Page 30 of Scarlet Vows (Yegorov Bratva #3)

When he hits bottom, his balls slapping against me lightly, my pussy spasms around him.

He whispers, “Holy fuck, malyshka . You’re so tight.”

He shudders, and when I try to move, he wraps my legs around him and stays still.

“Not yet, or this might be over before it’s begun,” he warns.

He kisses me. Not hard, but slow, a dreamy dance, our tongues making love, lips moving together, the heat flowing. I lose myself in him. The world closes down to only him and me and our mouths, his cock inside me, not moving quite yet.

Then, finally, he breaks that slow dance of a kiss and gazes at me as he starts to move.

Each thrust rubs my clit and hits my G-spot, and I’m already spiraling up toward another orgasm.

The pleasure’s already there anyway. I’m so on edge and stimulated that it isn’t going to take much to come again.

When I do, it’s beyond anything I’ve dreamed of with him inside me. He doesn’t stop, just fucks me slowly, the tempo gradually increasing, the thrusts deepening as he watches me. When I’m clutching at him, digging my nails and heels into him, Ilya starts to hammer into me.

I easily slide from one orgasm to the next.

Each one different, some light, some so hard I almost black out. It’s like the floodgates have opened. Every single good time I’ve missed crashes down in a scramble to get a moment in the sun.

He surges into me, and each stroke reaches my toes. I moan and beg for more. I want it all. I’m a beast, ravenous and eager to devour everything good he can offer.

Ilya starts to thrust so hard and deep that his balls slap me each time, and the big bed creaks and moves with the wildness. He bites hard on my throat, sucking my flesh, and I scream and come once more as he swells inside me, twitching as he comes, spurting deep.

He shudders and shakes, and then he’s kissing me, rolling us to our sides so we’re still joined. He kisses me softly all over my face, then he sucks my lip and kisses me all over again.

I drift on that sea of fulfillment and the aftermath of sex.

He’s still hard inside me but slowly growing soft.

He smooths my hair, kissing my cheeks, my chin, my lips. “Alina, sweet Alina.”

“Ilya.”

He searches my face. “Are you all right?”

“I’m okay,” I assure him, smiling.

When he pulls out, he lets me curl up with my back to him as he winds his arms around me, hugging me. We don’t speak .

I’m not sure what else to say. I’m not sure I can even speak now.

Emotions, big and raw, move through me, but it’s okay. As is the silence, which I find comforting. And through those raw emotions, there’s a closeness, one that’s always been there. In the silence, it peeks out again, letting me know we’re okay, no matter what.

Eventually, Ilya drifts off to sleep, but my mind won’t switch off.

After lying there for so long that I start growing restless, I know I’m not going to be able to sleep.

So I get up and grab the shirt Ilya had on.

I also pick up the colorful tie I bought him years ago.

It’s not even that nice now that I think about it, but I was a lot younger, had questionable taste in things, and didn’t get that bright, colorful ties didn’t exactly fit him.

I’m touched he kept it, though, and pleased he wore it. I drape it around my neck and check to see that he’s still sleeping. On the dog bed, Albert’s asleep, his legs twitching as he dreams. He must have come back in silently at some point to curl up near us. I leave him be, too.

I cross the room and push open the door to the huge balcony, the night cool and refreshing and exactly what I need. I pull the shirt a little tighter, breathing in the masculine scent of Ilya as I do. It comforts me and warms me from the inside out.

That was… that was incredible.

Apart from that, how do I actually feel about it all?

I know.

And I start to cry.

I can feel Max. Feel his arms around me, and the hug is warm and so real and feels every bit like a goodbye. It’s like he’s whispering to me how happy he is.

I don’t regret what happened with Ilya, but the idea of moving on from Max breaks my heart all over again .

As the tears flow, I hold myself because Max isn’t anymore. That part’s gone. He settles into his spot in my heart, the place that’s just for him that’ll always be for him.

A sense of closure comes over me. I realize it’s what I’ve been craving for a long time, but I’ve been so scared of losing Max.

I won’t. I see it now.

Without the barrier I made his ghost be around me, I can look forward and not back. I can see a future that isn’t dark, sad, and lonely. I can see something that shines with possibilities. Dread and sorrow aren’t there, built in, like I thought they were.

“I love you, Max,” I whisper. “I always will. But I have to let you go now.”

I cry harder.

But this time, the tears are clean and new. They’re a last gift from Max, because with them comes a fresh slate.

Max would approve of Ilya. He always liked him. I think that’s a gift, too. My Ilya.

And maybe, just maybe, I can let myself love again.