Page 24 of Wicked Embers

Her chest rises and falls, her breath quick and uneven. She’s frozen between hesitation and the magnetic pull of the moment. Her eyes meet mine, flickering with a storm of emotions—fear, defiance, and that unyielding spark that has gripped me from the start.

“I’m waiting, ptichka,” I say, letting impatience seep into my tone. “If you’d prefer to move this to the basement for your punishment...”

Her fists clench briefly at her sides, and for a moment, I wonder if she’s going to lash out at me the way she did in my VIP room. But then her gaze drops to the floor.

A shuddering breath escapes her lips, and trembling fingers reach behind her back. Her bra loosens, and with some reluctance, she lets it fall to the floor.

My eyes devour her small, pert breasts. Soft pink areolas crowned by rosy nipples tighten under my gaze, betraying the desire she’s trying so hard to hide.

“You’re beautiful, Leigh.” My voice drops, rough with raw hunger.

She flinches slightly at the compliment but doesn’t back away. Instead, her hands move to the waistband of her panties. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, she hooks her thumbs under the lace. The fabric slides down her legs, pooling at her feet.

Leigh stands before me, entirely bare. Vulnerable and proud. A goddess carved in fire and innocence, and utterly, breathtakingly mine. She’s more incredible than I could’ve imagined.

I rise from my chair, the distance between us shrinking with each step. Leigh looks up at me, her eyes wide, lips parted as if to protest, but no words come.

“You have no idea how perfect you are, ptichka,” I whisper, my hand cupping her cheek, my thumb brushing the soft curve of her jaw.

She shivers at my touch, her lashes lowering. My free hand traces the line of her collarbone, then lower, caressing the delicate curve of her breast. She gasps, her body responding even as her mind struggles to keep control.

I move my hands and cup the soft mounds, my thumb teasing her hard nipples. A little moan echoes in her throat, and my cock responds with a jolt as my lips tease hers.

“Radomir,” she whispers, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “I… I…” She swallows, her eyes glazed with desire. “I haven’t…”

“I know, baby.” I lower my head until our foreheads touch. “‘ll take care of you. Trust me.” My lips skim her ear as I speak, my breath hot against her skin. “Can you do that, ptichka?”

I kiss her—slowly, deeply, pouring every ounce of restraint into that connection as my desire is now almost painful. Her lips are soft and yielding. As she responds to me, I feel her walls begin to crumble. She nods, a single, hesitant movement, her body relaxing under my hands.

“Touch me, Leigh. I want to feel your hands on me.” My hands start to knead her breast, and my thumbs tease her nipples.

“Oh… uuh.” Leigh breathes.

Her eyes drop to watch me play with her breasts. They move to my chest. Her hands reach for me, tentative at first, then more assured as her fingers trace the lines of my shoulders and the muscles of my chest. I groan, the sound low and guttural, as her touch stokes the fire already raging inside me. My lips capture hers once again.

My hands leave her breasts, and without breaking the kiss, I lift her into my arms. She gasps, feeling my rock-hard erection press against her as it tries to escape the confines of my boxer briefs, reaching for her honey pot. Her legs instinctively wrap around my waist. I carry her to the bed, laying her down, her auburn hair spilling across my pillow like a fiery halo.

I pause, drinking in the sight of her beneath me. Her chest heaves, emerald eyes locked on mine, torn between fear and trust. I stand up, holding her gaze, while I pull off my boxer brief and set my aching cock free.

“Oh…” Leigh gasps and reaches out toward my long, sensitive shaft. The moment her hands touch me, it takes everything I’ve got not to explode like a sixteen-year-old schoolboy having sex for the first time.

“Wait, little one,” I grab her hand and lie down beside her.

Chapter 10

LEIGH

I lie on the bed, every nerve attuned to Radomir’s presence. My skin warms where it brushes against his, my heart pounding in an uneven rhythm as I fight to steady my breath. This is all so foreign to me—sharing a bed with a man, being this close, feeling this rush of fear and anticipation swirling inside me.

Radomir rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand as he gazes down at me with those piercing blue eyes. The intensity in them sends a shiver down my spine.

“Relax, krasivaya,” he murmurs, his deep voice like velvet. “I’ll make this easy for you.” He kisses my lips gently with his.

I lick my dry lips. “I know,” I whisper back.

And somehow, despite everything, I do know it deep down. Radomir may be a feared Bratva leader, but there’s something about him—a gentleness as he looks at me now—that makes me feel safe, even as my body trembles.

I hesitate, my fingers brush against the hard, silken steel of his erection. Radomir’s breath hitches, a low, guttural growl rumbling from his chest at my inexperienced touch. Fear jolts through me, and I snatch my hand back, eyes wide.

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