Page 64 of Stalk Me

“You don’t know what you do to me.” My grip on her tightens, spinning her around.

I gently shove, and she falls back onto the mattress.

My mind is clouded with lust as I position myself between her thighs, nudging her knees apart with my hips. Her slick core glistens, inviting, and I let the head of my cock tease her entrance, making her writhe.

“Nikolai, please.” Her voice is breathless, eager. “I need you now.”

This woman brings me to my knees without even trying. No one has ever affected me so deeply, so completely. She crawls under my skin and makes her home in my heart.

The realization sends a rush of possessiveness through me, and I thrust into her hard, burying myself to the hilt. She cries out, back arching, and her nails dig into my shoulders. Our eyes meet, and for a brief moment, the world beyond this room ceases to exist. Mymalishkawrapped around me in perfect unity.

I begin to move, my rhythm primal, driven by the need to stake my claim. She matches me, her hips rocking to meet each of my thrusts. Her fingers find my hands, lacing our fingers together as she moans my name like a prayer.

“You’re mine,” I growl, kissing her mouth fiercely.

Our tongues dance, mirroring the rhythm of our bodies. She tastes of passion and decadence, a potent aphrodisiac that pushes me closer to the edge. Her inner walls flutter, clenching around me, and I know she’s close.

“Come for Daddy,malishka.” I nip at her earlobe, dragging my teeth down her neck. “Let me feel you shatter.”

Her fingernails bite into my skin, tiny crescents of pain that only fuel my arousal. With each thrust, I graze that sweet spot deep within her, our bodies in perfect sync.

Her climax hits as fast as a lightning strike, and my name tears from her lips. The force of her orgasm sends me over the edge. I plunge into her, deep and fierce, my release exploding through me.

I roar her name while her muscles clench around me, milking every last drop from my body. The force of it steals my breath, leaving me weak and triumphant.

I collapse onto the bed beside her, pulling her into my arms. Our chests heave, sweat-dampened skin sticking together, and I stroke her hair, marveling at our connection.

“You okay?” I brush her damp hair from her forehead, concerned that I pushed her too far.

The silence hits me first. My brain, still hazy from Sofia, takes a moment to process the sudden absence of the alarms. Years of training kick in, and I snap to attention, cursing myself for losing focus.

“Did you hear that?” I pull away from Sofia, my senses heightening as I scan the room.

She nods, her eyes alert despite our recent activities. The quiet feels wrong, heavy with potential threats. In all my years running the organization, I’ve never let my guard down during an active situation. Yet here I am, caught up in Sofia’s orbit, forgetting protocol.

My phone alerts me to a text from Erik.

Perimeter secured. Five hostiles were detained. No casualties.

Relief floods me, but it’s tinged with frustration at my lapse. I’m Nikolai Ivanov. I don’t lose control. I don’t forget my surroundings. I don’t let anything cloud my judgment during an operation.

But Sofia... she makes me forget myself. Makes me reckless. Makes me human.

“Your security team handled it?” Sofia asks, reading the shift in my posture.

“Yes.” I run a hand through my hair, composing myself. “Erik and Dmitri’s teams neutralized the threat.”

The admission costs me something—this acknowledgment that she affects me enough to make me careless. In our world, carelessness gets people killed. Yet here I am, dropping my guard when I should be coordinating our defense.

I glance at her, wondering if she realizes how unprecedented this is. How no one has ever made me forget myself like this. The thought should terrify me, but I find myself drawn closer to her, even as my tactical mind screams about vulnerability and weakness.

24

SOFIA

My phone buzzes against the mahogany desk in Nikolai’s study, where I’ve been catching up on gallery emails. Tash’s name flashes across the screen.

“Sofia, you need to hear this.” Her voice carries an edge I rarely hear. “Two men came into the gallery asking about you. Not the usual art collector type.”

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