Page 37 of Dark Promise

I catch her hands, lacing her fingers with my own, lifting her arms above her head, pinning them there, my weight atop her, pressing down on her.

She makes a little mew of surrender, of need. She likes that, and fuck me, so do I.

I push the head of my cock against her opening, pumping in just a little, letting her feel the size and width, stretching her, teasing her. Fuck, she’s hot, slick, tight, her body made for me.

I grit my teeth, holding back, determined to be gentle, to be kind.

“Don’t,” she whispers.

I freeze, unsure what she means. I look down to see her watching me, her eyes heavy lidded, her lips swollen and pink.

“Don’t hold back,” she clarifies, her voice hoarse with desire. “Fuck me the way you want. The way I want you to.”

It’s all the invitation I need.

I push inside her, rough, hard, the feeling incredible. She gasps, her fingers twitching against mine where they’re laced together, her body arching to offer better access.

I close my teeth on the swell of muscle where her neck and shoulder meet, pinning her, marking her as I thrust again and again. I take everything she offers, sheathing my cock balls-deep, while she moan and pumps her hips to meet every thrust.

My orgasm builds, my whole body tightening with need.

I rear back and stare down at her, my goddess.

Her back arches. Her head extends, baring the delicate column of her neck. And then she comes again, her whole body growing taut as she tips over the edge. I let go, my own orgasm crashing through me.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, Sabina stretched out beneath me, our skin slick with sweat, our hearts pounding in tandem.

And then she laughs, her whole body shaking beneath me.

I rear back and stare down at her. Tears trickle from the corners of her eyes, along her temples, into her hairline. And she’s laughing.Laughing. Until she stops, her gaze locking with mine.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I never thought—” She shakes her head “I never knew—” Again, she shakes her head. “You really do fuck like a stallion.”

12

Sabina

The scentof coffee wakes me before the sunlight can, warm and inviting, curling through the air like a lifeline. For a moment, I stay still, the wonderful ache in my body a reminder of last night—of Nikolai. The room feels cocooned in quiet warmth, the faint hum of the generator a steady backdrop. I stretch beneath the blankets, my limbs heavy, my thoughts drifting to him.

And then the door creaks open.

Nikolai steps inside, shirtless, a tray balanced in his hands. His jeans sit low on his hips, his muscles catching the light like a work of art carved from stone. His dark hair is tousled from sleep—or from my hands—and his piercing blue eyes find me immediately.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice low and rough, as if it’s still waking with the rest of him.

“Is that coffee?” I ask, sitting up, clutching the blanket to my chest as if I can shield myself from how easily he unsettles me.

“Not just coffee,” he says, crossing the room with that predatory grace that makes my breath hitch. “Breakfast.”

He sets the tray on the bedside table, and I glance at its contents: cheese, crackers, dried apricots, nuts, and twosteaming mugs of coffee. Simple, almost absurdly so, but it feels more intimate than any elaborate spread could ever be.

“You made this?” I ask, tilting my head.

He smirks, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Don’t get used to it.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “You’re full of surprises, Nikolai.”

His smirk softens into something warmer as he watches me take the first sip of coffee. It’s strong, a little bitter, but perfect in its imperfection.

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