Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

A leksei

She was perfect.

She was everything I had hoped she would be and so much more. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so utterly consumed with a woman.

Amy was… well, she was different.

She wasn’t some submissive little thing, looking to please me, looking for someone to tell her what to do.

She was fiery and passionate, and she wasn’t afraid to push back, even if that meant she ended with my cock deep in her bright red and freshly belted ass.

It wasn’t often that I found a woman who could hold her own against me, but Amy? She did it with ease.

It was a new experience for me, and it was exhilarating. I was a man who got what he wanted, a man who took charge, a man who controlled every situation. Even now, my dick throbbed from being inside the viselike grip of her tight little ass, but all I could think about was the next time I could sink into her again.

She was already becoming an addiction, and we both knew it. When I looked at her, I saw the same hunger reflected back at me. She was a drug, and I was a junkie, desperate for my next fix.

I shifted slightly, my arms still wrapped around her trembling body, savoring the feel of her soft skin against mine. The air between us was heavy with the scent of sweat, sex, and something deeper—a heady blend of her essence mixed with the faintest trace of her perfume. I could still feel the heat of her body, the way she had responded to every strike of my belt, every moan, every clench of her tight little asshole around my cock. She had taken everything I gave her and then begged for more.

No one had ever come apart for me like she had. No one had ever given me that mix of resistance and surrender, that fire and vulnerability, that perfect blend of defiance and submission.

I couldn’t get enough of it.

Of her .

My chest ached as I held her closer, her soft breaths brushing against my neck. I’d never been one to linger after sex like this, but now, I couldn’t imagine letting her go.

I stroked her back gently, marveling at how she fit so perfectly against me. She was still trembling slightly, her body slowly coming down from the high I had taken her to. I loved that I was the one to push her there, to strip away every wall she’d tried to build around herself. She was perfect.

No.

She was mine .

I tightened my grip, letting my fingers trail through her hair, still damp with sweat. She smelled like desire, raw and intoxicating, and I had to close my eyes for a moment just to savor it. My cock still throbbed with the memory of being inside her, that tight, unforgiving heat that had nearly driven me insane. Even now, the thought of it, the feel of her clenching around me, made my pulse quicken, my need for her growing again.

But for now, I was content just to hold her. There was a strange kind of peace in it, a quiet satisfaction that I hadn’t felt in… well, maybe ever.

I shifted slightly, brushing my lips against her forehead, and she sighed, the sound soft and contented.

“Perfect,” I murmured against her hair, letting the word slip out before I could stop it. She was utter perfection, and that was the problem. Because now that I’d had her, now that I’d tasted what it was like to break her down and put her back together… I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop.

She was mine now, whether she realized it or not. And I was going to show her that there was no going back, that once she gave herself to me, I wasn’t ever letting her go.

Amy shifted in my lap, her soft, warm weight pressing against me, and I couldn’t stop the way my body responded to the friction. I let out a quiet groan, my hands gripping her waist to steady her. She was still trembling, still catching her breath, her cheeks flushed and her hair wild around her face. The sight of her, disheveled and thoroughly fucked , made my chest tighten with something far more intense than just desire.

But as much as I wanted to take her again, right here, right now, I knew she needed time to recover. I slid my hands down her sides, feeling the way her body quivered under my touch, before gently lifting her off my lap. She stood on shaky legs, and I couldn’t help but admire the way she tried to pull herself together, smoothing down her dress with trembling hands.

Without a word, I reached out, taking hold of the hem of her dress and adjusting it back into place. My fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her thighs as I did, and she sucked in a breath, her eyes widening. I leaned in close, so close that my lips brushed her ear, and whispered, “You won’t be needing these for now.”

Before she could react, I grabbed the sodden fabric of her panties in my fist. I slipped them into my pocket, locking eyes with her as I did.

She opened her mouth, perhaps to protest, but I just gave her a slow, satisfied smile.

“A reminder,” I said softly, my voice a low murmur that sent another shiver through her. “That you belong to Daddy now.”

Her cheeks flamed, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she let out a shaky breath, her gaze dropping to the floor as if trying to gather herself. I watched her, my chest tightening with something that felt dangerously close to pride. I had broken her down, made her surrender, but there was still that fire in her that made me crave her even more.

With a gentle but firm touch, I took her arm and guided her out of my office. The gallery was empty now, the soft glow of the evening lights casting shadows over the artwork that lined the walls. The world outside had long since moved on, but here, in this space that was ours alone, time seemed to have stopped.

We walked in silence, arm in arm, her smaller frame tucked close to mine. I could feel the tension still thrumming through her, but she leaned into me, letting me guide her. I kept my pace slow, savoring the feeling of having her so close, of knowing that she was mine, even if she hadn’t fully accepted it yet.

When we reached the coat closet, I turned to her, carefully helping her into her jacket, my hands lingering on her shoulders. She looked up at me, her eyes still a little dazed, as if she was struggling to process everything that had happened. I smoothed down the collar of her coat, letting my fingers brush against her neck, relishing the way she shivered under my touch.

“There,” I said softly, my voice filled with a tenderness that even surprised me. “Now, let’s get you home.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head, taking a small step back. “You don’t need to walk me home,” she protested, her voice wavering slightly. “I can… I can manage on my own.”

I tightened my grip on her arm, my eyes locking onto hers. “That’s not up to you,” I said quietly, my voice firm but not unkind. “You belong to Daddy now, and I’m not letting you walk these streets alone. Not tonight. Not ever.”

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but the look in my eyes must have silenced her, because she just nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor again. I could see the war inside her, the push and pull between wanting to hold on to her independence and the part of her that was slowly, inexorably surrendering to me.

“Good girl,” I murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Now, let’s go.”

Without another word, I led her out into the cold night air, her arm still tucked in mine. We walked in silence, the city lights casting a soft golden glow on the wet pavement. She stayed close, her body leaning into mine, and I couldn’t help but smile.

She was trying so hard to pretend that she wasn’t affected by me, but I could feel it—the way her pulse quickened every time I tightened my grip, the way her breath hitched when I leaned in close.

I loved every second of it.

The walk to her apartment was a quiet one, the cool night air wrapping around us like a comforting shroud. Amy stayed close, her arm linked with mine, but I could sense the internal battle waging within her.

Every few steps, she’d glance up at me, her cheeks flushed, then quickly look away as if catching herself. She was clearly embarrassed, maybe even confused by the sudden shift—from the intensity of what I’d done to her in the gallery to the quiet, almost tender moment we were sharing now.

When we reached her building, she hesitated at the entrance, biting her lip as if considering whether to invite me up. But I wasn’t going to leave her now, not when I was so close. I pressed a hand to the small of her back, guiding her gently inside, up the stairs, and to her door.

I didn’t need to be led. I already knew where she lived.

She fumbled with her keys, and I couldn’t help but smile at how endearingly flustered she looked. Finally, she managed to unlock the door, pushing it open to reveal her apartment.

The space was cozy, warm—a reflection of her. There was something inherently comforting about it, the kind of place that made you want to sink into the couch with a good book and a cup of hot steaming tea.

“It’s… not much,” she said softly, her voice uncertain as she glanced up at me. I could see the hint of pride beneath her blush, though, the way her eyes darted around the room like she was trying to see it through my eyes.

I turned to her, brushing a knuckle along her cheek. “It’s perfect,” I said sincerely, letting my gaze linger on hers. “Just like you.”

Her cheeks flamed again, and she quickly turned away, slipping off her jacket and hanging it by the door. I watched her, amused by how she was trying to hide her embarrassment.

But there was no hiding from me—not anymore.

I walked in further, letting my gaze roam over the space. I could see her personality in every corner—from the books on the shelves to the art prints on the walls, to a few old canvases propped up near a small easel, the scent of lavender lingering in the air. It was all so… her. And I liked it more than I cared to admit.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, trying to sound casual, though her voice still had that breathless edge. “I, um… I can get us something to drink.”

I smiled and shook my head, stepping closer to her.

“I’ll take care of it,” I said softly. “Why don’t you relax?”

Before she could argue, I was already moving toward her small kitchen. I found a bottle of wine on the counter—a decent Italian red, nothing too extravagant but certainly good enough to unwind with. I popped the cork with practiced ease, pouring a generous glass for her before handing it to her with a small smile.

“Here,” I said, watching the way her fingers trembled slightly as she took the glass. “Something to help you relax.”

She took a sip, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she savored it. I watched her, enjoying the way her shoulders began to loosen, some of the tension finally melting away.

While she settled herself on the couch, I turned back to the kitchen, surveying her cupboards and refrigerator. It was sparse but well-stocked with essentials, and within moments, I knew exactly what I was going to make.

“Let’s see what we have here,” I said to myself, rummaging through her pantry. She shot me a curious glance from where she sat, sipping her wine, but didn’t object.

Wise, because I was already thinking about putting her back over my knee again.

I pulled out a few ingredients—a half-empty bag of potatoes, onions, garlic, and a package of ground beef. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to whip up something simple and hearty. I turned to her with a playful grin.

“Hope you’re in the mood for a little taste of my homeland,” I said. “I’m thinking a quick version of kartoshka s myasom —potatoes with beef.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I didn’t take you for the cooking type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, baby girl,” I replied, winking at her. She blushed again, looking down at her wineglass, but I caught the small smile she tried to hide.

As I set to work, the apartment filled with the savory scent of onions and garlic sizzling in the pan, followed by the rich aroma of searing beef. I glanced over my shoulder to see her watching me, her expression softer now, the blush still lingering on her cheeks.

“Are you really cooking in my kitchen right now?” she asked, incredulity laced with amusement.

“Is that a problem?” I teased, stirring the pan.

She took another sip of her wine, shaking her head slightly. “No… it’s just… no one’s ever done that for me before.”

I paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. The vulnerability in her voice, the way her eyes darted away as if she’d revealed too much—it stirred something in me, something possessive.

How had no man taken proper care of her before? How was that even possible?

“Well,” I said, clearing my throat and turning back to the stove, “consider this the first of many times.”

The words slipped out before I could second-guess them, and from the corner of my eye, I saw her cheeks flush again, her gaze softening. There was a part of me that should have been alarmed at how natural this felt—me, in her apartment, cooking for her like we’d done this a hundred times before.

But as I listened to the soft hum of her breathing, the crackle of the pan, and the quiet clink of her glass against the coffee table, I realized I didn’t want this feeling to end.

I decided that I wouldn’t let it.

I finished plating the food, a rich, savory mix fragrant with spices and herbs I’d found hidden in her pantry. The scent of it filled the small apartment, warm and inviting, and I turned to see Amy’s eyes widening as she caught a whiff.

I couldn’t help the satisfied grin that tugged at my lips; I’d seen that look before. I’d impressed her.

Good.

“Dinner is served,” I said, bringing the plates over to the small coffee table in front of the couch. She was already curled up there, her legs tucked beneath her, her cheeks still tinged pink from everything that had happened earlier.

“You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she said softly, but her smile was genuine, her eyes sparkling in the soft light.

“I wanted to,” I replied, settling down beside her, close enough that our knees brushed. The touch was subtle, but I felt her shift slightly, her body instinctively leaning into mine. I handed her a fork, my fingers brushing hers, and watched as she took her first bite.

Her eyes fluttered shut, a soft sound of pleasure escaping her lips as she savored the flavors.

“God,” she murmured, “this is amazing.”

“I figured you deserved something nice after… everything.” I let the words hang there, wanting to push her only a little.

Amy gave me a sidelong glance and shifted in her seat, likely because her pretty little ass was still sore from my belt, her cheeks pinking again, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she took another bite, washing it down with a sip of wine.

“You certainly know your way around a kitchen,” she said, changing the subject with a lightness that made me smile. “What other surprises are you hiding, Aleksei Morozov? Are you going to tell me you can play the piano next?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “No musical talents, I’m afraid,” I said, leaning back and watching her as she ate. “But I do know how to appreciate good food, good art, and…” I let my gaze linger on her lips for a moment, “…good company.”

She looked away, her blush deepening, and for a moment, I thought she might retreat back into herself. But then she lifted her glass, her eyes glinting with a playful spark.

“Speaking of good wine… Want to hear how I first discovered this particular vineyard? It’s one of my favorites.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “I’m all ears.”

She took another sip, her smile turning nostalgic. “It was a few years ago. My best friend Zoey and I were on a study abroad trip in Italy. We were supposed to be learning about Renaissance art, you know, absorbing culture, being responsible students.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “But instead, we found ourselves in a tiny village in Tuscany, in this hole-in-the-wall vineyard that wasn’t even on the map. The owner spoke no English, but he was very generous with his wine. Very, very generous.”

I grinned, leaning in closer. “How generous are we talking?”

Amy’s eyes sparkled as she leaned back. “Well, let’s just say that by the end of the evening, Zoey and I were convinced we could sing in fluent Italian. I think we even tried to dance on the vineyard tables… until I fell off and knocked over a crate of grapes.”

I laughed, the sound rich and genuine.

“So, you’re telling me that your tastes are particular then,” I teased, nodding toward the wineglass in her hand.

“Oh, absolutely,” she said with a mock-serious expression. “I’ve been sort of a wine snob ever since. But Zoey and I swore off cheap wine after that trip.” She paused, a soft smile playing on her lips. “We realized the best experiences are always worth savoring.”

I nodded, holding her gaze. “I couldn’t agree more,” I said, my voice low, letting the words linger between us with a deeper meaning I knew that we both understood.

Amy’s smile faltered for a moment, her eyes flickering with that same mix of uncertainty and desire that had been simmering all evening. But she didn’t look away, didn’t retreat. Instead, she raised her glass, meeting my gaze with a steady resolve that made my chest tighten.

“To savoring the good things,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper as she clinked her glass against mine.

“To savoring the good things,” I echoed, watching the way her lips curved into a smile as she took a slow sip.

As she finished her last bite, setting her fork down with a contented sigh, I leaned closer, my hand resting lightly on her knee.

“Thank you for letting me cook for you,” I said softly, my fingers tracing lazy circles on her leg. “And for sharing that with me.”

Her eyes softened, and for a moment, there was no pretense, no games, just the two of us, the world outside her apartment fading away.

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. “For… everything.”

I reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her skin. “The night doesn’t have to end here, you know,” I murmured, my voice low and inviting. “But only if you don’t want it to.”

Amy’s breath hitched, her eyes searching mine. There was a moment where the air between us felt impossibly thick, filled with words we weren’t ready to say out loud. And then, with a small, almost shy smile, she nodded.

“Stay,” she whispered, and it was all the invitation I needed.

If I was being honest with myself, I wasn’t ready to leave her just yet anyway. And I was beginning to suspect I never would be.

With a curt nod, I cleared the remnants of our dinner. Then I settled back on the couch, reaching for the remote. Amy curled up beside me, a soft, sleepy smile on her lips. The tension that had hovered between us for so long seemed to have melted away, replaced by something gentler, warmer.

I scrolled through the options, and she pointed to an old classic, some black-and-white film she said she loved as a teenager.

“I haven’t seen this one in ages,” she murmured, her voice soft with nostalgia.

“Then it’s settled,” I said, clicking play. “We’ll watch your favorite.”

As the film began, I poured her another glass of wine and poured one for myself. She took a sip, her eyes glued to the screen, and I couldn’t help but watch the way her lips curved into a soft smile. The movie was slow-paced, filled with old Hollywood charm, but I was more interested in the way Amy’s eyes sparkled, and the way her laughter flowed easily as we watched.

After a while, she shifted closer, resting her head on my shoulder. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in until she was practically in my lap. She fit against me perfectly, her warmth seeping into me, and I pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the subtle scent of her shampoo. It felt… right. Like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

I kept her wineglass topped off, and as the evening wore on, I could feel her relaxing even more, her body melting into mine.

After the third glass of wine, her eyelids started to droop, her head lolling against my chest. I turned the volume down, stroking her hair gently.

“Getting sleepy?” I whispered.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, her eyes fluttering closed. “Just… a little.”

I chuckled softly, running my fingers through her hair as she let out a contented sigh. “Come on, sweet girl,” I said, my tone soft and coaxing. “It’s time for bed.”

She mumbled something incoherent, trying to keep her eyes open, but it was no use. I slid my arms beneath her, lifting her effortlessly off the couch. She let out a sleepy little laugh, her arms wrapping loosely around my neck as I carried her toward the bedroom.

“I like you taking care of me,” she murmured, her voice slurred with exhaustion.

I smiled down at her, my chest tightening with something that felt dangerously close to affection.

“Someone’s got to,” I teased gently as I pushed open the door to her bedroom with my foot.

The room was cozy and warm, with soft blankets piled on her bed. I laid her down carefully, pulling the covers up around her shoulders. She blinked up at me sleepily, her lips curving into a soft, grateful smile.

“You’re going to stay?” she asked, her voice so quiet I almost missed it.

“Of course,” I answered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. I quickly shrugged off my shoes and jacket, then my pants and my shirt before slipping into bed beside her. The mattress dipped under my weight as I curled around her, pulling her back against my chest. She let out a soft, contented sigh, her body relaxing into mine.

I wrapped my arm around her waist, my hand resting on her stomach as I pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her neck. The scent of her skin, the warmth of her body—it was all so intoxicating, so perfectly right. She was soft and warm, and the steady rise and fall of her breaths was like a soothing lullaby that pulled me deeper into the moment.

As she drifted off, her breathing slow and even, I found myself lingering on the edge of sleep, holding her close, my thumb tracing lazy circles on her stomach. There was something about this—about her—that filled me with a sense of peace I hadn’t known I was missing.

For so long, my life had been filled with chaos, control, and power plays. But here, with her in my arms, it was like all the noise faded away. I tightened my hold on her, feeling her nestle closer in her sleep, and let my eyes flutter closed.

I hadn’t planned on her becoming something more than just a casual fling, but she was slipping past every guard I had put up in my life.

And if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t want to stop her.

I let out a slow breath, pressing one last kiss to the top of her head before finally letting sleep take me.

If I could fall asleep like this every night—holding her, feeling her warmth seep into me—I knew I’d be a happy man for the rest of my life.