My lips still tingle from what happened on the couch last night. I can still feel Matvei’s rough, rugged beard on my skin and his firm hands wrapped around my waist. If I close my eyes and focus, I can even smell his cologne and hear the low, rumbling hum in the back of his throat.
He sounded like a wild animal. Like he wanted to ravage me, break me, consume me.
I hated it.
I loved it.
I wish I could relive it all again.
After he left for club business, I found myself in bed, wondering what happened right after the end, when he threw me aside and looked like he’d seen a ghost.
To my surprise, I even dreamed of him after I fell asleep. The Matvei in my dream was softer and took his time. He laid me down on the sofa in the living room and kissed his way down my body.
When he looked up at me, my breath caught in my lungs.
I could see it in his eyes that he knew he was in control. That, at least, was exactly the same as the Matvei I know in real life. Every part of me longed to feel him. Lying there, so exposed and vulnerable, it was clear that I was his to take.
And he did take me.
At first, he was gentle. He took his time, moving his body against mine in slow, careful strokes. The second time, he thrusted harder. He could see that I wasn’t fragile. I wouldn’t break.
By the third round in the living room, I could barely contain the ecstasy, and he could barely contain his strength. He made it hurt in the best way possible, hands threaded through my hair and tugging my head back, teeth sinking into my shoulder as he bent me over the arm of the sofa.
I’d always thought the rougher side of sex was too intimidating, but in my dream, Matvei made it feel just as good as the softness. He bounced between tender and brutal in a way that didn’t scare me. It made me feel like I knew him better than anyone else.
It feels like pulling teeth finally getting out of bed. What I really want to do is lie there and fantasize more about Matvei, but I know that Nikolas is probably up and about, wondering when I’m going to make breakfast for him. So, I drag myself out of bed and into the shower, resisting the urge to slip a few fingers between my legs and relieve some of this pent-up stress.
While I massage shampoo into my hair, my mind wanders back to what Dad told me earlier. The phone he gave me was to call him or this so-called FBI agent if I ever had any new information. Matvei mentioned a club last night, something about running drugs there, and that seems like something the FBI would find useful.
I could do it, too. What an insane thought. All it would take is a second to relay the information to the proper people and an investigation would start. It would get the ball rolling, and if everything worked out properly, Matvei would be arrested. Dad and I would be free.
But then I think about Nikolas. He’ll be all alone without his uncle. His mother and father were just recently killed, and the one person that he has left would be put behind bars. I couldn’t imagine ever doing something like that to the boy. Even thinking about it now makes me feel a lump of guilt in my throat.
Calling the FBI is the easy solution, but I can’t. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did something like that.
I finish my shower and quickly get ready, skipping any makeup and brushing out my hair before I blow dry it. When I’m finished, I put on a pair of jeans and my favorite tank top, then head down to the kitchen. Nikolas doesn’t seem to be awake just yet, so I decide to surprise him with breakfast in bed.
I make a quick plate of eggs, bacon, and toast, and with a glass of orange juice in my hands, I head back up to his room to surprise him. Quietly, I sneak into his room and turn on the lights. Nikolas groans and rolls over to look at me. His face is sweaty and flushed, and his ears are bright red. He’s