by Stella Gray
“Fuck,” I groaned, bearing down on his finger, wanting more.
“You like that?” he asked. “You like it when I fuck you with my hands?”
“Yes,” I said. “I love your hands. I want you to touch me.”
He pumped his finger back and forth gently, too gently, making me cry out with need.
“You want it bad,” he said, each word accompanied by a thrust of his finger, going deeper and deeper. “I can tell. You’re dying for me to fuck you.”
“Yes,” I begged, my hips thrusting, my juices wetting his whole hand. “Please fuck me, Stefan. I can’t be—” I gasped out a breath as he curled his finger to tap my G-spot. “Oh fuck, that’s good. Don’t stop. I can’t be without you.”
He repositioned us so that I was face down on the mattress and he was on top of me, his finger still fucking me. I grinded against his hand faster, fucking his finger, moaning into the sheets as the pleasure sparked through me. When he withdrew, I practically whimpered.
“I need more,” I said.
“You’re gonna get more,” Stefan replied.
With rough hands against my hips, he pulled my ass up off the bed. I was exposed to him, tense with anticipation. He slid his hand along the curve of my ass cheek before drawing his hand back and slapping me hard, right there. I gasped at the sting against my skin, the wash of heat afterward, shocked by the way my pussy clenched in response.
“God, yes,” I said. “Again.”
I loved it. I wanted more.
“You like that?” he asked and spanked me again. This time I moaned, my hips bucking. He did it again and I could feel my wetness dripping down the inside of my thigh.
“Stefan,” I begged, choking out the words. “I can’t wait. I’m ready now.”
“You want my cock?” he demanded, stroking my ass tenderly.
“Yes,” I agreed. “Now.”
Gripping my hip with one hand, he nudged my knees further apart with his thigh and then I felt the head of his cock against my wet slit, sliding up and down, teasing me. I sighed, already feeling the first hints of an orgasm.
“You’re mine,” Stefan said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Only mine.”
He tapped his dick with his finger as he pressed the tip of his cock right up against me, so I could feel the vibrations in my pussy. It was so good. So perfect.
Tears returned to my eyes.
“I’m yours,” I said, echoing his words. “Give it to me.”
“I’m not gonna go easy on you,” he growled, and I felt another flush of heat spread between my thighs.
Then he slammed into me, hard and deep, claiming me as his own.
I cried out at the exquisite pleasure, at how right it felt, and for a moment we stayed like that, connected, his cock so tight and thick I could feel it throbbing inside me. I could have come like that, but then he grabbed my hair, tugging my head back, and started fucking me fast and hard. The friction was incredible, every thrust coaxing high-pitched moans from my throat. His fingers dug into my skin as he braced himself with his other hand on my hip, and I hoped he would leave a mark. That tomorrow morning, I’d have something visible on my body to remember him by.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, leaning into it, my breasts bouncing hard with each thrust.
He went back to teasing me again, easing his pace until I begged him to go faster, then pumping into me so hard and quick I had to beg him to slow down. I loved every second of it. My face was pressed into a pillow, the sheets crumpled tight in my fists as each swing of his cock pushed me closer and closer to the edge.
“I love the way you feel,” Stefan groaned, his hand slapping my ass again. “I love how tight your wet little pussy is around my cock.”
“Yes,” I panted, spreading my knees as far apart as I could, opening my body even wider to him, wanting to feel him even deeper. “Fuck me,” I begged. “Fuck me hard.”
“You’re perfect for me.” Stefan gripped my ass harder, groaning as he pounded into me. “You’re mine.”
His words made me even wetter, my entire body shuddering with the waves of pleasure he sent crashing through me. It still wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Wanted to feel every last inch of him inside me.
“Harder,” I begged, needing this, knowing it might be my last chance to give myself to him. Knowing this might be goodbye. “I need more.”
Stefan pulled out and flipped me over onto my back. Then he turned on the small bedside lamp so he could rake his gaze over my naked body in the dim light, and when our eyes locked I could see the lust gleaming in his.
“You really are perfect,” he said.
Climbing over me on the bed, he pushed my knees up toward my chest so I was completely split open for him. As I waited for him to slam into my pussy, I could feel my heart hammering. When he finally thrusted inside me again, filling me up, I moaned along with him. We were both breathing hard, gasping for air as his long, hard cock stroked in and out of me in a blissful rhythm. I couldn’t get enough.
“More,” I ordered. “You feel so good.”
He slipped his hand down and swept his thumb in circles over my clit, just above where his cock was fucking me, and my entire body jerked with pleasure.
“I love you, Tori,” Stefan groaned as I thrusted in time with him, my body moving of its own volition, searching, seeking release. “I’ll always love you. I promise.”
Hearing his words, my eyes began to burn again and I tilted my hips up off the bed, forcing his cock even deeper. I didn’t know if he would remember his promises tomorrow when he was fully sober, or if he would regret them. Didn’t know if he’d remember how we’d made love like this. But I didn’t care. All I cared about was taking as much of him as I could in this moment and holding on.
“Take me,” I told him. “As hard as you can.”
He did as I asked, fucking me even harder, almost violently, his hips drumming against mine as my head hit the headboard. I lost myself in the movements of his body, in the way he took me, the feel of his cock inside of me, of his fingers against my clit. Hot sparks were twisting in my core, faster, hotter, deeper. I yelled his name, finally climaxing in an explosion of sensation and pleasure. My pussy clenched around him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I came in waves, harder and stronger than I ever had before.
Leaning over me, Stefan kept fucking me, driving his cock into my orgasm, my body no longer my own, his body no longer his. My release began to ebb, the contractions slowing, and then just when it seemed completely impossible, the hints of another orgasm began to spread through me. I slid my hands down to Stefan’s biceps, squeezing, holding on as tight as I could.
“I’m coming,” I told him, tears pricking my eyes. “I’m coming again.”
“I love you,” he said, his voice hoarse in my ear. “I love you. Only you.”
He dropped his lips onto mine as he fucked me hard, drawing out my second orgasm, making me cry out beneath him, moaning my pleasure into the quiet of the room. Then he spilled his own release deep and hot inside of me, whispering my name as he came.
Tori
Chapter 5
Sipping my coffee at the kitchen table, I looked out at the gorgeous view of Chicago’s iconic skyline, the icy blue waters of Lake Michigan lapping at the shore, the expanse of trees and green space along Lake Shore Drive. It was the kind of cold, clear day that reminded you that winter could be beautiful too.
If it wasn’t a Monday, I would have just burrowed under the covers and tried to read in bed all day, but I had classes to attend. On top of that, Stefan was still asleep in the guest room, and I planned to avoid talking to him until he was ready to tell me what he’d decided to do about Anja and the boy. So here I was, drinking coffee by myself, feeling completely at a loss.
Waking up in my husband’s arms that morning had almost killed me. I’d told myself that the sex last night could be a goodbye, but in the light of day I realized I wasn’t ready for goodbye. Not at all. I didn’t want to b
e apart from him, either. But I forced myself up and out of bed, leaving him to his probable hangover, knowing that once I left him, I’d have to give him—and myself—some breathing room.
At least I was the one controlling my distance from Stefan. As much as I knew he’d need his space, I didn’t think I’d be able to handle hearing the words come out of his mouth—I figured it was better to just keep myself away, let him take some time to process all the things he was dealing with.
If I was honest, though, I had to admit that part of me was avoiding him on purpose. I was hiding. I was afraid of what he’d say about Anja and his son if I confronted him right now. Maybe if he took a few days or even weeks to think it all over, he’d realize there were plenty of ways to work out the logistics of his new family life without ending our marriage. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel pressured, like he had to rush to make any big decisions.
I set my empty cup in the sink and padded down the hall to the master bedroom to get ready for school. It would be best to let him sleep. Get out of the condo before he woke up.
School wouldn’t be much of an escape, though. I’d have to put on a happy face for my friends and teachers, focus all my energy on paying attention in class instead of wallowing over Stefan, and hope that my inner turmoil wouldn’t affect any of my lessons.
My shower was quick, but it was impossible to ignore the bruises on my ass, and how sore I still was from the hard, intense sex we’d had. It made me ache for Stefan all over again.
Last night had been amazing, and I regretted nothing…but he’d obviously been at least somewhat drunk and likely not thinking straight, given the shock and the alcohol combined. I was sure he’d wake up today with his priorities sorted out, and I knew I might not be at the top of that list anymore—or even on that list at all. He’d been searching for Anja for years, after all. And that didn’t even account for the reality of their son.
Remembering the adorable, dark-haired boy with my husband’s eyes, my stomach twisted. Stefan had a son now. Things were going to be completely different, and it would be stupid to pretend otherwise.
As I put on my makeup, I couldn’t help obsessing over every little thing Stefan had said to me the night before. He’d said that he loved me, only me, and that he always would. He’d promised. He’d said I was his and that I was perfect for him. But he’d been drunk, too, and under an incredible amount of stress. Maybe the heat of the moment had pulled those words from his lips. It would be foolish to hold on to them, to hope that they were true.
Even though he was sleeping in the next room, he already felt miles away. It was torture.
I blinked back tears, dabbing at my now-wet mascara with a tissue, knowing I had to get my mind off the situation before I completely fell apart and couldn’t make it to class. That wasn’t an option. I had a test in Latin today, and finals were rapidly approaching so every point counted. Even one missed class could compromise my grades, and as pathetic as it sounded, my linguistics program was all I had to keep me going right now.
Latin vocabulary usually always put me in a good mood—how the words came out of your mouth reminiscent of the magic spells from Harry Potter, the way they so often sounded familiar since Latin formed the roots of many modern languages. But I struggled to find that joy today as I pulled out my school binder and ran down the vocab list in my notes.
Abduco, the root of abduct, meaning to detach or withdraw, to lead or take away.
Blanditia, the root of blandishments, meaning attractions, charm, allurement.
Contamino, the root of contaminate, meaning to pollute or infect.
It wasn’t the distraction I’d hoped for. Everything reminded me of Stefan. The way he’d withdraw from me, leaving me bereft of his charm, our marriage contaminated by the truths Anja had hidden away for so long. I might lose everything.
Could I count on Stefan’s words from last night? Would he even remember what we’d shared? Or worse—would he remember, and regret it?
Turning the page, I saw Gavin’s square, blocky handwriting instead of my own neat cursive. These were the notes I’d borrowed from him when I had been either too lost in heartbreak over Stefan or too head over heels for him to focus in class.
Gavin Chase, younger brother of Frank Chase, agent with the Department of Defense. Looking at Gavin’s pages reminded me that he was now a part of this whole mess as well. That what was happening right now with the Zoric family was bigger than my marriage, bigger than just Stefan and I—and always had been, even before we knew about Anja and her son.
Regardless of our personal issues, I was still committed to helping my husband take down KZ Modeling and its sex trafficking ring from the inside. With Gavin and Frank’s help.
As I slid into a pair of jeans and a thick-knit cashmere sweater, I marveled at how worried I’d been about meeting Konstantin for dinner last night. How Stefan and I had spent hours going over what I should say to his father in order to convince him that I would be loyal to the Zoric family. All that practicing, all those words. For nothing. Konstantin had barely looked at me last night, let alone asked me to make some declaration of allegiance to him.
Did my loyalty even matter now? Had my father-in-law completely dismissed me the moment Anja came back into the picture? Did he see her as my neat and easy replacement?
I couldn’t think about it. I’d just have to focus on getting through this one day at a time.
Heading into the closet I shared with Stefan, I pulled out my favorite brown boots and tugged them on. Then I hoisted my backpack over my shoulder and walked into the hall.
Just in time to catch Stefan coming out of the guest room.
So much for slipping off to school before he woke up.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asked, his voice sounding a little hoarse, whether from the lingering effects of sleep or from the alcohol he’d drowned himself in last night, I wasn’t sure.
“It’s Monday,” I reminded him. “I have class all day. Remember?”
Looking at him was difficult. He was in last night’s wrinkled clothes, his shirt not even tucked in. His feet were bare and his hair was a mess. And yet, to me, he looked perfect.
I wanted to drop my bag at my feet and run into his arms. I wanted him to take me to bed. To hold me. To tell me again that he loved me. But I couldn’t. I had to get out of here.
Before I could turn away, Stefan reached for my arm. “Don’t you think we should talk first?” he asked. “Why were you sleeping in the spare room last night?”
My throat felt tight, but I refused to cry in front of him.
“Can we talk about this later?” I said, pulling away. “I’m going to be late.”
A look of confusion crossed his face, or maybe it was just his hangover. “Are you mad at me?” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Of course not,” I said, flashing a fake smile.
And it was true. I wasn’t mad at all. I was just trying to keep myself together so I wouldn’t be destroyed when he told me he was leaving me. Which was something I absolutely couldn’t deal with at the moment.
I looked at my phone, pretending I had a notification. “My Uber’s downstairs,” I lied. “I’m not mad, really. See you tonight. I’ll probably be home late.”
With that, I kissed him on the cheek, spun on my heel, and practically bolted out of the condo.
Stefan
Chapter 6
All I could think about was how quickly my life had imploded in the last twelve hours.
Tori was blowing me off right when I needed her most, Anja had shown up out of nowhere, I had a son that I’d never met, and my father was still an asshole. Add to that how precarious my plan to take down KZ Modeling was, and it was almost too much to handle.
I was at a loss over my wife. The way she was acting so distant today had me worried. Obviously she had to be feeling some shock and upset over the whole Anja and Max situation—who wouldn’t? I was upset too—but it almost seemed like Tori
was trying to punish me for it, and I wasn’t sure why. Especially considering how close we’d been in bed, just hours ago.
Had I done something wrong? The events at the penthouse last night had been a total mindfuck, but Tori was the one who’d insisted that I stay at my father’s place with Anja. I had wanted Tori to stay, but she’d refused. What should I have done? Put off talking to Anja and gone home with my wife, instead of leaving her to sit in our empty condo and go to bed alone in the guest room? Should I have pushed harder to keep her at my side, so she’d have been with me during the discussion with Anja? Tori had been so adamant. Maybe I should’ve fought her.
I went into the kitchen and poured myself some of the coffee Tori had made, gulping it down black and lukewarm, and then stuck a slice of bread in the toaster oven. My mouth was dry, my head pounding. I was beyond hungover from the whiskey and from skipping both lunch and dinner the day prior. I’d been so focused on prepping Tori for the big Sunday night dinner at my father’s that I hadn’t bothered taking care of myself. And now I was paying for it.
As I forced down the dry toast, I went over the events of last night. I could still remember every moment in detail, from the confrontation with Anja to arriving home and finding the bedroom empty. For one, long, horrible moment, I had thought that Tori had left me.
Not that I would have blamed her. The whole thing was a fucking mess. Anja. Max. My father. Who wouldn’t want to get as far away from that nightmare as possible?
I’d found her easily enough in the guest bedroom, her body curled up almost self-defensively under the pile of covers. My heart ached at the sight, at the realization that she’d hidden herself away from me. And then the way she’d acted this morning. It was killing me.
I wanted Tori at my side. I needed her to help me through this, to be my wife and partner. Somehow, though, it seemed like I had fucked everything up. Being a husband was new to me. Being a good husband was even newer. How was I supposed to know how to act, what to say? My own father had never provided much of an example on that front. I was doing my best.
