Page 16 of The Mafia's Quintuplets

"Yes." I gasp, internal muscles clenching around him as a second orgasm approaches with astounding speed. "Don't stop."

His rhythm increases as his control visibly unravels when his own pleasure builds. He slides a hand between us, finding my clit with unerring precision and circling in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation pushes me rapidly toward the edge a third time.

"Please come for me," he says hoarsely, his accent thickening with arousal. "Let me feel you."

The combination of his words, his touch, and the relentless pressure inside triggers yet another release, which shocks me. I come apart beneath him, inner walls pulsing around his cock as pleasure crashes through me in waves. I've never managed to come more than twice before. He follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he drives Deeply one final time, tensing above me as he finds his own completion.

Our breathing gradually synchronizes in the quiet aftermath. When he finally moves, it's with reluctance to dispose of the condom before returning to pull me close to him again.

I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow down to a meandering pace. He wraps an arm around my waist, holding me close, as though afraid I might disappear. I have no plan to leave.

"Are you always this quiet afterward?" I break the comfortable silence eventually.

"Are you always this talkative?" His chest rumbles with quiet laughter.

I prop myself up on an elbow to look at him properly. His features appear softer in the aftermath of pleasure, and he appears more approachable. "I'm processing. This isn't exactly a typical Friday night for me."

"Nor for me." His hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear with unexpected tenderness.

"Really?" I can't keep the skepticism from my voice. "A man with access to a private suite above the most exclusive club in Manhattan doesn't regularly entertain company here?"

"The suite comes with certain business arrangements." His expression shutters slightly. "As I said, I've never been in here before."

"So, I'm a personal matter?" I keep my tone light, though the question carries weight.

He considers his answer carefully. "You're certainly not business."

I accept this non-answer with a small smile, settling back against his chest. "Good."

We remain like this for some time, the quiet intimacy almost more unfamiliar than the physical act that preceded it. His fingers trace abstract patterns along my spine, raising pleasant goosebumps in their wake. I find myself studying the scars on his chest, wondering about the stories behind them but sensing they belong to a reality I shouldn't probe.

My eyelids grow heavy from the combination of physical exertion, emotional intensity, and earlier alcohol intake. I fight it briefly, not wanting to waste these precious hours sleeping, but eventually surrender to the comforting rhythm of Maxim's breathing beneath my cheek.

My last coherent thought before dozing off is that tomorrow, I'll return to being responsible, predictable Willemina. Tonight, in this luxurious bubble suspended above the city, I've discovered a version of myself I never knew existed, a woman capable of passion, impulse, and connection with a mysterious stranger, who sees something in me worth wanting.

Whether that discovery proves liberating or dangerous remains to be seen.

7

Mak

Iwake before dawn, my body conditioned through years of vigilance to never sleep too deeply or too long. The first thing I register is warmth pressed against my side, and the unfamiliar weight of another person sharing my space. Willemina sleeps peacefully, her dark hair spilling across my chest, one hand curled loosely over my heart.

I study her face in repose, memorizing details I missed in the heat of last night’s encounter. There's a small scar near her hairline that's barely visible, making me curious how she got it. Then I notice the perfect arch of her eyebrows, and the slight part of her lips as she breathes. She looks younger in sleep, unburdened by the responsibility she wears like armor during waking hours.

Something tightens in my chest. It's an unfamiliar sensation that takes me a moment to identify as tenderness. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything resembling gentleness for anyone but Zina that the emotion feels almost foreign, like a language I once knew but have long since forgotten how to speak.

My phone vibrates silently on the nightstand. Carefully, I extricate myself from Willemina’s embrace, easing her head onto the pillow without waking her. She makes a small sound of protest before settling deeper into sleep. I watch her for a moment longer before retrieving my phone.

I find three messages from Leonid:

Fedor looking for you. Told him you left with security detail.

Kazanovs asking questions about last night’s meeting. Expecting follow-up.

Shipment arriving early. Needs authorization by 11 a.m.

Reality intrudes like an unwelcome guest. I glance at the time to find it’s only 5:43 a.m. The brief reprieve is ending as my real world reclaims me with its endless demands and dangers.

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