her nails digging into my skin.

I spread her wide open, exposing her to me fully, then lean down to nibble and bite at her neck, my teeth leaving their mark.

"Harder," she moans, wrapping her legs around my waist and pulling me deeper. "Fuck, I'm coming."

I'm edging closer, my balls tightening, ready to explode.

Not so soon.

I take a deep, steadying breath and slow my thrusting, focusing on her rhythm, syncing my movements to hers. As she trembles on the edge, her face contorting with pleasure, biting her lip, her gaze locked onto mine, I can feel the bed shaking beneath us, trembling under our weight. But we don't care. This bed was made for us.

With a growl, I feel her walls spasm around my cock, her cunt milking me as she cums, her orgasm shuddering through her body like a storm.

Without letting her catch her breath, I resume my thrusting, harder, faster, hitting all the right spots. Moving to my knees, I slide one hand between us, rubbing her clit in hard, fast circles while the other hand grips her hips, lifting her up to meet my every stroke.

"Fuck, D! Fuck!" she screams, her body spasming, her nails raking down my back. "I'm gonna cum again!"

"Cum with me, Wren!" I growl, my voice low and guttural. "Cum with me, you filthy slut." Her eyes roll back in her head as she falls over the edge, her body shaking with orgasmic bliss. As her walls flutter around my cock, I can't hold back any longer. With one final thrust, I slam into her, groaning as my cum fills her up.

I jolt awake, my hand already reaching for the gun under my pillow before my eyes are fully open. But something's off. There's a weight on my chest, warm and soft. A scent hits me—sweat and sex and cheap shampoo. Wren.

Yob tvoyu mat '.

I blink, trying to clear the fog from my brain. Sunlight's streaming through the gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across the tangled sheets. Wren's sprawled half on top of me, her wild dark hair tickling my chin. She's out cold, her face smooshed against my chest, drooling a little.

It should be fucking disgusting. It's not.

I can't remember the last time I slept this deep. Usually, I'm up at the crack of dawn, restless and ready to move. But now? I feel… calm. It's unsettling as hell.

Wren shifts in her sleep, mumbling something I can't make out. Her leg slides between mine, and suddenly, I'm very aware that we're both naked.

My cock twitches, and I grit my teeth. Fuck. This wasn't supposed to happen. One time, maybe two—that I could write off. But four? And now this?

I should get up. Should wake her up and kick her out. But I don't move. Instead, I find myself tracing the line of her spine with my fingertips, feeling her shiver in her sleep.

"Mmm," she murmurs, nuzzling closer. Her eyes flutter open, unfocused and sleepy. For a second, she looks… soft. Vulnerable. Then awareness hits, and I see the walls slam back up.

"Shit," she mutters, pushing herself up. She winces, and I remember how rough we got last night. "What time is it?"

I shrug, not bothering to check. "Late. Early. Who gives a fuck?"

Wren sits up, the sheet falling away. I can't help but stare. Her skin's marked up—bruises from my fingers on her hips, a bite mark on her shoulder.

She catches my gaze and gives me a coy smirk. "Enjoying the view, hulk?"

I grunt, sitting up and stretching my arms over my head, the muscles in my shoulders and arms flexing under my skin. "Trying to boost my ego, kotyonok ?" I ask, a smirk of my own tugging at my lips.

Wren rolls her eyes, but I can see the flush creeping up her neck. "Please. Like your ego needs stroking. It's like a goddamn horse."

I reach out, running a thumb over that bite mark. "Looks like I did enough stroking last night."

Wren shivers, then pulls away. She starts gathering her clothes, scattered across the floor like fucking confetti. I watch her, not bothering to hide it. She's all lean muscle and curves, moving with a grace that comes from years of training.

"You want coffee?" I hear myself ask.

What the fuck am I doing?

Wren freezes mid-motion, her hand clutching her bra. I hear her suck in a sharp breath, holding it for a beat too long. Then she's moving again, snapping the clasp shut with more force than necessary.

She yanks her shirt over her head, then perches on the edge of the bed. There's a fucking chasm between us now, more than just the rumpled sheets.

"It's better we don't do coffee… or pizza ," she mutters, not meeting my eyes. "Or anything else."

I run a hand through my hair, frustration coiling in my gut. "What, afraid you might actually enjoy yourself , printsessa ?"

Wren's head snaps up, her eyes flashing. "Fuck you, D. This isn't—"

She cuts off, her gaze landing on the clock on my nightstand. " Shit! Is that the fucking time?"

I glance over. 8:35 AM.

"Fuckballs!" Wren hisses, scrambling off the bed. She nearly faceplants, trying to yank on her jeans. "Joe's gonna have my ass for this. Third time this week!"

I watch her hop around, cursing up a storm as she fights with her boots. "You could always quit that shithole," I offer, leaning back against the headboard.

Wren shoots me a glare that could strip paint. "Some of us have bills to pay, asshole."

She grabs her bag, shoving her phone inside. Her hair's a mess, her shirt's inside out, and there's a hickey peeking out from her collar. She looks thoroughly fucked, and something primal in me growls in satisfaction.

Wren pauses at the bedroom door, her hand on the knob. For a second, I think she might say something. But then she's gone, the front door slamming shut behind her.

I flop back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The sheets still smell like her, like us.