Chapter 49

Natasha

I was organizing my supplies when I heard the door to the healing quarters open. It was late, well past midnight and everyone should have been asleep.

I turned, already knowing who it was before I saw him.

Mikhail closed the door quietly behind him, his eyes finding mine immediately in the dim candlelight.

"You shouldn't be here." I whispered even though my pulse quickened at the sight of him.

"Probably not," He crossed the room toward me, predatory. "But I couldn't stay away."

"Someone could come in."

"No one will," He reached me and his hands went to my waist, pulling me against him. "Everyone's asleep, and I needed to see you."

It had only been hours since he left my bed, but I wanted him just as badly. This thing between us was becoming dangerous in more ways than one. We were getting reckless.

"The examination table?" I breathed as he backed me toward it.

"Why not?" His mouth was on my neck, teeth scraping my pulse point. "You've treated people on it. Now I'm going to fuck you on it."

The crudeness of his words sent heat straight between my legs. He lifted me onto the table and I immediately wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"We have to be quiet." I reminded him, even as my hands worked at his belt.

"Then you better not scream," He pushed my dress up around my hips and groaned when he found me bare underneath. "Fuck, no underwear?"

"I was getting ready for bed." I lied. Truth was, I had been hoping he would come.

His fingers found me wet and ready, and he made a pleased sound low in his throat. "Such a good girl, waiting for me like this."

I helped him free his cock and he didn't waste time. He just lined himself up and pushed inside in one hard thrust. I had to bite down on his shoulder to muffle my cry.

"That's it," He growled against my ear. "Mark me. Make me feel it tomorrow."

He fucked me hard, the table creaking beneath us. My back arched and my arm flailed out, knocking over bottles that crashed to the floor. The sound was loud in the quiet room and we both froze.

"Shit." I breathed.

"Don't care," He started moving again, even harder now. "Let them hear. Let everyone know I'm fucking you."

"Mikhail."

"You're mine," His hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back so he could bite at my throat. "Mine, Natasha. Say it."

"Yours," I gasped, my nails raking down his back hard enough that I knew I was leaving marks. "I'm yours."

He groaned and slammed into me deeper, the angle hitting something that made stars explode behind my eyes.

My legs tightened around him and I was coming, biting down harder on his shoulder to keep from screaming.

He followed immediately, burying himself deep as he spilled inside me. We were both panting, clinging to each other, and I could feel the heat of his skin under my palms.

"Fuck," He muttered, slowly pulling out. "That was incredible."

"Your back," I interrupted, suddenly remembering. "I scratched you."

"I know. I felt it." He sounded pleased.

"No, you don't understand," I slid off the table, my legs shaky. "Turn around."

He did, and I could see the deep red lines I had carved into his skin. Some of them were bleeding slightly.

"Can't have anyone seeing these," I murmured, reaching for clean cloth and water. "They'll ask questions."

"Let them ask."

"Mikhail," I dampened the cloth and began carefully cleaning the scratches. "Be serious."

"Fine," But he was watching me over his shoulder, his eyes dark. "Though I like wearing your marks."

"You can't," I pressed the cloth gently to the worst of the scratches. "Not where anyone can see them."

He hissed slightly at the sting but didn't pull away. "You'll just have to be more careful where you scratch me next time."

"Or you could not fuck me so hard I lose control." I countered.

"Where's the fun in that?"

I shook my head but couldn't help the small smile. My hands moved over his back, checking each scratch and making sure they were clean.

Some were deeper than others. Those would definitely leave marks for a few days.

"You'll have to keep your shirt on," I said quietly. "Even during training."

"I know."

"And if anyone asks—"

"Training accident. Took a tumble in the woods," His voice had gone rough. "Stop worrying."

"I can't help it," I set the cloth aside, my fingers trailing lightly over his unmarked skin. "This is dangerous enough without leaving evidence."

He turned suddenly, catching my wrist and pulling me against him. "I like watching you take care of me," He said, his voice low. "Your hands on me, even like this. Especially like this."

I looked up at him, confused. "You like me cleaning your wounds?"

"I like you touching me," He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my palm. "However you'll do it, and knowing these hands that treat the wounded, that help people—"

He kissed each fingertip. "—also scratch my back while I'm inside you."

The way he was looking at me made my breath catch. There was something raw in his expression, something beyond just physical desire.

"You're strange." I whispered.

"Maybe," He pulled me against him. "Or maybe I'm just obsessed with you."

He kissed me, slower this time, and I could feel him already getting hard again. His stamina was impressive, or maybe it was just us, this thing between us that we couldn't seem to satisfy no matter how many times we came together.

"Again?" I asked against his lips.

"Again." But instead of lifting me back onto the table, he sank to his knees, pulling me down with him.

The floor was cold and hard beneath my back, but I didn't care. Not when he was settling between my thighs, not when he was pushing back inside me with a groan.

This time was different. Slower. His thrusts were deep and measured and almost tender. He braced himself above me, watching my face as he moved.

"You feel so good," He murmured. "So perfect wrapped around my cock."

"Mikhail." I breathed, my hands sliding up his chest, careful to avoid the scratches on his back.

"Mine," he whispered, dipping down to kiss me. "You're mine, Natasha. Not anyone else's. Mine."

"Yes." My fingers curled against his shoulders. "Yours."

"Say it again."

"I'm yours."

"Who do you belong to?" His pace increased slightly, his control starting to slip.

"You. I belong to you."

He groaned and buried his face in my neck, his hips snapping harder now. "That's right. My Natasha. Mine to touch, mine to fuck, mine to—"

He cut himself off, but I heard what he didn't say. Mine to love.

The thought should have terrified me, but instead it made me clench around him. This was more than just sex now. More than just scratching an itch. We were crossing lines we shouldn’t cross.

"Come for me," He commanded, his hand sliding between us to find my clit. "Come on my cock, Natasha."

His fingers circled the sensitive bundle of nerves and I shattered, my back arching off the floor.

He swallowed my moans with his mouth, his own rhythm faltering as my orgasm triggered his.

He came with a low groan, spilling inside me for the second time that night. We were both trembling, both gasping for air.

For a long moment we just lay there on the floor of my healing quarters, sticky, sated and tangled together.

"We're getting worse at being careful." I finally said.

"I know." He didn't sound concerned.

"Someone's going to figure it out."

"Let them."

"Mikhail—"

"I mean it," He lifted his head to look at me. "I don't care anymore. Let them know you're mine."

"You know we can't do that."

His jaw tightened. "I know. Doesn't mean I like it."

I cupped his face, making him look at me. "In private, I'm yours. That has to be enough."

"Is it enough for you?"

I considered lying, but couldn't. "No, but it's what we have."

He kissed me again and it was soft and sweet this time. "Then I'll take it, for now."

He pulled out and helped me to my feet. We cleaned up the broken bottles, evidence of our recklessness. As he was getting dressed, I grabbed a spare shirt from my supplies.

"Here. In case you run into anyone. Say you spilled something on yours."

He took it, a small smile playing at his lips. "Always thinking ahead."

"One of us has to."

He left the same way he came, checking to make sure no one saw him, and I was left alone in my healing quarters, the smell of sex still in the air, his cum still dripping down my thighs.

Mine, he had said, and the moon goddess help me, I was.