He pulls away and flips me over. His body looms over mine. I stare up at him and see his chest heaving up and down.
His hand slides under my leg and lifts it, resting it on his shoulder.
“Eyes on me.”
I do it.
“Not easy. Not gentle. Not slow.”
I nod. “Please.”
He inches inside me. I relax under him.
And then he moves. The bed pounds against the wall. He’s grunting and making animalistic sounds that would have terrified me a week ago, but now, they only excite me.
“Sergei!” I cry out his name loud enough to wake the dead.
He doesn’t stop. Good. My breasts bounce with the violent thrusts.
That same sensation from before, but more intense.
"That's it," he groans. "Fuck, you're so tight."
His fingers dig into my hips, the pain feels good.
"More," I beg.
Sweat drips down his nose and lands on my breasts. I don’t know why, but that is the thing that gets me. It’s erotic.
I cry out his name as the orgasm crashes over me. My back bows so hard I swear it feels like my spine is going to snap.
He follows me over, his grip on my hips tightening as he thrusts deep one last time. I feel him pulsing inside me.
He drops my leg and collapses on me.
This time, there’s no fear. It’s comforting. He kisses the side of my face. Then my neck. Then back to my cheek. He whispers words of comfort in Russian. I know some and appreciate his gentleness.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No. A little. It was good.”
“You’re crying.”
“What?”
He kisses my cheek again. “It was too much.”
My breath catches. A small sob escapes.
“No. I feel…free.”
He slides his body off of mine and pulls me against his chest.
I'm boneless. Sated. My mind is blissfully blank. The constant unease is gone.
“Do you feel safe?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”