Then I spin her around so I’m faced with her perfect ass. I lean in and sink my teeth just enough to draw a yelp. She gives a little gasp, but I hold her in place.
When I slap her ass hard, she yelps again, but she still doesn’t pull away. Instead, she arches closer.
“I want you inside me, Leo,” she pleads. “I need to feel you inside me.”
“Then what are you waiting for, kukolka?” I ask. “Sit down.”
I unzip my pants, pull out my dock, and position myself at her entrance. She eases herself over my cock, hands on my thighs for balance, and swallows it whole.
I enter her with a satisfied sigh. Soul-deep. Bone-deep. She feels even tighter at this angle. And as she starts to bounce up and down, picking up speed as she goes, I feel my grip on the reins of my self-control getting dangerously loose.
She grabs the edge of the table and uses that to secure herself as she starts bouncing on my cock. I pull her back into my embrace, her spine against my chest, and capture her earlobe between my teeth.
“Faster,” I breathe.
She rides me like that, moaning and trying not to lose it, one hand encircled around the back of my neck as she holds on for dear life. I watch her ass bounce on my cock, committing every deep thrust to memory.
Once I notice her legs begin to shake, I stand up while still inside her and bend her over against the table. She upends half of our meal in the process, but neither one of us gives a shit at this point. Only one thing matters.
Release.
I slam my hips into her again and again. Her ass cheeks shiver with each thrust.
She grips the tablecloth in her fists. “Please, Leo…”
I wrap a hand around her waist and find her center. The moment my thumb whispers over her, she cries out. Her orgasm syncs with mine perfectly, and we come together. Once I’ve emptied inside her, I stand there, admiring the smooth lines of her back and the beaded sweat like a row of jewels on her neck.
Then, with a mournful sigh, I pull out. I watch with a fierce sense of ownership as she straightens herself shakily. She grabs a napkin off the table and wipes herself off before reaching for her slip dress.
“Jesus,” she gasps, falling back into a chair the moment the dress is in place. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk right for a week.”
I smirk and reach for a piece of bread.
“You don’t have to look so proud, you know,” she adds teasingly.
In response, I look her dead in the eye while I tear off a hunk of bread with my teeth. So much for table manners. She let the savage out of the cage, and it has no interest in going back in.
“Hungry?” she asks, trying to fill the silence.
“Yes, but I’d rather be eating you.”
Even after what we just did, she still blushes. She breaks our heated eye contact and reaches for the wine.
“Do you think she’ll call?” she asks after a long sip to steady herself.
“Willow,” I say gently. “We’re pretending tonight. Normal. Remember?”
She sighs. “It’s easier said than done.”
“It was your idea.”
She takes a deep breath and sips her wine thoughtfully. “Okay. If we’re pretending… tell me where Ariel is right now.”
“She’s in France,” I say without hesitation. “She’s living in a villa in the south, deep in the countryside, no one around for miles. She goes down to the beach and swims in the ocean on the weekends.”
“And during the week?”
“She gardens, when the mood strikes. Paints, too.”
“She paints?”
“She used to,” I say. “In another life. Back when she was with my brother and she smiled all the time.”
“Does she have someone?” Willow asks tentatively. “Is she happy?”
“I want her to be happy,” I say. “But I know she’ll never love anyone like she loved Pavel. It’s more likely she has dozens of lovers dotted all over the continent. One for every day of the week with plenty to spare.”
“Sounds like the life,” she says, giving me a coy smirk. “What about you?”
“What about me?” I ask.
“You’ve spent your entire life as don chasing after revenge,” she points out. “What do you do now that you have it?”
The smile drops from my face. Some things cannot be imagined. They must be lived.
Revenge is one of those things.
“I don’t stop being don just because I killed Belov,” I growl. “In any case, I have two Bratvas to run instead of one.”