Sweet Riddle

IVAN

And here I am... naked again, holding Katya in my arms, in my bed—and better than everything—she's naked too.

I don't know what it is, but for the first time in my life, I want to protect a woman after fucking her.

Maybe I'm crazy for falling in love with a woman I'm only supposed to be married to for a year, but—

My thoughts are disrupted when she suddenly shifts onto her back.

Fuck. Those perfect tits...

She stretches, arching her back, and I watch as she slowly wakes up—her body bathed in the faint morning light, her curves against my black sheets, the vanilla scent of her perfume still lingering in the air.

She smiles slightly, leaning down to place a soft kiss on my lips.

Fuck.

I grab her aggressively, pulling her back on top of me.

"'Morning to you too," she says amused.

"Ty menya pogubish', ty zhe znayesh' eto, da?" I murmur, bringing her lips closer to mine until we are only inches apart. ("You will destroy me, you know that, right?")

"Destroy you?",she raises an eyebrow, her expression shifting into a knowing smirk.

Before I can open my mouth to correct her, she lifts her hips and sinks down onto my cock, sliding me inside her in one smooth motion.

A surprised groan rips from my throat.

Fuck.

I grab her hips, pushing harder, deeper, until I feel like there's no more room for me inside her tight, wet pussy.

"Fuck," she whispers, her breath ragged, and I lose control.

I grip her waist and thrust up into her, fucking her hard, relentless. Her body responds perfectly, her walls tightening around me, her moans growing desperate.

"Don't you dare," I growl, "I haven't allowed you yet."

She places her hands on my chest, her nails digging into my skin, dragging down hard enough to sting. A small, pained growl escapes my throat, but it only makes me pound into her harder.

I fist my hand in her hair, pulling her head back as she arches for me.

Fuck. This fucking body.

"Please, Ivan... I can't hold it anymore."

Her voice trembles, her body trembling along with it, on the edge of breaking.

Fuck. Her pleas. The way she says my name—fuck.

I lean in, my lips brushing her ear as I whisper, "Konchay dlya menya, moya malen'kaya shlyushka." ("Come for me, my little slut.")

She gasps, shocked, but any protest dies in her throat as I pick up the pace, driving into her deeper.

And then, she breaks.

My girl shatters around me, moaning, shaking, gasping as she comes apart in my arms.

I feel the pressure at the base of my cock snap. I pull out, stroking myself, and come hard, my release spilling between us.

KATYA

I struggle to steady my breath as he cum, his release hot between us.

Am I crazy for wanting to watch this man masturbate?

Oh my god. Stop thinking so much, Katya!!!

"You're so beautiful," Ivan murmurs, pressing a kiss to my stomach before stretching over to the nightstand. He grabs a few napkins, cleaning me—and himself—without hesitation.

The moment he's done, I lean into him, resting my head against his chest with an exhausted sigh.

But just as my body starts to relax, I feel him pulling away.

"Get up. We're busy today."

Yup. There it is.

The dark and heartless Ivan is back.

And here we are, in the backseat of Ivan's black van. The morning light barely filters through the tinted windows as Dimitri drives us to The Den.

It's still early—barely past sunrise—and the city is quiet, but I can already feel the weight of the day pressing down on me.

I stare out the window, trying to ignore Ivan sitting beside me. He's already in his typical brooding state, his expression cold, his mood locked down. Not that I care. I've learned how to deal with it.

Dimitri, on the other hand, is in an annoyingly good mood. He's humming some song under his breath, something lighthearted and completely out of place. Then he catches my eye in the rearview mirror and smirks like he's about to start trouble.

"Hey, Katya," he drawls, his tone amused, "did Ivan finally tell you his secret recipe for misery?"

I blink at him.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"His brooding," Dimitri says, grinning. "It's a special talent. A gift, really."

I snort.

"Oh, trust me. I've been subjected to plenty of his 'talent.'"

Dimitri chuckles, but Ivan doesn't react. I know better than to expect a response from him right now. The guy is practically an emotional black hole.

Dimitri, of course, takes that as an invitation to keep talking.

"You two are a real sight, you know? The silent treatment, all that tension... Reminds me of two cats who can't decide if they want to fight or fuck."

I choke on my own breath.

"Dimitri, I swear, if you don't shut up—"

"Oh, come on," he teases. "You're telling me you don't get the whole 'will-they-won't-they' vibe? Because, seriously, it's so obvious, it's painful to watch."

I glare at him.

"You really need a hobby."

"I've got plenty," Dimitri replies easily. "Watching you two is just one of the most entertaining."

I roll my eyes and look out the window, desperate to ignore him.

The van turns a corner, and I sneak a glance at Ivan, wondering if he's even listening. But he's lost in his own thoughts. I sigh, unsure if I should be relieved or pissed off at his indifference.

Dimitri smirks, clearly not finished.

"You know, Katya... sometimes, you just have to admit you're part of the show."

I don't respond. I don't want to be part of the show.

The van lurches to a stop in front of The Den, the looming building standing tall, dark, and foreboding in front of us.

Dimitri's voice breaks the silence one last time.

"Here we are. Another day, another round of chaos."

I push open the door and step into the cool morning air.

And just like that, I'm reminded—this life, these games, this man beside me...

It's never simple.