Page 52 of Chained Fate
Real or not, I can’t help smiling at the wifely concern in her tone.“It’s been a minute.But don’t worry, our bed is waiting.”
Whether we’re going to sleep right away is a different story.
As tired as I am, what I’m looking forward to most is sinking deep inside her and hearing her tell me again that she loves me.
Even if it’s a lie.
Chapter26
Alina
Our new residence is everything I’d expected and more.A strikingly modern slate-gray mansion surrounded by immaculately landscaped trees that partially hide the sky-high fences surrounding it, it’s equal parts fortress and architectural marvel.Extending some dozen meters above ground—and, I bet, deep underground—it boasts a flat roof with raised edges (presumably for the guards to have cover if they’re repelling an attack), a front door made of a solid stone slab located deep within a recessed niche, and zero windows.At least as of this moment.
I’m guessing some of the thick walls slide apart to reveal floor-to-ceiling windows when it’s deemed safe.Which is apparently not this evening.
As we approach, the stone-slab door retracts sideways into the wall with a barely audible pneumatic hiss, revealing a foyer that manages to be both imposing and welcoming.The floor is a warm-toned travertine, contrasting with walls paneled in dark, vertically grained wood.Subtle warm light washes down from recessed fixtures, catching the metallic sheen of abstract sculptures placed in rectangular niches.It smells faintly of winter pine and expensive leather, a scent that reminds me of Alexei himself.
A wide archway leads into the main living area.Cathedral-height ceilings arc high above polished concrete floors that are warmed by vast deep-pile rugs in charcoal gray.While one wall is indeed a massive, unbroken surface that likely hides the windows, the others feature integrated shelving units displaying curated objects d’art and strategically placed panels that probably conceal screens or weapon safes.
As Alexei shepherds me through the space toward a glass-and-chrome staircase in the left corner, I notice that the furniture is modern with a cozy vibe—deep sofas upholstered in rich velvet paired with sleek armchairs and glass tables.I also spot small, almost invisible sensors integrated into the ceiling corners, their dark lenses blending seamlessly.
I tear my gaze from them, only to find myself captured by the intense look on Alexei’s face.He’s watching me, assessing my reaction to our surroundings, and the naked hunger in his eyes makes my breath stall in my lungs.All of a sudden, I become aware of the warmth emanating from his strong hand that rests on the small of my back, of the way he’s subtly but determinedly forcing me to move faster as we reach the top of the stairs.
My pulse jacks up, a familiar fire rushing over my skin.Invisible wall or not, he wants me.There’s no doubt about that.Not with the dark heat in his eyes and the coiled tension in his powerful body.
The moment we’re in the bedroom, he’s going to pounce.
A pulsing ache starts between my thighs at the thought, and I find my steps speeding up.And then we’re there, inside the bedroom, and his hands are on me, tearing at my clothes, at his clothes.
With ruthless efficiency, he strips us both naked, then picks me up and carries me to the massive bed in the center of the room, the heat of his body warming me in the cool air.As he walks, I catch a glimpse of movement and realize the wall to my right is a full-wall mirror.
Startled, I glance around.
The opposite wall is mirrored as well, as is the ceiling.
We’re everywhere, our reflections like a live porn stream.
It’s disconcerting.And hot.
Alexei is huge compared to me, all hard, flexing muscle and raw male strength.His inked skin is a dark, intricate tapestry against my paleness.In the mirrors, the coiling dragons on his chest and arms seem to multiply, surrounding me, branding me as property of my demonic lover.
I look small, disturbingly fragile in his embrace, yet I don’t feel unsafe, not even when my eyes return to his and I see the feral hunger on his face.
Our sex may be rough at times, but he will never truly hurt me… not like my father hurt my mother.
I feel it with bone-deep certainty.
He deposits me onto the bed, and before I can do anything, he spreads my knees apart and buries his head between my legs, ravenously lapping at my folds.I gasp, arching up as the warm, wet strokes of his tongue electrify my nerve endings, skyrocketing the tension building inside me.
Panting, I fist the sheets, my gaze glued to the erotic tableau in the ceiling mirror as the orgasm rushes at me like a high-speed train, the sensations cresting suddenly and violently, making me convulse with pleasure.
“Again,” he says hoarsely, not lifting his head, and I feel the thick, prodding pressure of his finger pushing into me.No, two fingers.The stretch is almost too much, but also somehow not enough.I squirm, crying out as an aftershock makes me clench around the invasive digits, and then his tongue returns, wet and soft, dragging over my pulsing clit as his fingers curl inside me, rubbing against my G spot with unerring precision.
I combust again, the second orgasm so sudden and intense it paints my vision white and wrenches another cry from my throat.The sharp throb of pleasure doesn’t end; his fingers stay inside me, pressing and rubbing, pushing me toward the edge again, not letting me catch my breath.I squeeze my eyes shut as he pushes in a third finger, and the stretching sensation intensifies, edging into pain.But it feels good too, especially with his hot, wet tongue lapping at my clit, the soft, slick stroking contrasting with the rough invasion of his fingers.
I come again.Maybe.Or maybe it’s the never-ending aftershocks that make my toes curl and my breath exit on a gasp.
And then I gasp again, clenching hard against a new sensation.
