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Viktor

Three weeks later

Scarlett’s laughter echoes faintly in my ears as we step through the tall French doors leading back into the mansion. The evening air still clings to us, a cool whisper against the warmth of her skin. I glance down at her, watching as she brushes a loose strand of hair from her face, her cheeks flushed from the walk. She marvels aloud about the size of the estate again, her voice carrying a lightness that has become rare in recent months.

“It’s like a small country,” she exclaims her tone equal parts awe and disbelief. “Do you even know every corner of it?”

I chuckle softly, the sound rumbling in my chest. “Every single one. But maybe I’ll let you keep discovering them.”

Her eyes twinkled at that, and for a brief moment, I let myself get lost in the sight of her—whole, healed, laughing. It’s a far cry from the image that has haunted me for weeks: her swollen face, the purple-black bruises marring her delicate skin, the weight of my failure etched into her fragile frame.

The bruises are gone now. The swellings and discoloration are faded, and the skin underneath blooming pink with new life. And yet, the memory lingers a phantom ache in my chest every time I look at her. I’ve been angry, furious even—not at her, but at myself. I’ve questioned my decisions, my ability to keep her safe. Seeing her hurt—seeing her endure something I couldn’t protect her from—it’s a torment I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

But today, as she stands before me, vibrant and glowing, I feel a semblance of peace. Maybe I didn’t fail her completely.

“I’m heading into the shower,” Scarlett announces, breaking into my thoughts. She grabs one of my t-shirts from my walk-in closet, holding it up with a sly grin.

“Another one?” I tease, crossing my arms. “I’m going to need to buy more of those if you keep stealing them.”

She laughs, the sound warm and unguarded. “You should. They’re ridiculously comfortable.”

“Well, the earlier you get out of that one, the earlier I can have it back,” I reply taking off my clothes.

Her eyes widen, amusement flickering in their green depths. “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice tinged with mock sternness.

“Taking a shower—or a bath—with you,” I say, letting a mischievous grin spread across my face. “I’m sure the stall or bathtub is big enough for both of us.”

She cocks an eyebrow, her gaze dropping briefly. “And him?” she asks, pointing to the evidence of my arousal straining towards her.

“He’s coming too,” I reply smoothly as we walk into the bathroom.

Scarlett shakes her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “I’ve missed him,” she admits, her voice soft but edged with mischief. The sight of her undressing—each movement deliberate, almost teasing—stokes the fire already burning low in my gut.

“He was waiting for you to recover,” I murmur, my hands brushing her waist as I guide her toward the bathroom.

“Well, I have,” she whispers, her breath hitching slightly as I trail my fingers along the curve of her hip.

“Yes, you have,” I agree, slipping my hand lower, finding her already slick and ready. A low growl escapes my throat as I feel her body respond to my touch.

The bathroom is filled with the sound of running water and the warmth of steam rising to meet us. Scarlett moves ahead of me, stepping into the oversized shower stall with practiced ease. I follow her in, the heat of the water cascading over us as I press her back against the cool tiles. She gasps, her eyes locking with mine, a challenge in their emerald depths.

“You’re beautiful,” I murmur, my voice rough and low. It’s a truth I’ve told her countless times, but tonight, it feels heavier, more profound. “And I adore you.”

“Show me,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

And so I do. I kiss her deeply, my hands exploring every inch of her, my need for her overwhelming but tempered by the knowledge of everything she’s endured. She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist.

The water streams down over us, warm and cleansing, but it’s her touch—her scent, her taste—that consumes me entirely. My name falls from her lips, a soft plea, and I know then that she feels it too—the connection, the unspoken bond that ties us together in ways neither of us can fully articulate.

In this moment, there are no fears, no uncertainties, no memories of bruises or pain. There is only Scarlett, alive and whole, and me, vowing silently to keep her that way.

Forever.

I caress her wet skin, my fingers tracing the curves of her body, from her slender waist to the swell of her hips. Scarlett's breath quickens as my touch ignites a fire within her. I savor the sensation of her soft skin against my palms, her responsiveness fueling my desire.

Leaning in, I capture her lips in a passionate kiss, tasting the sweetness of her mouth. Our tongues dance sensually, mirroring the rising tide of our passion. Her hands roam over my chest, exploring the contours of my muscles, as if committing my body to memory.

As the kiss deepens, I feel her body begin to sag against mine, a sign of her surrender to the building pleasure. Gently, I guide her towards the shower stool, and she sits with her legs slightly parting, inviting me to explore.

Positioning myself between her thighs, I gaze at the glistening treasure between her legs. Her pussy, already swollen and glistening with desire, beckons me to come closer. I inhale her scent, a heady scent of her unique feminine essence, filling my senses.

Lowering my head, I let my tongue trace the length of her slit, from the sensitive bud of her clit to the entrance of her wetness. Scarlett's sharp intake of breath and the soft moan that follows tells me I’ve hit her sweet spot.

I take my time, savoring the taste of her, licking and sucking on her clit with deliberate slowness. Her hips begin to move in rhythm with my tongue, her hands gripping the edges of the stool as if seeking anchor in the face of the pleasure I was delivering.

"Oh, Viktor," she whispers, her voice hoarse with desire. "Right there ... yes ..."

Her words spur me on, and I increase the pace, my tongue flicking against her clit with increasing urgency. Her body tenses up, and I know she is close. With one final, firm stroke of my tongue, Scarlett cries out, her orgasm washing over her like a wave.

Her essence filled my mouth, a taste I savor as I continued to lap at her, prolonging her pleasure. Slowly, her trembling subsides, and she leans back against the shower wall, her eyes closed, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"You're incredible," she breathes out, reaching to touch my face, her fingers tracing my jaw lines.

I stand, pulling her up with me, our bodies still slick with water and desire. Together, we rinse off, the shower now serving a more practical purpose. We take our time, enjoying the simple pleasure of being clean and refreshed.

As the water warms our skin, I feel a renewed sense of connection with Scarlett. Her pregnancy has brought us closer, and the thought of the lives growing inside her fills me with a protectiveness I had never known before.

After drying off, I scoop her into my arms, relishing the feel of her naked body against mine. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her head resting on my shoulder as I carried her into our bedroom.

Our oversized bed, a sanctuary of soft linens and plush pillows, awaits us. I lay her down gently, my eyes never leaving her face. Her beauty, enhanced by after sex glow, is a sight to behold. A sight for only my eyes.

"I love you, Viktor," she whispers, eyes searching mine.

"I love you too, Scarlett," I reply, my voice thick with emotion. "More than you know."

Without further words, I join her on the bed, my body covering hers, our nakedness a testament to the intimacy we share. I kiss her, gently at first, then with growing passion, our tongues entwining in a dance of desire.

My hands roam over her body, reacquainting myself with every curve and hollow. I cup her full breasts, feeling the weight of them in my palms, and her nipples harden under my touch. Her hands are equally eager, exploring my chest and abs, her touch both soothing and arousing.

Propping her bum on the edge of the bed, I guide her legs apart and position myself kneeling between her thighs, my hardness pressing against her wetness. I pause, savoring the moment, before slowly entering her, our bodies becoming one.

Scarlett's eyes flutter close, her breath coming in short gasps as I begin to move, thrusting gently, mindful of her delicate condition. Her hands grip the bedsheet as I gently slide out and fill her again, our bodies moving in perfect harmony.

After a while, I adjust my position, entering her from behind, my hands snake around to her swollen belly. The sight of her carrying our children is a powerful aphrodisiac, and I feel the urge to make her mine.

"You feel so good," I whisper into her ear, my breath hot against her skin. "So tight around me."

She moans in response, her head falling back, exposing the long line of her neck. I kiss and nip at her sensitive skin, my hands caressing her breasts, my fingers teasing her nipples.

Our lovemaking intensifies, our bodies moving as one, driven by the primal need to connect and possess. Scarlett's moans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure that spurs me on.

"Harder, Viktor," she pleaded, her voice thick with desire. "Please ..."

I oblige, my thrusts becoming more urgent, my body slamming into hers with increasing but careful force. Her cries grow louder, a testament to the pleasure we were both experiencing.

As I feel my climax building, I reach down, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in time with my thrusts. Scarlett's body stiffens, and she cries out my name as her orgasm consumes her, her inner walls clenching around cock.

The sensation of her release pushes me over the edge, and I thrust one final time, my body shuddering as I empty myself into her, our pleasure intertwined.

We lay there, entwined, our hearts still racing, our bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. I kiss her forehead, my hand resting protectively on her belly, feeling the lives we had created together.

"I want to do that again," she whispers, her voice contented.

I smile, already anticipating making love to her again, consuming her with my desire, and affirming my unwavering admiration for this remarkable woman.