by Sadie Moss
“Oh, shit! This is going to be all over social media,” Cam whispers gleefully.
I’m a little less gleeful. My heart feels like a lump in my chest, and I’m half tempted to check my pulse to make sure it’s still beating at all.
I knew Dmitri was going to refuse to marry Anastasia, but I didn’t know he was going to make quite such a big… production of it. He’ll be as good as disowned for this, and it breaks my heart.
Yeah, I know, I should be glad he’s cutting ties with two toxic people who don’t deserve him. But they’re still his parents. And I know how it feels to wish, even against your better judgment, that your parents will wake up and realize how shitty they were and will do better. To my own surprise, I wished my father would do that when our paths crossed again a few months ago.
I can’t help but worry that Dmitri, as angry as he is with his parents right now, might regret this someday. Or that he’ll want reconciliation or for them to change their minds, and they won’t.
He’s burning his bridges with them, and I admire the courage it takes to do that, but it also makes me want to hug him and never let him go.
“Damn. I didn’t know he had it in him.” Cam chuckles as Dmitri says something insulting about his dad.
“He must have been planning this the entire time,” Asher says quietly. “He must have known… that this was the only way to really get out of it.”
Cam’s brows pull together. “What do you mean?”
Roman looks at Asher as if to say go on. I know he’s put the pieces together, just like I have, but he’s clearly not up for explaining it.
“Anything less than this probably wouldn’t have worked,” Asher says. “Even getting up in front of everyone in the church and saying ‘no’ when it came time for the vows wasn’t enough. His dad would just find some way to coerce him into it or force him to go through with it. But this?” He gestures to the screen, where Dmitri is still airing his family’s dirty laundry, publicly roasting both of his parents. “It’s putting his father and mother on the spot in front of people they’d do anything to impress. And after that kind of humiliation…”
“There’s no coming back from it,” I add softly. “Now everyone in that church knows the wedding is a sham that was forced on Dmitri and Anastasia. The only way his parents can save face is to let it go. But he’ll basically be disowned after this.”
Cam’s jaw drops as he processes what we just told him, and then the same flicker of sadness I feel gleams in his eyes. He knows better than anyone how much it sucks to lose your family.
Roman pulls out his phone and types out a quick text. “I’ll let him know where we are. I’m sure he won’t want to stick around long after he finishes.”
We fall into silence as we watch the live video continue to play on the screen. A few moments later, Dmitri begins to wrap up his impromptu speech.
“Well, I guess there’s not much more to say except ‘goodbye’. I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but I think you all know by now that’s not true.” He looks over at his once bride-to-be. “I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this, Anastasia. I hope you know this isn’t your fault at all. This is on me. I just can’t marry you.”
Anastasia blinks her wide blue eyes, dipping her head in a nod. She’s pretty—gorgeous, really—but it doesn’t even occur to me to feel jealous of her. She doesn’t want Dmitri any more than he wants her, and mostly, I just feel sorry for her that her parents dragged her to the altar without even asking her what she wanted.
Dmitri kisses her on the cheek, gives his father a sarcastic salute, and then saunters down the aisle out of the church.
He must get Roman’s text at some point during his exit, because a moment later he’s hustling out, and the next thing I know, he’s sliding into the back of the car, cramming me in between him and Asher.
He leans forward toward the driver’s seat. “Get us the fuck out of here.”
Roman’s mouth twitches in amusement. “This is the one time I’ll take orders from you.”
We drive off into—well, I’d like to say the sunset, but actually we drive off into the mid-afternoon sun.
Away from Dmitri’s old life.
Chapter 2
“Nice of you guys to come,” Dmitri says as we drive back to Roman’s house.
Roman inherited the large mansion from his family, and it’s where we’ve been staying all summer. Maddy’s staying there too, although not at the moment—she’s in the city with some friends for the day.
“Of course.” Cam turns around to grin at Dmitri over his shoulder. “Wish we’d known you were going to pull an epic stunt like that though. I thought you were just gonna quietly refuse to marry her.”
“Quiet wouldn’t have driven the point home like I needed it to.” Dmitri gives a small shrug. “That’s one thing my father taught me—if you want to make sure something sticks, do it publicly.”
“I’m proud of you,” Roman says quietly from the front seat.
The dark-haired mage beside me blushes ever so slightly. I know he looks up to Roman a lot. They’re very similar, and God knows Dmitri’s had a shit time with the main male role model in his life—and he has no siblings to fill that void either.
The rest of the drive is pretty quiet. We’re all taking our cues from Dmitri, and he’s not speaking much, so neither do we. I can tell he’s sorting through a lot of emotions, but I don’t think he’s ready to talk about any of them yet.
Finally, Roman pulls into the driveway of his sprawling house, and we all get out.
“I’m just…” Dmitri jerks his chin up toward the second floor, then walks inside.
Cam frowns, staring after him with furrowed brows. “Um, I was going to suggest we bust out the champagne or something. Does he not want to celebrate?”
Asher and Roman look at each other. “I’m sure his feelings are… complicated,” Ash says, ever the diplomat.
“You should go to him,” Roman adds, but he’s not talking to Cam. He’s looking at me.
My heart throbs in my chest as I glance over at the front door. “Um… do you really…”
He nods. “I do, Reckless. You’re the person he wants to see right now.”
“I’m not sure he wants to see anyone.”
Dmitri just made a huge decision, one that’s likely going to change his entire life. And he’s a private person by nature—he must want time to process all of this on his own, right?
Roman gives me a fond look. “Trust me. If I were him, I’d want you there.”
Well, I suppose I might as well try.
Even before I make the conscious decision, I’m already moving, my body way ahead of my brain when it comes to Dmitri. Roman’s right. I need to be with him right now, even if he’s not ready to talk. Even if we just sit in silence—or, hell, even if I just sit outside his door.
He needs to know I’m here for him.
I enter the house, which is now so familiar it feels more like home than my old apartment with Maddy ever did, and head up the stairs.
Each of the guys has their own room. I tend to rotate between them, but I also have my own bedroom for nights where I just want to be by myself. I value my independence and my privacy—always have—and after sharing a small one-bedroom apartment with my sister for years, it’s nice to finally have a place of my own to go to when I want.
My footsteps slow as I near Dmitri’s door, and I take a second to wrangle my own wild emotions under control before I lift my hand to knock.
But before my knuckles strike the wood, the door is wrenched open—as if Dmitri has been standing on the other side this whole time, waiting for me, hoping for me to arrive.
He’s loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top couple buttons of his crisp white shirt. His suit jacket is gone, and his sleeves are rolled up his forearms. The dark, almost black strands of his hair are in disarray, as if he’s been running his hands through them repeatedly. He looks dangerous and wild, and when his gaze lands on me, s
omething sparks in his eyes.
His hand closes around my wrist, which is still poised in the air from my aborted attempt at knocking, and he yanks me inside the room. I hear the heavy slam of the door a second before I’m pressed up against it, and then all my senses zero in on a single thing—Dmitri.
Our lips meet in a desperate, almost violent kiss as his body covers mine, his thigh slipping between my legs. The solid muscle of his leg grinds against my clit, and I make a startled, pleading noise in the back of my throat. Dmitri swallows the sound before delving his tongue deeper into my mouth like he’s searching for more of those moans back there.
I give him one. In fact, I give him several.
Breathless gasps and moans fall from my lips as I try to keep up with the torrent of sensations crashing through me. My hands are in Dmitri’s hair, mussing it up even more as I clutch the strands, hanging on for dear life.
I wasn’t expecting this.
On the way up here, I was bracing myself for the possibility that he wouldn’t even let me inside the room. I was prepared to sit with him in silence for as long as he needed, to offer whatever strength I could while he sorted through the mess of emotions that must be tearing his heart apart right now.
But if this is how Dmitri wants to deal with his grief, if this is what helps him, I’ve got no objections whatsoever.
“Fuck, Princess,” he groans, finally pulling his mouth away from my swollen, tingling lips to attack my neck and jaw with the same ferocity. “I need you. I need you so fucking much.”
“I—need you—too.”
The words stutter out of my mouth as I shamelessly ride the thick muscles of his thigh, clutching at his shoulders and biceps as I angle my head to let him suck and bite my neck.
Dmitri is hot as fuck. His dark hair is shiny and thick, and he has a sharp jawline, full lips, and broody, smoldering eyes. His shoulders are broad, and he’s got the sculpted, lean muscles of a fighter—and I’ve seen him use those muscles in action when he and I spar, which only makes them hotter.
I’m crazy attracted to this man, but when I tell him I need him, I’m not just talking about his looks or the intense sexual chemistry that simmers between us all the time.
I’m talking about him.
Everything that is Dmitri Mikhailov—I need all of it in my life.
That thought makes me realize how close I came to losing him today. If he hadn’t been strong enough to stand up to his father, if he hadn’t chosen what he wanted over his ridiculous family obligations, Dmitri could be married to another woman right now.
Something seizes inside my chest, and I grab his head and haul it back up to mine, kissing him again like it’s the last time we’ll ever get to do this.
It won’t be.
It won’t.
But I’m having a hard time getting that message through to my heart—and maybe Dmitri feels the same way, because he kisses me back like he’s trying to eat me alive. Like the only way to make sure the world never tears us apart is to consume each other completely, to meld our souls into one.
His body moves against mine as he kisses me, and I’m so close to coming already, so close to losing it just from the feel of his mouth on mine and his leg between my thighs. But I don’t want to come this way. I want him inside me when I do.
Forcing my muscles to cooperate, I wedge my hands between our bodies and start working on his button and fly. He realizes what I’m doing and backs away a little, allowing me enough space to pull his zipper down. Our lips are still fused together, our panting breaths filling the room as he slips his hands under my knee-length skirt, hooking his fingers into my panties and yanking them down.
“God, I love that you wore a dress,” he grunts.
“Me too,” I mutter back.
I’m pushing down his pants, sliding my hand over the velvety skin of his cock, when he slips two fingers inside me.
“Fuck! Dmitri!”
My head drops back against the door as my spine arches, my hips gyrating against his hand.
He pumps in and out a few times, working my clit with the heel of his hand, and I’m so wet for him already, I can feel myself coating his fingers.
He’s breathing hard when he finally withdraws them from me, and he grunts when I squeeze his cock. His nostrils flare as he brings his hand to my face, brushing his fingertips over my lips. I can taste myself on him already, and when he pushes his fingers into my mouth, I suck them in greedily, swirling my tongue around them as my gaze locks on his.
Before he can pull them out, I bite down—not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to hurt a little. His dark eyes dilate, and when my teeth finally release his fingers, he draws them slowly out of my mouth.
“Lift up your skirt, Princess,” he commands, his voice a low growl.
My heart leaps and my core clenches at the sound of his voice. Without hesitation, I do as he says, pulling the hem up to my waist so that cool air hits my naked pussy.
His gaze flashes down, soaking up the sight of me, and I can tell he’s holding onto his control by a thread. The desperate, fast movements that drove him when I first entered the room have slowed, but that only means there’s more pent up desire behind every move he makes—like a dam about to burst.
With agonizing slowness, he runs his large palms across my hips, over the bare skin of my ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh. When he reaches the backs of my thighs, his grip tightens.
“Hold onto me. Don’t let go.”
With those words, he lifts me up, keeping my back pressed against the door. And before I can think, before I can speak or beg or demand he fuck me already, the head of his cock finds my entrance and he surges forward.
My legs hook around his waist automatically, and once again, I do what he commanded, wrapping my arms tightly around his shoulders.
The thin thread of his control snaps—or maybe it burns to ash in the inferno that flares between us. We each bury our faces in the other’s neck, wrapping our bodies up in a tight knot as he fucks me hard and fast against the door.
Dmitri and I don’t always communicate through words—although we’re getting better at that—but we’re communicating plenty right now.
I need him.
He needs me.
And we have each other.
“You’re the one I want. Always you, Princess. Always you,” he mutters against my skin in between kisses, licks, and bites.
I’ll have some pretty obvious hickies later, I know I will, but at the moment, I don’t give a fuck. I give back as good as I get, biting and sucking his skin too, making sure the whole damn world will know he’s mine.
His thrusts grow even harder, the rhythm more staccato, and when he slams in deep and grinds his hips against mine, pulsing inside me, I finally stop trying to hold off the orgasm that’s been threatening to overtake me.
My muscles lock up as I moan and writhe against him, working my clit against his pelvic bone and driving my first orgasm straight into a second one.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I chant, because I become very articulate during mind-blowing sex.
“Oh, fuuuck…” Dmitri groans, because obviously, he does too.
With a few more aftershocks that quake through my entire body, my muscles unclench, going deliciously limp. We stay wrapped up in each other for several long moments, just breathing into the silence as our heartbeats slow down.
Finally, Dmitri lifts his head from the crook of my neck, leaning back a little to look into my eyes. The almost manic desperation I saw in his expression earlier has faded, although it’s not entirely gone. Something warm and possessive is there now too, and it makes me smile.
He captures that smile with a kiss, and I can feel one curving his lips too as they press against mine. When he speaks, there’s a touch of humor in his voice.
“I’m gonna need to do that again. With a lot fewer clothes on next time.”
“No objections here,” I shoot back, nipping at his bottom lip as I squeez
e my inner walls around his cock, which hasn’t softened at all.
He lets out a low growl and hauls me away from the door, turning and stalking toward the bed before laying me on the mattress, following me down with his cock still buried inside me.
And just like he promised, we do it all over again.
Slower. Deeper.
With a lot fewer clothes.
By the time our second round finishes, we’re both sweaty and exhausted. My body feels boneless, and the knot of fear that tightened my stomach all summer has finally dissipated.
It’s going to be okay.
I knew his plan all along was to refuse to marry Anastasia, but I think part of me still honestly feared his dad would find a way to trick or coerce him into it. I’ve heard enough of Dmitri’s stories about his parents to know they’re capable of some high-level emotional manipulation.
But he didn’t let that happen. He came back to me. I have him back.
“How’s Anastasia doing?” I whisper.
Dmitri told me a while ago that Anastasia wasn’t a fan of this whole “marrying a stranger” plan, either. She’s apparently a sweet girl, according to him, just very shy and quiet. She struggles to stand up to her parents, something Dmitri can relate to.
“She was one hundred percent on board,” he says with a small grin. “I asked her if she wanted to say anything, but she said no.”
“I hope this gives her the courage to stand up to her parents too.”
He hums in agreement. “Maybe she will someday. But this way, it’s all on me. Her parents were there—they saw my speech. They won’t blame her for ending it, so she was able to get out of marrying me without breaking ties to her family.”
“That’s very noble of you. To be the one to take the fall, so to speak.”
Dmitri snorts. “That’s the last thing I ever thought I’d be called. Noble.”
“But you are.” I take a deep breath, resting my chin on his chest as I peer up at his face. “How are you feeling?”
Dmitri stares up at the ceiling. “I’m… not sure.” He glances at me, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he suspects maybe I’m having second thoughts about all of this. “Why, Princess? How are you feeling?”