Page 64 of Dark Embers

Oleksi murmurs, “I'm going to eat my cherries using your pussy as my plate.”

His tongue licks a path of fire over my abdomen, then lower. He eats the cherry from between my legs like it’s the sweetest fruit he’s ever tasted. When he sucks the cream off my clit, I scream. The bindings hold me down, forcing me to surrender to every overwhelming sensation.

His fingers delve into me, sliding against slick, sensitive flesh while his tongue works relentless magic, a dance of velvet against my most intimate places. I come undone, my thirdorgasm crashing through me like a tidal wave, a force of nature that leaves me gasping and shivering.

Before I can catch my breath, his mouth is at my breast again, the heat of his breath mingling with the sticky sweetness of cherry juice. His tongue laves, his teeth graze, his lips worship every inch of me, a symphony of sensations that send electric jolts through my veins.

“Please,” I moan, a sound torn from the depths of my soul. “Please, Oleksi…”

His whisper is a dark caress against the soft skin of my thigh, his fingers dancing a cruel, delicious tease at the edge of my core, never quite touching where I ache for him most. “What do you want, my slutty little pet?”

“You. I want all of you.” The words are a litany, a prayer, a desperate plea.

And then I feel the bed shift again, the mattress dipping under the delicious weight of him above me. The head of his cock presses against my opening, a promise, a threat, as he whispers against my ear, his voice a low growl. “Who do you belong to, my slutty little pet?”

“You…” I whimper, the words a surrender, a confession. “You, Oleksi… sir.” My voice is a plea, a desperate cry as he teases my entrance with the tip of his cock, a torment that leaves me writhing. “I belong to you.”

His body surges forward, plunging into me like a claim, a brand—a searing heat that fills me completely, overwhelming my senses. He starts pounding into me, each thrust deliberate and intense, lowering his lips to my ear as his body knocks against mine, a primal rhythm that echoes through my very core.

“I've let you come three times, my slutty little pet,” Oleksi growls, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends shivers down my spine. “This time, you can't come until I tell you.” His breath is hot against my ear, and his words are an unwavering command. “Don’t displease me.”

“I... I...” I stammer, my voice barely a whisper, caught in the whirlwind of sensation and his dominating presence. “No, sir, I won’t displease you.” My voice wobbles.

Each thrust is a searing torment, a paradise of pleasure and pain, a relentless rhythm that leaves me breathless. I’m tethered between ecstasy and desperation, every fiber of my being straining to obey his brutal, blissful command.

“That's it, my slutty little pet, hold on,” he breathes, the satisfaction in his voice thick like smoke. I hear him groan as his thrusts get more frantic. “Come for me. Come all over my cock.”

He pounds into me, and my world explodes, his name tearing from my lips while he fucks me through my orgasm. Oleksi’s hot seed spills into me, and finally, he stills inside me, each labored breath a white-hot brand across my skin. Slowly, he pulls the sleep mask from my eyes and unties my wrists. Our gazes lock, and he kisses me gently before reaching behind him and loosening my ankles.

Oleksi flops down beside me, pulling me against his chest, and as I cuddle into him, exhausted and spent, I know I am completely his.

CHAPTER 24

Sabrina

Three weeks in Moscow have yielded nothing but dead ends. The hospital we sought burned down fifteen months ago—just two days before Tara begged me to hide her and feign pregnancy. No one has seen or heard from Anya Novikov in over thirty years, not since her youngest daughter died. We speculated that Lidiya Zorin might be Anya's daughter, but Anya had married Timofey Morozova, a highly decorated Russian Army veteran, ruling out that theory.

Compounding my anxiety, upon our arrival in Moscow, Oleksi informed me that my mother, Mark, his aunt Galina, and Nikolas had vanished. Their yacht disappeared near Trabzon, a Turkish port not far from Moscow.

We went to the hotel in Moscow that had my mother's phone, and to our surprise, the room had no registered guests that had stayed there the night the phone was found. But we did find out that the room was permanently booked for a prominent Russian family whose identity remains elusive. Oleksi and Syd have been tirelessly investigating, convinced this family holds the key to our loved ones' disappearance.

Amidst this turmoil, I've been grappling with a personal dilemma—whether to tell Oleksi about Elena. My paranoia has been mounting; I feel we're being followed, though Oleksi's men have found no evidence that we have been. Adding to my stress, I missed my period.

Initially, I attributed it to the chaos around me, but standing in a public bathroom in a Moscow drugstore, five pregnancy tests are glaring back at me and confirm my suspicions. Each one had two pink lines. Well, there is no pretending now.

My breath starts to become shallow as I stare at the sticks.Oh fuck, Oh fuck. I’m really pregnant.Shit! This is the last thing I need right now.

A light rap at the door pulls me back from the brink of a panic attack.

“Sabrina, is everything alright in there?” Ivan’s voice comes through the door.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I call back. I scoop all the evidence into the wastepaper bin, wash my hands, take a deep calming breath, and leave the bathroom.

Ivan waits patiently.

“Are you okay?” Ivan asks again, noting the time I've spent inside.

“Yes,” I lie. “I don't like public bathrooms; it takes me a while.”

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