Page 36 of Owned By the Russian

She tilted her head slightly, studying him in a way that made his skin prickle. “Must be exhausting,” she said softly.

Ilya raised an eyebrow, not expecting that. “What?”

“Carrying that around. Always feeling like you have something to prove.” Her voice wasn’t mocking, wasn’t pitying?it was matter-of-fact, and that unsettled him more than anything. “It reminds me of my brother, Enrico. He’s the oldest, just like you. Always so serious and grumpy. People think he’s scary, but I just think he has too many responsibilities on his shoulders to be frivolous.”

Ilya’s lips twitched at the comparison, though he couldn’t decide if he found it amusing or frustrating. “Is that your way of saying I’m grumpy and scary?”

Her eyes sparkled faintly with humor, but her tone remained serious. “I’m saying maybe you’re more like him than you realize. Enrico always says he’s fine, that he’s ‘used to it’. But he’s not. No one really gets used to it.”

Ilya stabbed at the lasagna on his plate, turning her words over in his head. “You learn to carry it,” he said after a moment, his tone even. “That’s what you get used to. Doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

Valentina leaned back in her chair, watching him carefully as though seeing a side of him she hadn’t seen before. “And does carrying it ever get lighter?”

He looked up, meeting her gaze across the table. For once, he didn’t have a quick answer. Instead, he offered the faintest shrug. “Depends on the day.”

A beat of silence passed between them, the words lingering in the air. Then Valentina picked up her fork again, her tone lightening as she muttered, “You and Enrico really are the same. I don’t know whether to feel bad for him or for you.”

A reluctant smile tugged at Ilya’s lips. “Feel bad for him. He’s stuck with you as a sister.”

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the tiniest smile she tried to hide behind her fork. For the first time since the whole ambush escapade, the tension between them seemed to ease.

He realized there and then that he hadn’t opened up to anyone like this, not even to his brothers. As much as he didn’t want to overanalyze the situation, it struck something within him and lingered there like an unwanted ember, stubbornly refusing to burn out.

Chapter 13 - Valentina

In Valentina’s dreams, Ilya was there, his head buried between her thighs, his broad shoulders holding her open as though he had all the time in the world to unravel her. The rough scrape of his stubble against her sensitive skin sent shivers coursing through her.

Her fingers slid into his hair, tangling desperately in the roots, tugging him closer, silently begging for more. His hot, insistent mouth fucked her with an almost punishing rhythm, each flick and suck of his tongue sending shockwaves rippling through her body.

His large hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he flattened his tongue over her folds, wantonly dragging up and down. She tugged harder on his hair, rolling her hips against his mouth, toes curled as she chased every sensation he so generously gave.

The low groans vibrating from his throat matched the breathless moans that escaped her lips as the room blurred together. She arched beneath him while he devoured her like a man starved. Her breath came in ragged bursts as he ruthlessly pushed her to her peak, the slick sounds of his mouth, his low, guttural hums of satisfaction, only driving her higher.

And when it hit?when he finally set her over the edge?it was like a thunderstorm breaking inside her, her cries sharp and desperate as her thighs quaked around his head. He didn’t relent, his mouth and tongue coaxing her through every wave of her release until she was left trembling and breathless.

Then he pulled back, his lips glistening and his dark, hooded eyes locking onto hers, holding her captive, and she felt her heart lurch. He rose over her like a Greek god, one hand trailing up her thigh in a way that made her burn all over again, while the other tugged at his unbelievably hard cock, wrapping around it snugly and stroking slowly, curling his thumb over the dripping tip, all the while maintaining eye contact on her trembling frame beneath him.

A wicked smirk appeared on his lips as he stroked harder. “You have no idea how good you look like this,” he murmured, his thick Russian accent coating his words, “breathless and sweaty. Like the good little slut, you are.”

He leaned down, grazing his teeth over her thigh as he smeared his wetness over her dripping entrance. “How badly do you want my cock,Printsessa? How badly do you want me to fuck you right now?”

His body pressed flush against hers, parting her thighs wider as words stuck in her throat. “Tell me,” he continued, his voice a murmur caressing her ears. “How willing are you to beg for it?”

Before she could respond, she woke up with a sharp gasp, the sheets tangled around her legs and her heart pounding erratically in her chest. Her skin was flushed, damp with sweat, as the remnants of the dream lingered, vivid and all too real.

She glanced around as though trying to confirm if she was really alone in the room. Then she ran a shaky hand through her hair as reality set in. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, her breaths uneven and her thighs still trembling from the phantom touch of him.

Valentina pressed her palms to her face, trying to will away the heat and unmistakable ache that settled low in her belly, her throbbing clit as she crossed her legs on the bed, but the memory of the dream refused to fade.

She lay still for a moment, the vivid remnants of the dream swirling in her mind, her body buzzing with a need she couldn’t ignore. Her breaths came shallow as her hand hesitated beneath the blanket, her fingers brushing against the hem of her pajama shorts. She swallowed hard, debating with herself, but the lingering heat in her belly was insistent, a pull too strong to deny.

Before she could let common sense crash into her, she slipped her shorts down her hips, the cool air against her heated sex making her shiver. Her fingers trembled as they grazed over her sensitive clit, a sharp gasp escaping her at the touch. The echoes of Ilya’s mouth on her?his intensity?his teeth pulling at her clit, clung to her like a fever, her body reacting to every phantom sensation.

Her fingers slid lower, tracing her folds, slick and sticky, wetness pooling at her pussy. She bit her lip, her back arching slightly off the mattress as she gave in, slowly sliding up and down her wet folds, curling around her clit and rubbing tight circles, guided by the memory of his dark blue eyes, his glistening lips, the way he seemed to worship and degrade her all at once in her dreams.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned breathlessly, a broken gasp escaping her lips as she stroked faster, tipping her head back into the pillows as she screwed her eyes shut.

She could almost feel Ilya’s hot breath fanning her clit, his tongue darting in and out of her, flicking and sucking. She could hear him teasing her, taunting, groaning.

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