Page 69 of Wicked Embers

Inside, the air feels heavier, quieter. The door closes behind us, muffling the lingering sounds of the reception. He pulls me toward the desk, and we sign the register, making it official. As I set the pen down, my eyes are drawn to a photograph on the desk. It’s an old picture of seven men. I recognize Radomir, Oleksi, and Gavriil immediately—their younger faces fierce and familiar. But the others…

A flicker of recognition jolts through me, sharp and unsettling. My chest tightens, and a cold, paralyzing terror floods my veins. My knees start to give way, but I grab the desk to steady myself.You witnessed the deaths of …The names won’t come to me. It’s like a dream when you can’t see someone’s face.

Radomir is beside me in an instant, his presence a solid anchor. “Everyone, out!” he barks, his voice sharp and cutting through the haze. The door creaks open and slams shut again as the others leave, leaving just the two of us in the room.

“Leigh,” he says softly, stepping closer. His tone is different now, low and soothing, and I can feel his concern radiating from him. “Are you alright?”

I force a quick nod, plastering on a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Just getting used to being married,” I say, my voice tight with the lie.

He watches me for a moment longer, his gaze intense, before he walks over to the bar. He pours two glasses of vodka and hands one to me.

“Welcome to my family, Mrs. Molchanov,” he says, his lips curving into a faint smirk as he raises his glass.

“Thank you, Mr. Molchanov,” I reply, the words strange on my tongue.Married. I’m married.

We clink glasses, and I take a sip. The burn of the vodka grounds me, chasing away the lingering cold from the photo. When our eyes meet again, something shifts in the air between us. It’s subtle at first, like the pull of a current, but then it deepens, electrifying.

Before I can process what’s happening, his lips are on mine. His kiss is demanding, consuming, and I’m powerless to resist. I don’t want to resist. The glass slips from my hand, shattering on the floor, but I barely notice. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close, his heat enveloping me as his hands roam over my body.

Radomir lifts me, setting me on the desk. His mouth trails down my neck, leaving a blazing path of fire in its wake. My wedding dress rustles as he pushes the satin up, revealing the delicate lace of my panties. He freezes for a moment, his gaze darkening as he takes me in.

“Magnificent,” he whispers, his voice rough with lust, but there’s a softness underneath it that catches me off guard. His thumb grazes my cheek, his green eyes searching mine, the storm of desire tempered by something deeper. “Are you okay to do this?”

The question surprises me—concern flickers through the molten hunger in his gaze, twisting my heart painfully tight.

I can feel the heat rolling off him, the barely contained need in every line of his body. And yet, he’s giving me a choice. A chance to stop this, to say no.

Dark, hungry desire already pools low in my belly, spreading like liquid fire. I try to speak, but my throat feels locked, the words tangled somewhere in the knot of emotion building inside me. So I stare into his eyes, into the storm of blue, and I nod.

“Yes,” I eventually manage to whisper, my voice soft but certain.

Radomir’s jaw tightens, the faintest hitch of his breath betraying the restraint it takes for him not to lose control. His fingers slip beneath the lace, finding the aching need waiting for him.

“Fuck, you’re sexy, ptichka,” he groans, his lips brushing against my ear as his fingers begin to work me. One circles my clit, sending jolts of pleasure through me, while two slide inside,filling me perfectly. My hips move on their own, grinding against his hand, chasing the release I can feel building.

“Radomir…” I pant, my voice breaking as he pushes me over the edge. His name leaves my lips in a desperate cry, swallowed by his kiss as I shatter beneath him.

He growls low in his throat, his need barely contained as he spreads my thighs wide. His cock presses against my soaked panties, teasing me until the tension is unbearable. With one sharp tug, he rips them off, the sound echoing in the room. His head dips between my legs and latches onto my throbbing pussy.

“Tell me what you want, ptichka,” he says, his voice hoarse and edged with raw desire as he sucks and licks me, driving me crazy. “Do you want my tongue, or do you want my cock deep inside you, driving you to more pleasure?”

“I want…” I struggle to form the words as his tongue flicks over my clit, sending a fresh wave of pleasure crashing through me. “I want your cock,” I finally gasp.

He chuckles darkly, pulling away long enough to yank off his pants. His cock is thick and hard, glistening with precum as he lines himself up. In one brutal thrust, he slams into me, filling me completely. The air rushes from my lungs as I cling to him, the stretch of him perfect and overwhelming.

“Feels good, doesn’t it ptichka?” he growls, his rough hands gripping my hips as he thrusts into me, each stroke harder than the last. “Like you were made just for me.”

“Yes,” I moan, my voice breaking with desperation. “Oh God, yes.”

His thumb finds my clit, circling it in time with his thrusts, and I feel myself spiraling again, the pleasure building to ablinding crescendo. His movements become erratic, his control slipping as his need overtakes him.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with pleasure. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

I fall apart beneath him, my orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave. Stars explode behind my eyes as I cry out his name, my body trembling with aftershocks. Radomir groans deeply, his grip tightening as he thrusts one last time, spilling his heat deep inside me.

He collapses onto me, his weight supported by his elbows as we catch our breath. I lie against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.

There’s no escaping this. No escaping him. And deep down, I know I don’t want to.

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