Page 22

Ilya’s family estate was as grand as ever―an expansive property on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by towering iron gates and acres of meticulously kept land. From the outside, it looked menacing, like a place you would walk into and never be seen again. But it eased slightly from the insides, sprawling with warmth and familiarity that Ilya was used to.

The main house, a blend of old-world Russian architecture and modern luxury, stood like a fortress, its stone facade instantly commanding respect. Security was tight, with guards stationed at discreet yet strategic positions, but inside, it felt less like a compound and more like a home―warm lighting, intricate woodwork, and the faint scent of cedar and expensive cologne lingering in the air.

Ilya led her through the halls quietly, stopping at the wing they’d call their own. It was more private than she expected, tucked away from the rest of the house with a long balcony overlooking the vast estate grounds.

Their bedroom was large but not cold or impersonal. A king-sized bed dominated the space, the sheets crisp and inviting, while a fireplace flickered softly against the dimly lit walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the view outside, the black curtains shifting slightly from the night breeze.

Ilya watched her carefully, hands tucked into his pockets, catching every subtle turn of her head, every flicker of her eyes, every movement of her lips as she took in the space around them. He told himself he was just observing, just studying her reaction like he always did with people. But as the silence stretched, something unfamiliar curled tight in his chest, a pressure he hadn’t felt since he was a boy.

Nerves.

It was a strange thing to admit, even to himself, but there they were, squeezing at his ribs as he waited for her verdict. He had brought her here without expectation, but now, he was unsure. Would she want to live with his family? Would she see this as a home―or just another obligation?

He cleared his throat. “If you’d rather live somewhere else―”

She turned to him, a tiny smile playing on her lips, and his heart jolted.

Ilya wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to how beautiful she was. How, even in the simplest moments, she managed to steal the air from his lungs.

Then, to his surprise, she nodded approvingly, her gaze sweeping over the space once more. “It’s nice,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Could use a little more color, but besides that… I love it.”

Relief settled deep in his chest, like a knot unfurling, though he wouldn’t voice it. Instead, he noted the way her shoulders had started to droop, exhaustion catching up to her, evident in the slow blink of her eyes.

Instantly, Ilya felt stupid. Of course she was tired―she was pregnant, and he wasn’t.

“I should take you home,” he said, already reaching for his keys.

But she shook her head, her voice soft. “No, I’m too tired for that.”

She was already making her way toward the bed, her fingers brushing against the smooth fabric of the duvet. “I just want to rest. Close my eyes for a few minutes, maybe?”

Ilya hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Alright,” he murmured, toeing off his shoes. “Come here, then.”

The mattress dipped as she climbed in beside him, his movements careful, as if unsure of how close he was allowed to be at the moment. He hadn’t planned for anything more than rest. He told himself that having her in his arms was enough, that after everything, she needed sleep more than anything.

But the warmth of her body against his, the way she instinctively curled into him, made it damn near impossible to ignore the pull between them. His grip on her waist tightened slightly, his jaw flexing as he forced himself to stay still.

Then, she shifted, her breath ghosting against his throat as she whispered, “Kiss me.”

His muscles tensed. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his dark eyes scanning her face, searching for hesitation. She seemed tired and hungry all at once. Her eyes were slightly glassy, filled with want as she gazed at him through her eyelashes. Her lips were parted slightly, pink, waiting.

He pressed a slow, restrained kiss to her lips, testing her. “Is that what you want?”

She let out a small, needy sound against his mouth, her fingers curling into his shirt. “You can do better than that.”

Ilya exhaled sharply, his restraint hanging by a thread. His hands slid into her hair, fingers tangling firmly at the nape of her neck as he tugged her head back against the pillow. His mouth found hers again, no longer careful, no longer testing.

Then he kissed her, filthy and deep, like he wanted to brand the taste of him onto her tongue. His teeth nipped at her lower lip before sucking it into his mouth, swallowing the soft gasp she let out. He claimed her mouth like he was starving, like he was making up for all the moments they had spent without each other.

Valentina shivered beneath him, her breath coming faster, and when he finally pulled back just enough to look at her, her pupils were blown wide, her lips swollen and slick.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her fingers sliding up his arms, sending tiny bolts of sparks fluttering down to his toes. “That’s what I want.”

Ilya smirked against her mouth, his grip tightening in her hair, her body arching into him. “Then take it, Printsessa .”

He kissed her even harder, his hot tongue stroking against hers, slow and consuming, until she was gasping beneath him. Her fingers slid from the roots of his hair to his shirt, hastily popping open the buttons, desperate, impatient. She wanted him now, but Ilya had other plans.

He caught her wrists with one hand, pinning them above her head effortlessly. His other hand trailed down her side, teasing, barely touching. She writhed beneath him, frustrated, and he rewarded her with a slow, wet drag of his tongue along the length of her neck.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice a deep rasp against her skin. “I want to enjoy you. Let me take care of you, Valentina.”

She let out a soft, breathless whimper, her body melting into the mattress. He smirked against her pulse, pressing a kiss there before grazing his teeth along the sensitive spot beneath her ear.

“Good girl,” he praised, his fingers ghosting over the thin fabric covering her thighs. “Now, let’s see just how well you listen.”

He kissed his way down her neck, alternating between slow, teasing licks and deep, sensual sucks, leaving a heated trail against her skin. His touch was unhurried, deliberate―savoring her, indulging in her, like he had all the time in the world.

Then, with one swift motion, his hand came down the center of her chest, fabric giving way under his strength. The blouse and bra tore apart in a single motion, the remnants slipping off her shoulders, forgotten. Valentina gasped, her back arching instinctively as the cool air kissed her bare skin―only to be replaced by the warmth of his mouth.

He tossed the shredded material aside and lowered his head, resuming his slow, wet assault, lips pressing reverent kisses along the swell of her breasts.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick, reverent. Then his mouth closed around her nipple, tongue swirling as he sucked deeply. Valentina bit her lip, brows knitting in pleasure as he lavished attention on her, the wet heat of his mouth sending jolts of electricity straight through her body.

With a slow pop, he released her, dark eyes flicking up to meet hers before moving to the other side, flicking with the tip of his tongue, teasing, tasting.

“You have the most beautiful fucking tits, Baby,” he rasped against her skin, lips curling into something dark and sinful. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

Before she could answer, he dragged his teeth over the sensitive peak, grazing, then biting―just enough to make her gasp. His eyes stayed locked on hers, watching, waiting, his grip tightening as he saw the flash of pleasure ripple through her.

“Naughty girl,” he murmured, his voice wicked and approving. “I knew you’d like that.”

“Ilya,” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He smiled against her skin, his lips curving as he pressed slow, wet kisses down the smooth plane of her stomach, feeling the way her muscles quivered under his mouth. He kissed lower and lower, tracing the curve of her waistline with his tongue, his breath hot against her skin.

Then, with agonizing patience, he slid her skirt down her hips, taking her underwear with it in one fluid motion. His eyes darkened as he watched her arousal cling to the soaked fabric before breaking away, leaving her bare beneath him.

“Valentina,” he murmured, more to himself than her, his voice rough, thick with need. His large hands settled on her thighs, parting them with ease.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he said, his voice molten, ardent.

Starting at her ankles, he pressed open-mouthed kisses against her skin, trailing upward, his lips leaving a wet, heated path in their wake. He kissed along the inside of her legs, his touch possessive, his gaze locked onto the place he wanted most.

He dragged his teeth along the soft skin of her inner thigh, savoring the way she trembled beneath him. His grip tightened, fingers digging into her flesh just enough to make her gasp. His cock throbbed painfully in his pants, his heart slamming against his chest in anticipation, but right now, his focus was singular―her.

“ Printsessa ,” he murmured against her skin, his voice rough with want. “I want to take my time with you.”

She shivered as he inched closer, his breath hot against her center. His hungry eyes burned into her, drinking in every slick, glistening inch of her. A satisfied hum rumbled from his chest as he smoothed his palms up her thighs, forcing them wider.

“I want to feel every shiver, every gasp, every inch of you under me.”

Then, without warning, he pressed his mouth to her and took a long, slow lick that had her arching off the bed.

A sharp cry slipped from her lips, her thighs clenching around his head as if to keep him there forever. He let out a deep groan, sending vibrations through her core, before diving back in, his tongue flattening, curling, stroking, tasting.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, desperate, and when he glanced up, her teary gaze locked onto his―wild, pleading. He smirked against her, then flicked his tongue deliberating, watching as her lips parted, her breath hitching.

“Look at you,” he murmured between deep strokes, his voice wrecked with desire. “So fucking sweet. So perfectly made for me.”

His hands gripped her thighs tighter as he devoured her, determined to unravel her completely. He stroked her languidly with his tongue and then licked up to her clit, tugging into his mouth at the same time that two of his fingers easily plunged into her wet heat.

He tortured her with relentless, fast thrusts of his fingers, his teeth grazing her swollen clit, sending sharp bursts of pleasure through her. She was wrecked―crying, pleading, tugging at his hair with all her strength, thighs locked so tightly around his head it should’ve been suffocating. But it only drove him wilder.

His fingers curled inside her, pressing into that devastating spot, and she jerked against the bed, her spine bowing, her neck arching as her head tipped back into the pillows.

A broken cry tore from her lips, breathless and raw, as she shattered.

Ilya fucked her through it, his mouth unrelenting, lapping every last drop of her sweet release, dragging her orgasm out until her body trembled, overstimulated and limp beneath him. Only when she was clean―when she was ready to take him―did he finally pull away.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured hungrily as he tugged off his shirt, then his pants, stripping until he was just as bare as she was.

He grabbed her by the thighs and dragged her toward him with force, her slick skin gliding effortlessly against the sheets.

Sweat glistened on his forehead, trickled down his chest, his abs tensing as he wrapped a strong hand around his throbbing cock. He dragged the engorged tip through her folds, groaning as her wetness coated him.

“You’re going to take everything I give you, aren’t you?” His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable, his grip tightening at the base of his cock as he teased her entrance.

Valentina gasped, her fingers digging into his forearms. He leaned down, his breath hot against her lips as he circled her clit with his dripping tip. “I want to hear you say it.” He applied pressure on her clit and she whimpered. “Say it, Baby.”

Valentina’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling with anticipation. Ilya held himself there, thick and throbbing against her entrance, his dark eyes searching hers, demanding her surrender―not just her body, but everything.

“Yes,” she whispered, voice frayed and raw, fingers trailing up his arms, over the ridges of his muscles. “I’ll take everything.”

A groan rumbled deep in his chest, something primal, something possessive, and then he was pushing inside her, stretching her inch by inch, forcing her open to take him.

Valentina panted, her nails biting into his shoulders, pleasure colliding with the sweet burn of him sinking in deep. He was thick, impossibly hard, and when he bottomed out, buried to the hilt, he let out a ragged curse, his forehead dropping against hers.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his breath hot and unsteady. “You always feel so fucking perfect, Baby.”

She clenched around him, body adjusting to his size, her thighs tightening around his waist, and he lost it.

Ilya pulled back almost completely before driving in again, hard and deep, setting a slow, devastating rhythm that had her panting, her body arching to meet each long thrust. Every slide of him inside her knocked the air out of his lungs, the pleasure consuming him from the inside out.

His mouth found hers, claiming it in a messy, hungry kiss, his tongue licking into her with the same ruthless pace of his hips. He sucked on her lower lip, nipped at it, swallowed every gasp, every moan she gave him.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, desperate for more. “Harder,” she whimpered, rolling her hips against his, nails scraping down his back.

Ilya growled against her lips, pushed her knees back to her chest, and gave her exactly what she wanted. His thrusts turned rougher, deeper, his grip on her hips tightened as he pulled her against him, his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her whimper his name.

He watched her, drinking in every reaction, every flutter of her lashes, the way her mouth parted in pleasure, the way her breath stuttered each time he filled her completely, the little ‘ uh, uh, uh ’ sounds she made in symphony with their hips slapping together.

His abs clenched, muscles taut with pleasure as he gripped her heels, pushing her legs up over his shoulders. The new angle let him sink deeper, fucking her rougher, dirtier―hitting places neither of them knew existed.

“You love this,” he rasped, his thumb finding her clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, the other around her throat, squeezing. “You love the way I fuck you.”

“Yes,” she gasped, gripping his arms, feeling the heat coil low in her stomach, tightening, winding. “Ilya, I―”

“I know, Baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her jaw, her cheek, her temple. His movements never faltered, never slowed. “I know.”

And then he shifted, angling his hips just right, and she shattered.

Pleasure slammed into her, stealing her breath and sending aftershocks down her spine. She cried out his name, her body convulsing, tightening around him like a vice, dragging him under with her.

Ilya cursed, driving himself deep one last time, grunting as the walls of her cunt fluttered around him. And then his release slammed into him like a freight train. A guttural groan tore from his throat, his entire body locking up as pleasure surged through him, white-hot and consuming. It was different this time―deeper, more intense, like every restrained emotion, every unspoken feeling had unraveled in this moment.

He buried his face against her damp skin, murmuring sweet, reverent words in Russian as he spilled inside her, so hard and so much, more than he’d ever come before. It felt like a claim, a surrender, like something he could never take back.

They stayed like that for a moment, tangled together, chests heaving, skin slick with sweat, the only sound in the room their ragged breaths.

His face remained buried in the crook of her neck as he pulled out, her soft whine sending a shiver down his spine. He felt the warm trickle of his release spilling down her thighs, soaking into the sheets beneath them. Pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses to her damp skin, he was about to murmur something when her hand drifted downward.

His breath hitched as he watched her delicate fingers gather the remnants of him from between her thighs and plunge them back inside herself, her slick walls clenching around her own touch. He grunted, his grip tightening on her hips as she moaned softly, slow and indulgent, before bringing her fingers back to her mouth and sucking, her eyes locked onto his.

His stomach clenched. She was so fucking sexy that it made him insane. The sight of her, so wrecked yet still so needy, had his cock already twitching back to life, half-hard and aching. He groaned, dragging a possessive hand down her waist, already missing the feeling of her tight, hot pussy around him.

“I love you,” he murmured, lifting his head, brushing damp strands of hair from her face, his gaze softer now, raw with emotion. He said those three words as naturally as breathing. And they sounded so right, so perfect. “I love everything there is to you.”

Ilya watched her come undone beneath him, her body trembling, her breath hitching. Tears welled in her eyes, slipping free, tracing delicate paths down her flushed cheeks. The tip of her nose was pink, and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. She was so heartbreakingly beautiful it made his chest ache.

He smiled softly, brushing his knuckles across her cheeks, catching her tears before they could fall any further. “Don’t cry, Baby,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

Valentina let out a shaky breath, blinking up at him, and then she whispered, “Rhi said it first.”

She continued, clearing up his silent confusion. “She told me I was in love with you, and I told her she was bluffing. But I love you, Ilya. I really do.”

Something in him cracked wide open. He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead to hers, his fingers tangling with hers, squeezing. “I’m going to do all I can to be the best husband to you, Valentina. The best father. I swear it.” His voice was raw, full of conviction. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’m going to love and cherish our little family with everything I have. Okay?”

She let out a soft, choked sound, gripping his hands tighter, and he kissed her―slow and deep, pouring every unspoken promise into her lips, sealing them there.

Then she pulled back, her smile evident against his lips. “You’d better. Or my family will murder you.”