Page 18 of Scarlet Promise (Yegorov Bratva #4)

Chapter Thirteen

ALINA

Ilya’s touch makes me sing and throb and ache for more. The slow thrusting of his fingers sets a rhythm that beats in my bones, setting off a tingling of pleasure that whispers and begs for more.

He pulls me forward so I have to grasp the edges of the table, and with his body, he spreads me open. He kisses me again, his tongue mimicking the deep thrust of his fingers in a way that makes me want to keen.

I want to clutch at him, wrap around him, but he won’t let me. He’s in control of the narrative, spinning me up, filling me so that the only thought in my head is Ilya. The only feeling in me is pleasure-tinged need.

He breaks the kiss, drops down, pulls back my panties, and starts to lick and suck my clit.

I cry out with need. His tongue is rough and soft, his fingers stretching even as they plunge deep, only to curve as they pull out to rub that exquisitely sensitive spot before pushing back into me.

“More…”

He works me with his lips and tongue, his teeth catching my clit, holding it as he plays against it with that clever tongue. The velvet wetness and hot softness of his lips are like nothing else on this earth.

A spasm hits me.

He isn’t playing a game of drawing me out, only to pull back and then do it all over again. This is real and raw. Soft and sweet. But it’s not sugar-sweet. It’s sweet with salt, with an edge to push me into that feverish place of no return, where I transform and shatter. I can feel it approaching.

There’s no too much in this. It’s just an overwhelming attack of more. The pleasure is turned up.

I spasm once more, then I start to throb. A thrilling, rolling throb that hits another throb until my body is singing, shaking.

I shatter, my cry ringing out, making Albert howl. I don’t care. I’m no longer real, just pure, unadulterated, over-the-top, wild ecstasy. I clench hard over and over again on his fingers.

I’m flooded. Lost, found. Everything all at once and completely and utterly consumed by Ilya.

When I stop shaking and the orgasm recedes, he pulls out, rips open his pants, fists his cock, and plunges balls deep into me.

“Oh god, yes,” I breathe.

One of his hands comes down on mine on the desk, and he holds me in place as he starts to fuck me.

He hammers into me, his other hand on my waist, and I’m in heaven. The fast, deep thrusts are exactly what I’ve been craving. The way he stretches me and fits me, the heated steel of him… All of it is divine.

More. I want more, and even though I don’t say it, he seems to know. He slams into me harder, each deep thrust making me shake, sending bursts of joy through me. It’s a physical manifestation of joy, something I think I could touch as it ripples, as it explodes, making me hot everywhere.

I can feel every inch of him, and the way he’s angled, he can hit all the good places inside me. My flesh clings to him as he pulls out, only to accept him when he thrusts back into me.

As he looks into my eyes, his face a glorious mask of passion, he lifts his hand from my hip and touches my clit, sending me hurtling off into another spiraling orgasm.

Before I can come down, and while my body’s still clenching down on his, he pulls out and grabs me, yanking my panties down and turning me. He pushes me onto my stomach and thrusts back into me, sending the orgasm spinning upward again.

He’s so fucking deep inside me.

He slides deeper than ever, my pussy so slick and welcoming, and even though it’s a tight fit, he can move. The sensation makes my nerve endings sing more, my clit hum and throb harder than ever.

Ilya gives a guttural groan. When I think he’s going to join me in this rolling orgasm, he pulls out and dips into me with his fingers, spreading my lubrication over my asshole.

Everything in me stops. I quiver as the tingles of the orgasm play out over me in ever-slowing waves. I wait with anticipation.

Slowly, Ilya pushes into me, stretching me with slow, incremental thrusts, almost like he’s rocking into me, teasing me into a relaxed state so he can enter me.

He passes that tight ring of nerves, and then he’s in. But he doesn’t stop the slow invasion. He sinks into me until he’s balls deep. He comes down over me and bites and licks my ear.

“I’m going to fuck you again, malyshka . Fill you with my cum.”

I tremble as he pulls out. I’m at his complete mercy. Face down, ass at the edge of his desk, with nothing to do but clutch the edge near my head. Whatever he does is his choice.

And there’s something so intoxicating and freeing about that. It’s also me giving him trust, which I do.

Ilya would never hurt me.

I’m his.

Slowly, slowly, he thrusts, building a rhythm I adjust to. There’s a weird and wild pleasure in anal, and it’s unbelievably intimate. I want this. Desperately. I want that orgasm it can bring, something so deep and body-altering.

I’ve only ever done this with one other person, and he’s gone. And this…this is new. All over again. Different in the best way; familiar in the best way, too.

As he stretches me, thrusting into me with harder, rougher thrusts, I tremble. The pleasure is a wild bloom of nerve endings that are in one place and everywhere, all at the same time.

When I start to come, it’s a whole-body experience, one that’s intense and divine and pure.

I close my eyes as my vision wavers. A booming wave takes me over, deep, sublime, an intensity of connection and pleasure that can’t ever be captured.

An intensity that’s a nail’s edge between perfection and too much and utterly sublime.

He grunts and thrusts deeply, holding me as he cums inside me. The twitch of his cock sends more waves through me, and I can feel the spurts inside.

Ilya collapses down on me, kissing my cheek, my ear, my throat as he strokes back my hair.

When he pulls out, I hear the hiss of his zipper. He then picks me up, turning me and taking me to the sofa, where he lies down with me, holding me as the intoxicating waves slide through me until they’re gone.

I’m replete, born again, his.

“How long do I have you for tonight?” he asks.

Albert jumps up on us, settling in what can only be a heap on an uncomfortable bed of limbs.

But I relish his heat and weight, the love that emanates from him that’s big enough to fill the world. It echoes the warmth of emotion that comes from Ilya, comes from within me.

Downstairs my bodyguard will be waiting.

I know I have to go back tonight.

I just wish I didn’t.

“I could stay.”

“Fuck, Alina, I want nothing more for you to stay, but baby steps. We’ll work on you coming back to live with me, but in this, I agree with Demyan.”

I look up at him. “You agree with him that we should be apart?”

“No.” He drops a kiss on my lips. “I agree you’re safer with him.”

“But earlier?—”

“ Malyshka ,” he murmurs, “it’s not a matter of you trusting me to protect you, or me being able to do it. This is about the best place for you, and right now, that’s with Demyan. Away from my weakened bratva.”

I frown. “Ilya?—”

“Baby steps,” he says in Russian to emphasize the importance of what he’s trying to say. “We are also building trust. And right now, I need to know you’re safe so I can concentrate on ending the risk and getting you back here faster.”

I want to argue, but I keep quiet. Not because he won’t listen—this is Ilya; of course he will.

But I know he has a point, that Demyan will find it easier to accept my move back here when I start visiting regularly, maybe staying over, each time a little longer, and each time a little closer to the previous time.

I hope.

Demyan’s complicated and stubborn and cursed with mostly always being right.

Except with this.

Because it’s my life, and he’s wrong about Ilya.

“Demyan’s scared of losing us both,” I say, “and as I said earlier, it’s his problem if he doesn’t do anything to fix it.”

“Alina…”

“But you’re right, too. You need space to work, and as long as I can see you for now, I’ll stay at Demyan and Erin’s.

If your grandfather’s lawyers ask, then I’m staying with my brother for added safety.

But you know I’ll have to be back with you to uphold the will.

And you also know even if that didn’t exist, this is where I want to be. ”

He doesn’t move, barely breathes. I put a hand on his chest, and his heart is racing wildly.

“Right?” I whisper.

Ilya smooths my hair back and kisses me long and deep, and it melts me from the inside out.

“You have to ask? I’d have you here in a heartbeat if danger didn’t abound.”

“I’d be here regardless.”

A slow smile blooms.

“Yeah?” he asks.

I kiss him. “Absolutely.”

The next morning, I’m re-energized. I stretch and wake before my alarm.

Albert’s head perks up, and he tilts it, gives a soft bark, and jumps down to dance on the floor.

I grin. “Okay, bathroom time?”

In answer, he scratches at my door.

He has a doggy pad in here, but Albert knows he should go outside and will hold it until then.

“Good dog,” I say, throwing on a robe and opening the door.

He scrambles out but waits for me at the top of the stairs and trots down beside me.

Seeing Ilya last night was what I needed. Exactly. And I’m not even talking about the sex. Reconnecting in person, being able to talk to him and touch him, breathe in the same air was special and perfect.

The sex was phenomenal, and I wanted to do it again, go down on him, do all kinds of things, ride him on his lap while he sat there, have him take me against the wall. Ideas piled on ideas, but Ilya, though definitely tempted, declined.

He wanted to spend the time we had with me. Talking, touching, just being with me.

So Svetlana brought us snacks, and we spoiled Albert, played cards, and had some drinks. I had tea; he had vodka. There was something about booze that turned my stomach lately, something I definitely put down to the stress I’ve been under.

And it was good.

Like old times.

Alina and Ilya having fun, despite the rest of the world.

It made me fall for him even more.