Page 12

It had been a few days since the drama with my family and the unexpected event with Sergei Tarasov. I still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that we shared a moment of intimacy. Even then, I remembered the taste of the wine on his tongue.

Kissing him was a reckless move—a very reckless one. But I didn’t regret it. Yes, I’d pulled away so I wouldn’t get sucked in passion and lose myself, but I was glad that it happened.

Dad was super upset with me for walking out on him and his guests. He said that I didn’t just embarrass him; I also embarrassed the O’Hara family. Essentially, everyone in the house was angry over the stunt I pulled. However, I didn’t give two shits.

It was my life, and no one had the right to sell me off like I was some cheap commodity.

Sergei had made my evening that day, and because of his kind gesture, I didn’t see the need to respond to my family’s bad energy.

Mom and Dad had said all manner of things and even called me names for daring to go against the household norms.

“Why can’t you be more like your sister?” My father had growled, his face etched with a mix of anger and disappointment.

Gone were the days when such direct comparisons would hurt me or make me feel terrible about myself. Maeve was Maeve, and I was me—Ayla. She’d never be me, and I’d never be her. I understood that years ago and had been at peace with myself ever since.

The fact that I didn’t respond to any of his rants only seemed to fuel his rage while Mom tried to calm him down.

“This child will be the death of me!” he had growled that evening.

Despite all they said and all the threats they made, I never responded to any of those. After they left me in the foyer, I headed up to my room and filled my mind with more important stuff than that.

It was rather hypocritical that my parents were upset because I refused to let them decide my future.

I chose my happiness over theirs, and that somehow pissed them off?

Wow! Their anger and disappointment only proved to me that they didn’t care about me or how I felt.

All they cared about was sealing the right deals and aligning with the right family, regardless of whose life they’d have to sacrifice in the process.

Although a part of me knew that it was rude to have left the dining room the way that I did, I still couldn’t help feeling some sort of satisfaction from their pain.

It was either me or them, and I chose me.

Dad was right; I wasn’t like my sister. She was the people pleaser. Not me. She might have agreed to marry a man of their choice, but that didn’t mean that I’d do the same. At least, in her case, she actually liked the man in question.

Anyway, the tension had died down over the past few days—maybe because I spent most of my time in my room. However, I knew this was far from over.

In the meantime, there was only one man on my mind.

Sergei.

I had tried multiple times to stop myself from thinking about him.

And on multiple occasions, I failed. It was almost like he was tattooed on my skin, his dark aura pulling me in like an enchantment.

All day, I’d been checking my phone, hoping to receive at least a text message from him.

It was ridiculous, yes. But I couldn’t help it.

It had already been a couple of days since our little chat on the rooftop, and still no word from him.

I thought we had a thing, some sort of connection.

But maybe I was delusional. Nothing could ever happen between us.

There was no spark. There was no connection.

Nothing. Just a silly girl who’d embarrassed herself by kissing a man she hardly knew.

Maybe it was best to stay away from him; he was, after all, an enemy of the family.

Later that day, during classes—one of those long, boring ones—I found myself drifting back to that night on the roof. Sergei’s husky voice, the taste of his lips on mine, and the way he looked at me, in absolute control of his desires. It was remarkable—his restraint.

Most men would have taken advantage of the situation, but he didn’t. He just casually changed the subject without making me feel bad about myself.

My phone buzzed once, and I snatched it up too quickly, not in fear of disturbing the class, but rather in anticipation of who had texted. I glanced at the screen, a glint of disappointment flashing in my gaze. It was just Ester checking on me.

After school, I strolled mindlessly down the busy streets, distracted by my own thoughts.

And then, just across the road, I spotted a familiar black SUV parked along the sidewalk.

A man, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, leaned against the car, his posture exuding elegance and sophistication.

I squinted my eyes, my heart lurching as I recognized him.

Sergei.

He watched me with that signature unreadable expression, his gray eyes inviting me over. My breath hitched, and I swallowed hard, knowing deep down that this was a bad idea. Heaving a sigh, I looked both ways and then crossed over to the other side.

“Hey,” I greeted him, my smile warm and courteous.

“Hey,” he replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

He opened the door for me like a gentleman, and I hesitated for a second before sliding into the front passenger seat. Sergei walked over to the other side and nestled behind the wheel. He turned on the ignition, the engine roared to life, and he drove away.

I had no idea where he was taking me, and for some reason, I didn’t ask. I should be afraid of this man, yet somehow, his presence offered a rare kind of safety. Eventually, he pulled outside a building I’d soon come to realize was an underground lounge.

The place was exclusive, hidden from the public eye, a private area where one’s wildest dreams could find expression. The lighting inside was dim, doing little to conceal the darkness that shrouded the few faces seated in sleek, plush leather booths.

He led me to a private room lit up with candle flames that flickered along the walls. Dominating the center was a small round table set for two, adorned with gleaming silverware and a single bottle of red wine.

At a corner, almost too bold to ignore, loomed a king-sized bed draped in silk sheets, its presence unspoken, yet impossible to overlook.

He slid out of his jacket, draping it on a nearby hanger, and then led me over to the table. Pulling out a chair for me, I beamed at him and took a seat, the sweet aroma of whatever was under those plates invading my senses. He sat across from me, silent, his eyes shining with a glimpse of desire.

“How are you?” he asked, that husky voice stealing my breath.

“I’m…I’m good, I guess,” I stuttered, my gaze dropping to my plate. My heart was hammering in my chest, my anticipation building with each passing second.

“That doesn’t sound convincing,” he said.

“Uh….” I managed to raise my head, masking my anxiety with a soft chuckle. “I’m fine. Really. Thank you.”

He nodded subtly and then glanced down at my untouched plate. “Not hungry.”

I’m hungry for you, I thought, holding my breath, hoping I didn’t say that out loud. “I’ll eat,” I said, eyes boring into his. “I’m just not ready yet.”

He cocked his head to the side, confused. “What do you wanna do before then?” His tone was low but flirty.

I swallowed, subtly steeling myself, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed.

The air was thick with tension, and although he seemed composed and in control, I could still see the struggle in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” I said, holding his gaze, my pulse quickening.

My voice dropped to a low whisper, my tone mild and teasing. “You tell me.”

His lips twisted into a mischievous grin. “It’s risky, putting the ball in my court.” A glint of warning crept into his tone.

I leaned back in my chair, a sultry flush painting my cheeks. “Why is that?”

His expression was dark with desire, and I knew exactly where he was going with this. I just needed to hear him say it.

He went silent, his eyes burning with hunger.

My heart was pounding like a drum, threatening to explode from all that anticipation swelling inside.

“Tell me,” I urged, leaning closer, reveling in his silent struggle to stay composed.

My eyes dropped to his chest region, drinking in the sight of his muscular build. “You can show me if you want.”

Again, his lips twisted into a mischievous grin, and the next I knew, his hand was caressing my thigh underneath the table. My chest rose and fell in anticipation as we stared into each other’s eyes.

In perfect harmony, we sprang to our feet, shifting away from the table. Driven by passion, he pulled me to himself, lips crashing dangerously against mine. I kissed him back, rough and desperate. So desperate that I ripped the buttons off his shirt.

He lifted me in his strong arms, my legs locking around his waist as our kiss deepened. Our heads moved in sync, tongues twirling in our mouths as he walked over to the bed. Sergei sat on the edge, his arms pulling me deeper into himself while I straddled him.

My hips ground against his groin, need coursing through my veins. I’d completely lost control and given in to this dark desire that I just might regret later on. But right now, I didn’t care—there was no going back. I cradled his face in my palms, devouring his lips like a hungry lioness.

He tugged down the spaghetti straps of my flowered gown, one after the other, his desperate hands squeezing against my bra. I moaned in his mouth, my hands flying to my back. With one swift move, I unhooked the bra, letting it slide down my arms and reveal my gentle swells.

He edged closer, taking my breasts in his mouth while his hands roamed my body, owning every inch. I broke the kiss, throwing my head backward, my waist grinding against his erection. His lips pressed against my neck, his tongue licking my skin like candy.

I bit down my lower lip in an attempt to suppress my moans, but I failed; they escaped my mouth, raw and unrestrained.

His touch was electrifying, breathing life into every cell in my body.

He switched between sucking my breasts and fondling them.

His tongue on my nipples sent shivers down my spine and tremors down to my core.

He rolled me over, my back against the mattress, as he sank to his knees and took off my underpants. Sergei’s eyes jerked up to meet mine in a fleeting moment before he buried his face between my legs.

My back arched in response to the magic of his tongue on my clit. “Fuck,” I moaned quietly, fingers grasping the sheets.

He ate me up like a man all too familiar with a woman’s body. His mouth worked wonders down my tunnel, his tongue licking my juice.

Waves of sensation crashed against me, my legs shuddering in the air. I curled my toes, my lips parted in a silent gasp. My hands pressed down on his head, fingers digging into his scalp as I bucked my hips, desperate for more.

My eyelashes fluttered, and my mouth curved in a dazed, blissful smile, soon replaced by a face contorted in pleasure. Sergei was an expert in eating pussy, and he pleasured me in ways I didn’t even know were possible.

He rose to his feet, wiped my juice from his mouth, and shed his shirt.

I sat on the bed’s edge, my fingers undoing the button of his pants, my head jerked upward.

He leaned down and claimed my lips, devouring them fervently, as I tugged down his pants.

Sergei picked me up as if I were weightless and lowered me back onto the bed.

He hovered over me, kissing and caressing my skin while I stroked his length with both hands.

I spread my legs, running his cap along my wet entrance.

The feeling was intense and sensual, and when he pushed inside me, I gasped, eyes wide with hunger.

My arms wrapped around him, my pulse racing the more he slammed against my waist. He squeezed my breasts, sucking and deliciously biting my nipples.

Desire twisted his features into something primal, his thrusts going deeper and faster.

My breasts bounced back and forth as he moved in and out of my cunt with relentless strokes.

The calm and collected man from earlier was no more.

The man claiming me right now was a beast—one driven by hunger and his own lust.

Everything happened so fast, as neither of us was willing to take things slowly. His strokes grew more and more vigorous by the second, each one harder than the last.

I surrendered, my hands above my head, pinned down by his firm grip. He gazed into my eyes while ramming my pussy so hard I moaned in his face. He let out a deep groan, and with the hardest thrust yet, he released, filling me up with his essence.

He hovered over me, breathless and spent. Yet, in his eyes, there was still a longing for me.

I rolled him over, his cock still buried in my pussy as I straddled him, my hands caressing his broad torso. I bit my lower lip, my waist grinding against his groin, slow and steady.

The first round was a quick one, and it helped ease the tension, releasing all that pent-up desire. This time, I was in charge, and I’d take it easy, riding him all night long until he said my name.

I might regret this. But for tonight, I’d let loose, go wild, and manifest my darkest desires.