20. Sasha

CHAPTER 20

SASHA

A right old mess of emotions churns within me as I stand in the dim corridor of the hotel Logan picked for us. It was the spur of the moment after the boat ride. The moment of lingering stares and discreet hand-touching on the way to the car. The moment that led us to making this nerve-racking decision. The moment that brought us to this room’s door.

Logan's intense gray eyes bore into mine as if he’s still looking for confirmation that I want this. Bloody hell, I want this more than he can imagine. I’d never been allowed to choose anything in my life. And finally being able to do so… God, it’s a gut-clenching feeling of freedom. Almost as if I'm a kid again, about to snatch a forbidden candy from a high shelf at my aunt’s house back in Piter, knowing full well the consequences if caught.

Fear and anticipation vie for dominance inside me, their dance making my heart race.

"There's no going back, Sasha," Logan warns.

"Going back isn’t what I want," I reply. "Isn’t it time to move forward?"

"Good." With a soft click, he slides the key card into the lock and pushes the door open.

I linger on the threshold before taking a step into the room. Logan follows behind me, shutting the door. Immediately, the world outside fades away, leaving only Logan and me in this unfamiliar space. Space we’re going to mark as our own. At least for tonight. Hopefully .

It's a nice hotel and the room is clean and generously sized from what I can tell in the darkness. I'm grateful we are not doing it in some questionable low-cost place. Not that I thought Logan would go for anything less than classy. He doesn't seem like that kind of man.

My body hums with anticipation, each beat of my heart echoing in my ears like drums calling us to some ancient ritual.

"Are you sure?" Logan asks, his eyes still searching mine for any hint of doubt. He turns on a single lamp in the corner, just enough light to be able to see each other. He stands close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him, enveloping me in its warmth and its masculine scent. Something common and at the same time rare—musk and suede and maybe a bit of burnt sand because he’s like the desert himself. Once you’re lost in him, you can’t find your way back anymore.

"More than anything," I murmur, the truth of my need resonating deep in me.

The unspoken desire that fills the air between us is an electric charge, connecting our beings, making them one.

"Let me," I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I reach for the hem of Logan's T-shirt. He nods, his eyes never leaving mine as I peel the fabric up and over his head, revealing the intricate network of tattoos that adorn his muscular torso. As the tee falls to the floor, my fingertips trace a tentative path along his fully inked arm, following the lines from his wrist up and over the curve of his shoulder.

"They are beautiful," I murmur, unable to tear my gaze away from the dark patterns against his tanned skin. When I finally look up, meeting Logan’s eyes once more, he’s staring at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time. And maybe he does. Because he sees the real me, no secrets hiding within.

I lift up my hand and my fingers hover over the crescent-shaped scar at his temple, careful not to touch it but curious all the same.

"Day on patrol gone bad," he comments. "Some asshole cut me."

"Had to get stitches?"

He nods slightly. "Double digits, yeah." Pause. Then Logan cups my hand with his and presses it up against the scar, leaning into the touch. The gesture is so against everything I’ve known about him so far. It’s so vulnerable that it undoes me. I want to make this sad look in his eyes go away.

"Your turn," Logan finally says, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He removes his hand from mine and finds the bottom of my shirt, and with surprising tenderness, lifts it over my head. I feel exposed under his stare, but the growing hunger in it has me forgetting about any kind of self-awareness.

"Soft." He skims his calloused fingers over my chest, making me shudder with each featherlight contact. "Soft and innocent."

"Hardly." I chuckle, the sound brittle and unsure. A little white lie. "But I suppose you'll be the judge of that."

"Indeed, I will." Logan's voice is deep, commanding, and yet gentle enough to stoke the fires in me.

He leans in and our lips meet, our mouths fusing together in a familiar dance of raw need. His tongue slips in to tease mine, and I lose myself in the taste of him and the urgency of this connection my body and mind crave.

"Will you teach me?" I breathe in his ear when we both eventually come up for air. My fingers fumble clumsily with the belt buckle and then the zipper of his jeans. "Will you show me what you want?"

"If you trust me, mylash ," Logan says against the side of my neck, kicking off his sneakers as I work his jeans down his thighs.

"You speak Russian now?" I whisper a surprised question, referring to his sudden use of a term of endearment in my native tongue.

"I don’t," he admits. "But I looked it up. I thought you’d like it."

I’m rendered speechless for a moment. No one’s ever called me a word this tender in my own language. Not in this context at least. And it feels strange, like something’s awoken in me, something wild, something that’s been buried deep inside for the longest time.

"There are other words too," Logan supplies with a bit of trepidation in his voice. " Zayka, kotyonok —"

I place my palm over his mouth, shaking my head. "Jesus Christ, no. I don’t want to be a pet. Mylash is fine."

His hands are on me then, brushing the sensitive skin of my sides before unbuckling my belt and drawing my pants down.

"Your body is a damn masterpiece," he tells me, his voice husky and certain. "And I plan on savoring every inch of it eventually. If you let me."

"Do you even have to ask?"

"We’re in dangerous waters here." He chuckles softly. "I have to make sure what we do is what we both want if we’re taking this risk."

"This is what I want, yes. To do things to you. And with you."

"Fine by me." He claims my lips again, this time roughly, as if he’s just as starved as I am. Starved for something new and unknown.

As the rest of our clothes fall away and our bodies press together, our kisses grow more heated, more desperate. Whatever's outside these walls has vanished entirely. There’s no Vlad and no Solovey last name with its cursed legacy. There are only the two of us, bound by our hunger for one another and the knowledge that what we share is forbidden yet utterly intoxicating.

We kiss and we touch each other for what seems like forever, lips biting and sucking and grabbing. Hands sliding up and down hard chests and smooth backs. Fingers tip-toeing along the subtle curves of our thighs and ass cheeks while our dicks harden and press up together between our buzzing bodies.

We kiss until our mouths are tired and our lips are swollen, until our lungs are so famished for oxygen that we must stop, must breathe for a second not to die.

And in this instant, as I stand completely naked before Logan, I dare to ask, "What's next?"

"Whatever you want to learn, mylash ," Logan replies. And just like that, I find myself entranced by the sweet allure of his words, by the promise they hold.

"I want to learn how to please you." I reach for him. My fingers wrap around his cock. The feel of him in my hand—hard and thick—sends a jolt of excitement through me, an electric charge that ignites the fire within.

"Okay." Logan nudges us toward the bed, running his finger from my chest down to my crotch and lingering there for a bit before he sits on the bed’s edge and beckons me closer. "Get on your knees," he commands softly, his voice laced with authority.

A shudder courses through me and the thrill of submission makes my heart race even faster.

I've never felt this way before–so unguarded and yet so eager to surrender.

Even the bloody family name and its call to remain standing because we simply don’t bend for anyone doesn’t have any hold on me anymore.

I sink to my knees, my eyes never leaving Logan's.

"Take it," he orders. "Carefully. Try it out."

I do as he says. I take his cock in my hand and begin to stroke him slowly. That much I know. I've seen enough videos and jerked off to them a gazillion times. I'd like to think I've perfected the hand job by now.

Logan watches me with hooded eyes, his breathing growing heavier with each pass of my fingers.

"Good boy," he rasps out. "You already are great at this."

His praise makes my want stronger. "So you like it?"

"Very much."

I bite into my bottom lip to hide my smile, my hands continue working his cock.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Logan asks, a hint of concern coloring his tone.

"Yes," I reply, my own breath hitching.

"Give it a kiss."

I lean forward, my lips brushing against the head of his cock first. He lets out a barely discernable gasp. Like he's trying to hide it from me. The taste of him hits me immediately. It’s a heady mix of salt and musk that makes my mouth water.

"Then open wide and take me in," Logan instructs next, his voice thick.

With a shuddering breath, I put my hands on his thighs and part my lips, then envelop him, sucking him into the warm, wet embrace of my mouth. His size is intimidating, but I am determined to please him, to show him that I can be the lover he deserves.

"Such an obedient boy," Logan praises me again, his hand coming to rest on my head. "Now, don't forget about my balls."

I cup them gently, caressing their weight as I continue to slowly work my mouth over him, my tongue exploring every ridge and vein. The sounds of our pleasure—my eager throaty moans and his satisfied groans–fill the room.

"Keep going, mylash ," Logan urges. "You're doing so well."

My heart swells with pride at his compliment, and I redouble my efforts, desperate to prove myself worthy of his affection.

His breath catches as I take him deeper. The sensation is overwhelming and my heart pounds in my chest while the mixture of fear and desire swirl somewhere at the base of my spine.

"Take me a little more, Sasha. Take me all the way," Logan chants. His hand grips the back of my head, guiding me. The thickness of his cock stretches my throat, and I choke, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

"Easy, easy. Breathe," he soothes, loosening his clutch slightly, allowing me to regain control. "We can stop anytime if it's too much."

Unable to speak but determined, I shake my head. I want this. And with that, I resume my task, taking him deeper still, pushing through the discomfort until I find a rhythm that pleases us both.

"My sweet, good boy," he keeps on praising, the warmth in his voice making my dick painfully hard. "Such a skillful, obedient mylash ."

The sensations surging through me are overwhelming—my cock aching for release, my arsehole clenching in anticipation of something I don't know, every inch of my skin tingling with need. I'm close, swaying on the edge of ecstasy, but I don't want this moment to end. I want this moment to last a lifetime. I want to keep listening to Logan’s gasps as I deepthroat him, as I milk his massive cock dry. I want to keep feeling him invading my body in the most dirty, most intimate ways.

"Can I come in your mouth, baby?" Logan grunts out, his voice strained with pleasure. He shifts his hips a little meeting my sucking.

I nod, unable to talk as I continue to worship his dick. He moves faster, fucking my face with a savage rhythm.

"Touch yourself," he orders. "Make it rain for me."

I wrap my hand around my throbbing cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. It takes only a few strokes before I'm hurtling toward the edge, my entire body shuddering as I surrender to the bliss.

"Yes, that's right. Come for me," Logan growls, his movements growing erratic as he nears his own climax. And with a final, desperate guttural sound, I do. My release spills over my hand in thick, hot ribbons.

Logan follows suit. His entire body is jerking while his cum is filling my mouth, sweet and sour and warm like fresh milk. I choke on the fluid, some of it escaping down my chin and onto my chest. He pulls out, his breathing heavy and labored; eyes dark with satisfaction when I glance up at him through my lashes, wanting to make sure what I did was good.

"Fucking beautiful," he whispers, tracing a finger along the trail of cum on my chin.

It’s too much, I realize.

My head drops between his thighs, tears streaming from my eyes—not just from the intensity of the experience but from the feeling of fulfillment that I've never known before.

My chest heaves, each inhale a true struggle. I can hear Logan's own ragged breathing as he reaches out to grab a napkin from the holder on the nightstand. He cradles my chin and wipes leftovers of the cum from my face with tenderness that’s the exact opposite of what we did a few minutes ago. He discards the napkin and skims his fingers through my hair, whispering soothing words. We remain like this for a while with me sitting between his legs, on the floor, naked, until our bodies and minds settle and until we’re able to move to lie on the bed.

The room seems to glow with light that has nothing to do with the single flickering lamp.

"Are you okay?" Logan asks softly after a while, his voice a blend of concern and affection.

"Far from okay," I admit, the words catching in my throat. "I've never come so hard in my life."

Logan lets out a soft chuckle, his body shaking with it. "Was it too much for you?"

"Are you kidding?" I laugh, the sound brittle from all the face-fucking, brittle but genuine. "I want more."

"Later," he promises, his lips brushing against my forehead. "Right now, we need to rest."

We get under the blankets, our bodies still entangled like vines around the old castle. My head rests on Logan's chest and I listen to his heartbeat, a steady drumbeat that lulls me into a sense of peace I've never experienced before.

As sleep begins to claim me, my mind fills with dreams of a future where I can be free to see Logan openly. I cling to that hope that together, we can conquer the darkness that surrounds us, banishing the shadows of fear and doubt that have haunted me for so long.

My eyes flutter open and I scan my surroundings. The first light of morning seeps around the edges of the heavy curtains, creating a yellow glow across the room. My heart slams against my rib cage as panic begins to course through my bloodstream. I become acutely aware of the danger I've put Logan and myself in.

I didn’t mean to sleep through the night. I was supposed to return home to make sure Ivan or Vlad’s goons wouldn’t report my absence to him.

I fucked up.

"Shit!" The curse escapes me in a breathless whisper, barely audible above the pounding in my chest.

I push myself off the pillow and glance down at Logan’s body sprawled on the bed next to mine. For a second, the image of him, all ink and muscle and masculinity has me forgetting about the consequences, but then this daze is over quickly. There’s no time for it. Not now.

Carefully, I sling my legs over the bed’s edge and survey the room for my phone. It’s on the floor, next to the heap of clothes. I grab it with the intention of turning the silent mode off. But the phone's screen is lit up with missed calls and messages from Vlad. The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me he’s aware I'm not at home, and I start to wonder if he knows where I am and who I'm with.

"Logan." I nudge him gently, unable to tear my eyes away from the frantic texts that scream for my attention. "Logan, wake up."

His eyes snap open, instantly locking onto my face, before he checks the room. He must sense the distress radiating off me, because his expression shifts from drowsy to alert in an instant.

"Vlad's back," I choke out in a trembling voice. "He's been looking for me and he sounds pissed. According to his texts. What if he knows about us, Logan?"

"Hey, hey," Logan murmurs, sitting up and placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. His touch feels like an anchor in the storm raging inside. "It's not possible, Sasha. I made sure we had no tail. Let's just calm down and figure this out together, alright?"

But even with Logan's support, the ice-cold grip of fear refuses to loosen its hold on me. All I can think about is the violent retribution that awaits us if Vlad discovers the truth about the nature of our relationship. And as much as I want to believe Logan's words, I can't shake the nagging doubt that claws at the back of my mind.

"Logan," I whisper, my voice laced with desperation. "What are we going to do?"

"We’re going to play it by ear," he says calmly, but the small crack in his stoic expression betrays his own panic.

My hands tremble as I hastily pull on my underwear, and then my pants and my T-shirt. Logan's eyes follow me as I stumble into the bathroom to clean up.

"Let me drive you home," he offers when I return. "It’s best we navigate this together."

"Isn't that...worse?" I ask hesitantly. My pulse is wild and loud and won’t let me think.

"I don’t want to leave you alone with him."

My heart all but turns into mush.

"Better for Vlad to think we were out at the casino or doing something together than for you to have been alone all night," Logan reasons, and I can't argue with his logic. But there's one thing bothering me.

"You're not dressed for work," I point out, my eyes flicking over his half-naked form as he picks up his T-shirt from the floor.

He puts it on and grins. Yes, he bloody grins. In this fucking situation. And there’s a devilish glint in his eyes. "Don't worry about that. I've got it covered. Be right back." With that, he exits the room, leaving me to wonder what other tricks he has up his sleeve.

When Logan returns a couple of minutes later, he's holding a pristine suit that he claims he retrieved from his car. As I watch him change into the work clothing, I'm struck by the symbolism of his transformation: from lover to protector, the tender intimacy of our night together giving way to the harsh reality of our situation. He fastens each button with determination, his gaze never leaving mine as if to reassure me that he's ready to face whatever challenges wait ahead.

"Alright," I breathe, finding a little peace in the sight of him fully dressed and prepared, wondering what other things he’s still hiding from me. "Let's do this, luv."