Page 16

Chapter 16

Crescendo

Erin

D mitri hasn’t said a word since we left the club, but the weight of his silence fills every inch of the car. It’s thick, rolling off him in waves, pressing into me, making every breath feel tight and heavy.

He thinks I don’t notice when he glances at me, but I do. Each flick of his eyes, each barely restrained inhale, sends electricity zipping through me, sharp and intoxicating.

The performance high still buzzes under my skin, amplifying everything. The memory of his hands on my shoulders, the way he stepped between me and Luka, the possessive heat in his gaze when he helped me into the car.

Mine.

He didn’t say it.

He didn’t have to.

Ris shifts in her sleep, and I move instinctively, adjusting so her head isn’t at an awkward angle. The shift sends my dress sliding higher up my thigh.

Dmitri’s knuckles go white on the steering wheel.

Good.

I need this man like my next breath. And I can tell he’s made a decision. The kind there’s no coming back from. But if I edge him a little longer, push just a bit more, draw this out like a slow crescendo…I can pretend I’m still in control. That I’m the one setting the rules. That he still has his restraint.

At least while his daughter is in the car.

Because I know the second she’s not, the second we’re alone, I won’t be in control anymore.

The car glides to a stop in the driveway, but Dmitri doesn’t move. His hands remain clamped around the steering wheel, tension coiling through him like a live wire. The kind that’s about to snap.

The silence is too much. Thick. Weighted. Crackling.

My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out the quiet hum of the engine. I steal a glance at him—at the sharp angle of his jaw, clenched tight. At the dark eyes fixed straight ahead, seeing everything and nothing all at once.

Then, without a word, he gets out.

His movements are silent. But there’s a restrained force in every step that makes my breath catch.

He opens the back door, extracting Ris with infinite care. She’s completely limp, her blonde curls spilling over his shoulder, tiny hands grabbing the fabric of his shirt. He turns, his eyes finding mine over the roof of the car. His voice is low. A command wrapped in a warning.

“Don’t you dare try to run.”

I swallow hard, skin prickling, my nipples peaking against the thin silk of my dress.

“Be a good girl,” he murmurs, “and wait for me.”

* * *

I don’t remember walking inside.

I don’t remember anything except the way his voice felt curling around my spine, the way my whole body thrummed in response.

The house feels different. Charged. Every shadow is deeper, every breath louder, the anticipation pressing against my ribs like a second heartbeat.

My heels click against the hardwood, sharp in the silence. I sink onto the couch, fingers tracing the smooth fabric, grounding myself.

Breathe, Erin.

But my heart won’t slow. My mind won’t settle. Because I know what’s coming.

I want it.

And I’m terrified.

My reflection stares back at me from the dark window—wide eyes, flushed cheeks, lips parted.

I look different.

Reckless.

Wrecked before he’s even touched me.

Then, footsteps on the stairs.

My gaze snaps up.

Dmitri is descending. His jacket is gone. Tie loose. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing the broad, solid plane of his chest. His movements are slow. A lion stalking closer, one step at a time, eyes never leaving mine.

He lifts his hand. The tie slides free from his fingers, draped over the banister.

I swallow hard.

“You’re still here,” he says lazily, voice rough, low, curling around my spine.

I nod, mouth dry. “You told me to wait.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. Barely.

“You’re scared,” he murmurs, taking another step.

I nod again, and his eyes flash. “Then why didn’t you run?”

The question dangles between us. The air pulses. I don’t have an answer that makes sense.

So, I settle for the truth.

“Because I need to know,” I whisper, “how it feels to be with you.”

The weight of his gaze has my entire body vibrating like a string. As if he’s trying to light me on fire with his glare.

And then he’s standing in front of me, reaching out a hand. I take it, and he pulls me up to him. My feet are shaky as he drags his fingers along my jaw, his palm warm and rough against my cheek. The simple touch is enough to make me combust. Before I can stop myself, I lean into it, my skin tingling in the wake of his tender, almost reverent caress.

“You were incredible tonight,” he whispers, his breath hot and close. “The way you played. The way you owned that stage.”

“You liked it?” I tilt my head, and another strand of my hair falls loose. “The Shostakovich is all about...control.”

His hand moves, catching that wayward strand.

“Speaking of control.” He lets his fingers graze my neck. “You’ve been testing mine all day.”

“Have I?” But my voice shakes.

“The dress.” I shiver from the edge in his voice. “The way you played.” I can barely breathe. “You had my cock stiff as a brick, having to watch you in that ruinous dress from afar. Without being able to reach for you.”

I swallow hard, my heart roaring, my femininity clenching. But then I decide to be reckless and dare him.

“So, are you going to do something about it?”

The words come out barely above a whisper. They’re meant to be challenging and brave, but they come out shaky. He doesn’t even blink, smiling lazily. Taking his time.

“So impatient,” he rasps slowly, his breath tickling my ear, hot and still way too far. His voice is like velvet dragging across my skin. “We are in no rush.”

My lips part, gasping for breath. “I assumed…” I stammer. “I assumed you would swallow me. Consume me.” My voice is barely there, a breath between us. “But here you are. Slow burning this.”

His lips curl. “Is that what you want, solnyshko ?” he murmurs, his thumb gently tracing my lower lip, causing a tremor to ripple down my spine. “For me to consume you?”

I shake my head, or maybe I nod. I don’t know anymore. My thoughts are scrambled, my pulse hammering. He’s so close I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin.

“Let me show you what you want,” he breathes, fisting my hair and pulling my head back. A firm, commanding touch, holding my head in place, unrelenting, so different from his soft lips patiently brushing mine.

It’s barely a kiss. Just a graze, a teasing drag that leaves my whole body shaking. But he’s holding me in place possessively. The juxtaposition is jarring and exhilarating. As if he wanted to show me that I’m safe with him. No matter what.

I exhale sharply, grasping his shirt, desperate for more, but he sets the pace, his mouth moving over mine with agonizing patience, all the while holding my hair as his reins, making it impossible to move. And then our tongues slide together, a tangle of silk and promise. He sweeps in, gently tasting and coaxing, wrecking me with every slow stroke.

A whimper escapes me, my body pressing against his like instinct.

He pulls back just enough to let me breathe, his forehead resting against mine. His breath is unsteady, his hand sliding down to hold my waist.

“Are you ready, Erin?” he asks, his voice rough, filled with something dark and deep and inevitable .

“Yes.”

His eyes blaze, a flash. And then finally, finally, Dmitri Sokolov is done holding back. His mouth crashes into mine, and holy hell, this man kisses like he plays hockey. Power, precision, perfect control. Until suddenly, there isn’t any control at all.

His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking over my jaw as he angles my head exactly where he wants it. When I gasp, he takes full advantage, deepening the kiss until my knees actually give out. But he’s there, one arm banding around my waist, pressing into me harder. The solid wall of his chest pins me in place, and God , this is what I’ve been waiting for. This is what I’ve been dreaming about since the first time I saw him.

“Still testing me?” He breathes the words against my lips.

I nip his bottom lip in response. “Still holding back?”

He growls—actually growls—and then his mouth is on my neck, finding a spot that makes me see stars. His teeth graze my pulse point, and I have to bite back a moan.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, and fuck, his eyes are almost black. “You ruined me today. The dress. The shoes. The performance. The way you play like you’re making love to that cello. I bet you will play me like that too.”

His mouth is back on mine, and thinking becomes impossible. One of his hands tangles in my hair, destroying what’s left of my bun, while the other traces patterns on my hip that make me whimper.

He takes my hand, his fingers entwining with mine as he leads me up the stairs. Every step is a slow unraveling, a deliberate stripping away of resistance.

Of control.

I should be nervous. Should be thinking, second guessing.

But I’m not.

Not with his thumb tracing lazy circles against the back of my hand. Not with his breath still warm against my lips. Not with the taste of him lingering on my tongue and demanding more.

He opens the door to his room, and?—

God.

It’s exactly what I imagined.

Dark wood, clean lines. Masculine. Precise. Perfectly put together. And at the center of it is a bed. Large. Dominant. Uncompromising. Crisp white sheets stark against the heavy, sin-dark frame. A bed that speaks of power. A bed that promises destruction.

I swallow hard, my heart thundering, my pulse a violent staccato in my veins.

Dmitri watches me, eyes unreadable.

Then, slowly, he reaches up and unbuttons his shirt.

One.

Two.

Three.

His movements are slow. Precise. Like he’s savoring this moment. Like he’s drawing it out just to wreck me completely.

The fabric slides from his shoulders, revealing sculpted muscle, hard lines, and smooth golden skin stretched over strength.

I stare, my mouth parched. He steps closer, and I stop breathing. The heat of his body. The sheer size of him. The force of everything he’s been holding back.

His fingers brush my arm, then down, catching my wrist. He lifts my hand, pressing my palm flat against his chest.

“You wanted to know,” he murmurs.

The words—spoken so quietly, so intensely—send a shudder down my spine.

I flatten my palm against him, fingers spreading over the steady, powerful drum of his heart. He’s burning under my touch, all heat and tension, muscles coiled tight.

“You’re still trembling,” he says, almost to himself.

I don’t know if he means my hands or my breath or the way my body is slowly melting into his.

“I—I just?—”

Want you.

But before I can find words, Dmitri tilts my chin up, his thumb tracing the edge of my jaw with devastating gentleness.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmurs, his voice heavy. “You should never be afraid of me.”

“I’m not,” I whisper. “I’m scared of how much I want you.”

His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back.

A deliberate touch. Firm. Commanding.

The contrast is jarring—his grip possessive, his mouth soft as he brushes his lips over mine, slow and torturous.

He’s holding me in place, unrelenting, while his kiss is nothing but patience. I exhale sharply, my fingers curling into his chest, but he sets the pace, his mouth moving over mine with agonizing slowness.

My knees threaten to buckle.

Then his mouth is at my neck, finding the spot that makes my entire body lock up, his teeth grazing my pulse point.

“Quiet, solnyshko ,” he murmurs when a moan escapes me, his accent thick, rich, wrecking me. “Wouldn’t want to wake the little one. Playtime would be over.”

I gasp as he drags his hands down, unzipping my dress, letting it fall to the floor and leaving me in only my panties and heels. Then he pulls back just enough to look at me, and—fuck.

His eyes are black.

His hand curls around my hip, drawing me closer, his other hand palming my breast.

“These tits have featured in my dreams for weeks now,” he rumbles, cupping the weight of my breast in his palm, brushing and playing with the sensitive buttons. He leans down and takes a nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking on it.

Thinking ceases to exist.

He straightens, one hand tangling in my hair, destroying what’s left of my bun, while the other teases down my thigh until my leg hooks over his hip. He lifts me, carries me to the bed, sits me down on it. I lean down to take off my shoes, but he stops me, his hand covering mine.

“Leave them on,” he growls. “I want to see how you look when you come with my name on your lips, wearing these shoes.”

His words set me on fire, a thrill of anticipation that has my heart racing. He straddles me as he pushes me onto the mattress. His hands roam over my skin, tracing the curves and lines, exploring every inch of me.

I look up at him, my breath coming in quick pants. This is it, the point of no return. And I’m ready to jump, ready to fall into the abyss.

The shadows and moonlight dance across his face as he hovers over me. His dark eyes are ablaze with a hunger that has my heart pounding in my chest. I’m laid out before him, feeling more exposed than ever, and yet, there’s something empowering about the way his gaze devours me.

“You’re still trembling, Erin,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that I feel deep within my core. His fingers trace the lace of my panties. He hooks his fingers into the waistband, then pauses, his eyes meeting mine. “Lift,” he commands softly, and I obey, raising my hips so he can slide the lace down my legs, leaving me completely bare except for my heels.

“Because you’re making me wait,” I admit, my breath hitching as he slowly pulls it down. His touch is deliberate, torturously slow, and it’s wrecking me in the best possible way.

He leans down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of my collarbone. His mouth moves lower, sliding down inch by agonizing inch. Cold air peaks my painfully hard nipples.

“Do you taste as sweet as you smell, solnyshko?” His voice is a rumble, a thunder that rolls over my skin and shoots straight to my core.

“Dmitri, please,” I manage to whisper, my eyes fluttering closed as his mouth finds my nipple, sucking gently before moving to the other, biting and teasing.

“I love hearing you beg. And then giving you exactly what you need.” He discards the panties, his eyes never leaving mine. “Are you on protection, Erin?”

I nod, my voice barely a whisper. “Yes. I have an implant.”

A slow, approving smile spreads across his face. “Good girl. Nothing to separate us.” A surge of heat spreads through me. I’m totally wrecked, completely at his mercy. The way he holds back, the control he maintains, only serves to heighten every sensation. I’m a live wire, sparking with anticipation, desperate for his touch.

He moves down my body, his lips blazing a trail of fire along my skin. Each kiss, each gentle nip, sends waves of pleasure crashing through me. His hands explore every curve, every line, as if memorizing my body. I’m a symphony, and he’s the maestro, playing me with expert precision.

When his mouth finds my pussy, I gasp, my hips arching off the bed. He takes his time, tasting my opening, greedily sliding his tongue from back to front, nibbling at my clit, teasing me, his tongue circling exactly where I need him to be. My hands fist the sheets, my body taut as a bowstring, ready to snap.

“Dmitri,” I pant, his name a plea on my lips.

He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire. “Let go for me, Erin,” he murmurs against my skin, the vibration of his voice sending shockwaves through me. “I want to feel you fall apart on my tongue.”

And finally, I do. I shatter, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure wash over me. He stays with me, riding out the storm, his mouth and hands gentle as he brings me back down to earth.

I lie there, spent and breathless. Dmitri Sokolov has ruined me, utterly and completely. The room is a blur of muted colors and soft shadows, but Dmitri, he stands out like a sculpture carved from living marble. He lifts himself up, and I’m treated to the most spectacular view of my life. A wall of cut and sinewy flesh, shadows playing on the indents of his muscles. His body is a landscape of hard lines and smooth planes, each one defined and taut. He’s not just athletic; he’s a fucking masterpiece.

His pants hit the floor, and my breath catches. He’s magnificent, jutting out proud and erect, the tip already glistening. I lick my lips, the urge to wrap my lips around him and taste him overwhelming. But as I start to sit up, he gently pushes me back down, a smirk playing on his lips.

“So eager, “ he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “But not our first time. I’ll let you suck me later. If you’re a good girl. Will you be a good girl for me, solnyshko ?”

I nod, I pout, but there’s no real protest in me. I’m too hungry for him to fill me. I watch, spellbound, as he gently takes off my shoes and throws them on the floor, kissing my ankles. He then lowers himself, the corded muscles in his arms rippling as he braces over me. He positions himself at my entrance, a vision of male perfection, his movements fluid, controlled, relentless. He takes himself in hand, his grip firm and sure. I can’t look away, can’t think of anything but the sight of him, poised and ready to claim me.

“You’re dripping,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

His eyes meet mine, dark and intense, like he can’t decide if he will devour me or possess me. “All for you, Erin. Every fucking drop.”

He pushes into me slowly, like a silk spear, so slowly it’s torture. Inch by inch, he fills me, stretching me, completing me. My body yields to him, welcoming him in. I look down at our bodies joining, so turned on that I could come just from watching him possess me.

He groans, his jaw clenched. “So fucking perfect for me.”

I can’t speak, can’t do anything but feel. Each slow stroke sends waves of pleasure coursing through me. He’s deliberate, unyielding, his movements driving me wild. He’s fucking me, owning me, and more than anything, making love to me. I’m a mess of need and desire, my body coiling tighter with every thrust, my hips pumping hungrily, wringing out the blessed relief of feeling him inside me.

“That’s my beautiful fucking girl. Taking my cock so good.”

His pace quickens, his strokes becoming more forceful. The room fills with the obscene sound of our bodies slapping together. He’s hitting every spot, every nerve, playing my body like a virtuoso.

“Dmitri,” I gasp, my nails digging into his back. “I can’t...I can’t hold on much longer.”

He looks down at me, his eyes fierce and possessive. “Don’t,” he growls. “Let go, Erin. Let go for me. And open your eyes. Look at me while I fuck you.”

And I do. I shatter around him, my body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. He stays with me, riding out the storm, his strokes relentless. And then, with a final, powerful thrust, he comes undone, his body shaking with the force of his release.

We collapse together, spent and breathless. The world around us fades away, leaving only the two of us, entwined and sated. In this moment, there’s nothing but us, nothing but this perfect, explosive connection.

In the quiet aftermath, the only sound is our ragged breaths, slowly syncing up as we come back down to earth. Dmitri’s body is half-draped over mine, his skin slick and hot, his face buried in the crook of my neck. I can feel his heart pounding against my ribs, or maybe that’s mine, I can’t even tell anymore.

“Mm,” he murmurs, his lips vibrating against my skin. “Give me fifteen minutes, and then we go again.”

I giggle, a silly smile spreading across my face. My body feels like it’s been turned inside out, every nerve ending sparking and humming.

He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with those dark, intense eyes. His hair is a mess, damp with sweat, and all I want to do is run my fingers through it. So I do, pushing it back from his forehead, my fingertips tracing the line of his temple, his cheek, his jaw. He leans into my touch, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re amazing,” he says, his voice low and husky. “Everything about you...drives me crazy.”

I feel a flush creep up my cheeks, my grin widening. “I could say the same about you.”

He chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest. “I’m glad you think so.” He leans down, presses a soft kiss to my lips. It’s gentle, tender, a stark contrast to the wild, desperate kisses we were sharing a moment ago.

His hand mirrors mine, brushing the hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear. His fingers linger there, tracing the shell of my ear, the curve of my jaw. It’s such a simple touch, but it sends a wave of warmth washing through me.

“I’ve wanted to do dirty, delicious things to you from the first moment I saw you at the Philharmonic,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “Wondered what it would be like to have your pussy pulsing around my cock. To own these tits. This cunt.” He slides his hand down, cupping my center, playing in my wetness. “And now look at what a mess you’ve made, you dirty girl,” he teases, his strokes making me see stars.

My heart flutters in my chest liked a caged hummingbird. “I’ve wanted it too.” I laugh. “I wanted to climb you like a tree the moment I saw you.”

His smile is cocky, but also soft. It’s a look I’ve never seen on him before, and it makes my heart ache. “I like giving you what you need,” he drawls, his hand moving faster and faster, his mouth claiming mine, teasing me.

I laugh at that, a quiet huff of amusement. “Yeah, I’d say you’re doing well.”

He rolls onto his back, pulling me with him so that I’m draped across his chest. His arms wrap around me, holding me tight, like he’s afraid I might slip away. I rest my chin on his chest, looking up at him.

“You know,” I say, tracing idle patterns on his skin, “for someone who’s so intense on the ice, you’re surprisingly...gentle.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Gentle?”

I nod. “In the best way. Like, you’re big and strong and tough out there, but in here,” I tap his chest, right above his heart, “you’re different.”

He captures my hand, presses a kiss to my fingertips. “Only with you, Erin,” he says. “Only for you.”

My heart melts at that, and I snuggle closer, tucking my head under his chin. His arms tighten around me, and I can feel his lips press against the top of my head.

“We should probably talk about this, huh?” I say, my voice muffled against his chest. “Come up with some rules?”

I can feel the rumble of his laugh against my cheek. “Probably,” he agrees. “But not tonight.”

And so, we lie there, tangled up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. Just the two of us. And it’s perfect.