Chapter 25: Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby: Chapter 24

She said yes.

I bite my lower lip, struggling not to show what her answer is doing to me.

“Alright, baby, I’ll fuck you,” I purr, pressing the tip of my cock to her soaked hole. “With a pussy like that, I bet you can take every inch.”

Katya gasps. She lies back and closes her eyes when I push inside her, balls-deep. I bend her long legs and toss them over my shoulders, folding her until her ankles touch the back of my neck. She cries with pleasure while I continue to stroke her clit. Fuck, she’s way too tight for her own good.

The room fills with the sounds of our fucking, an echo of our moans, grunts, and groans. With her impaled on my cock, and so sweet, warm, and clenching, it’s time to ravish her. She deserves more foreplay, more attention, but it’s time my needs are met too.

I lean forward and press my weight on her, claiming her lips. She shudders, breaking eye contact.

“Making you come again and again is my favorite pastime,” I mumble, letting her taste herself. “I love how your body reacts and how ready you are. Wet and swollen. It makes me the happiest man alive when you cry out for me, volchitsa.”

Her stare penetrates me to my very soul. She bites the side of her bottom lip and blushes. The red cheeks have me wanting to watch her pale face grow pinker the harder I fuck her.

“Do it,” she rasps, her voice a little shaky and higher than normal. “Make me come.” She licks her pouty lips.

“Can’t say no to you.”

I shake my head, and thrust my hips forward, sinking all the way in, and grind against her pelvis until there’s no more space for movement. She mewls softly, then screams as I pull all the way out and piston into her with renewed fervor. Hard and long strokes have her biting on her finger. I wrap my hands around her wrists, bringing them over her head, and pin her to the mattress. My muscles strain at the exertion, moving her faster and rougher until my balls slap hard against her.

Everything’s dark when our gazes meet, and with a loud growl, I call her name, ramming the last inch in. It’s a second before a climax tears through her.

“Oh Igor!” she shouts, spilling the sound down my throat as her entire body tenses in a frenzy of relief.

I feel her pulsate around my cock, and the contractions start milking my own release. After so much time jerking off to the memory of her, spilling myself inside her is a true relief. I rub my engorged dick against her squeezing flesh, feeling raw and depleted, but at peace. I stay inside her for as long as possible.

“Fuck, Katya,” I moan, watching her. “My cock can’t get enough of you.”

For a fraction of a second, everything stops. A shift happens, and something clicks. I cup her delicate face and trace a finger across her brow, the beautiful cheekbones, the proud chin.

“What are you doing?” she asks, shaking her head slightly.

“No. Stop, let me look.” I grin. “Look into those brilliant, clever eyes. You’re captivating. Fierce.”

“I’m not,” she protests weakly.

“A liar and a fighter too.”

She gasps. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I like what I see,” I admit.

“That was… intense,” she tells me, shaking her head. “But it doesn’t change anything between us. This can’t happen again.”

It seems a good thing the dimness of my room hides my eyes because a sharp pain stirs my soul. She doesn’t know me yet; she doesn’t understand what I am offering her.

Her head’s trying to fight this, even though her heart’s already mine. I need to find a way to convince her to take the plunge. Coming home with Galina’s lipstick on my shirt might not have been the best move, so I can’t really blame her for pulling back. But damn, I need her to let me in.

My brow raises. “I’d like to see you stick to that.”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Can you seriously try to resist this? Right now?”

“I mean it,” she replies, turning red.

“Good. Let me remind you what you’re saying no to,” I purr, stroking her bare arms, her breasts, and the small of her waist. “Your body is like a sculptor’s masterwork, and I’m willing to help make it come alive.”

She bites her lower lip, then moves a hand through my hair. Fingers tug on the strands until her touch elicits a moan.

I catch her hand before she can pull away, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Her skin is soft, delicate beneath my lips, and I linger for a moment longer than I should. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Katya. Anything,” I murmur, my voice low but steady.

Her lips curve into a soft smile, so faint it might not even be there. But I see it. I feel it. It paints the edges of her mouth, and for a second, I let myself hope. Hope that she won’t ruin this moment. Hope that, for once, she’ll just let us be.

Her hand brushes through my hair, slow and deliberate, combing the few strands left after I dragged her through the kind of night that should leave us both too weak to argue. Her fingers linger, and in that small moment, I realize something I’ve never fully allowed myself to admit.

It’s her gaze.

That’s what draws me in the most. That’s what I hate the most.

There’s something about the way Katya looks at me—steady, unflinching, and without any of the bullshit I’ve grown used to seeing in other people’s eyes. I’ve often wondered if people notice how much I hold back when I look at them. If they can see that my poker face is a carefully crafted shield, built over years of observation and necessity.

But with Katya? Right now? She sees me. Not the mask, not the image I project, but me. And the worst part is that she doesn’t flinch. The way she looks at me… it’s like she’s impressed. Like she enjoys seeing me without the walls, without the armor.

And it pisses me the fuck off.

Because Katya Volkova is an enigma. The hardest fucking riddle to solve.

“Katya,” I say softly, unsure where to even begin. A thousand words claw at the back of my throat, fighting to escape. I want to tell her everything. Every dark, twisted piece of me. I want her to see all of it, the real me, and still choose to stay.

She shakes her head before I can say more, her fingers slipping away from my hair. “This doesn’t change anything,” she says, her voice quiet but firm.

“But—”

“No,” she cuts me off, her tone sharp enough to slice through the air between us. “I tried giving you a chance… I’m still trying. But it’s hard, Igor. You’re the kind of man who kills for a living. I don’t want me or Sofiya to be a part of it. This was a mistake.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. My chest tightens, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at her. “A mistake?” I repeat, disbelief heavy in my voice. “It didn’t feel like a mistake to me. I want this, Katya. We both do. Let me in. I will shield you. I will make you happy.”

“It was a great fuck,” she says, pushing away from me, the shift in her body language like a slap. “We’re both adults. We’re attracted to each other, and we have needs. There’s nothing wrong with helping each other. This once. But it doesn’t mean we’re a couple. Or that we will ever be a family.”

I sit up, the muscles in my jaw clenching so hard I can feel the ache radiating through my skull. “I understand,” I say, my tone cold and clipped. But inside, I’m anything but calm.

Shit. The audacity. The nerve.

She thinks this was just sex? That we can have that—and then walk away like it was nothing? Like she didn’t feel the same fire I did?

No.

She’s insane if she thinks I’ll settle for anything less than everything. I’m the one who decides what this is, and it’s not just sex.

Katya gets up and grabs her nightgown, her back to me, but before she can slip away, I grab her wrist, yanking her against me. Her body tenses, and for a moment, the only sound is the heavy rhythm of our breathing.

“Listen to me very closely, volchitsa, because I’ll only say this once,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. “If I catch you practicing ‘just sex’ with someone else, I’ll kill them. You might not admit it yet, but you’re mine. Only mine. You’ll do well to remember that.”

Her face is unreadable as she stares at me, and the lack of reaction is almost worse than if she’d slapped me. She doesn’t argue, doesn’t scream, doesn’t flinch. She simply nods, yanks her wrist free from my grip, and walks away.

She moves quickly, pulling the nightgown over her head as she goes.

“Careful,” I hiss, a grin curling at the corner of my mouth as I watch her retreating figure. “You might be leaving this room, but that doesn’t change a thing. We’re in this together now, and you’d better be prepared to take care of my needs just as I do yours.”

My tone carries a barely concealed threat, but she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even turn around. With a dismissive wave of her hand, she disappears through the door, her footsteps fading down the hall.

I lie back against the bed, the linen crumpled and still carrying her scent. The minutes drag on, and my mind sways between two opposing forces—the right thing and the thing I want most. And the truth is, in a situation like this, the two are mutually exclusive.

I sigh, running my fingers over the wrinkled sheets. All I can think about is how spectacular she felt wrapped around my cock. So tight, just like I remember. Unable to resist the need to touch, I stroke my flaccid manhood until it’s erect again. Wrapping my fingers around the shaft, I jerk it slowly, savoring the memory of her wet heat. It doesn’t take long for me to rub and grab hard, twisting and tugging at the head until I squirt, biting down on the pillow to smother my groans.

Maybe things will change.

Maybe Katya will learn how it feels to have a man who treats her like a queen. Because I’m the one for her, whether she knows it or not.