"Ah! Right there!"
Sasha’s back arched, her spine curving like a bow as Romanov drove into her, pinning her against the floor-to-ceiling glass of the penthouse. Below them, the city lights of the metropolis blurred into a smear of neon gold and electric blue, but Sasha could only see the reflection of Romanov’s face—dark, focused, and utterly consumed.
"Mmm... you’re shaking, Sasha," Romanov groaned, his voice a rough vibration against her ear. "Is this part of your negotiation?"
"Hnn... shut up," she gasped, her fingers digging into the muscles of his forearms. "Just... don't stop."
*Slap. Slap. Slap.*
The sound of their bodies colliding echoed in the minimalist room. Romanov wasn't gentle; he handled her with the same possessive intensity he used to acquire companies. He gripped he
