CHAPTER 315

CHAPTER 315
ALINA

Alexander stiffened beneath me and broke the kiss. His fiery blue eyes locked on mine as he came hard over my hand and his stomach, a low, broken sound tearing from his throat.

Breathless, I looked down at the result—the thick ropes of his release streaking my fingers and the hard plane of his abs. My heart was still racing, my own body aching with unanswered need.

He reached over the side of the bed, grabbed the discarded towel, and cleaned my hand first with slow, careful strokes.

Then he wiped himself clean, movements almost tender despite the roughness of what had just happened. When he dropped the towel to the floor again, I couldn’t stop staring at him. My inner thighs were slick with my own arousal, the ache between my legs sharp and insistent.

Alexander’s hands settled on my knees. Gently, carefully, he pulled me forward until I was straddling his hips.

The shift pressed me against the residual heat of him. I smiled down at him and leaned in until our foreheads touched. For a long moment we just breathed the same air, the quiet between us thick with everything we weren’t saying yet.

Then I felt his hand slide slowly along my inner thigh. I jerked in surprise when one thick finger pressed against my wet core. An unashamed moan slipped out of me before I could stop it.

I gave myself a mental shake and caught his wrist, stopping him.

“You don’t have to,” I whispered, catching his wrist. “I just… I needed to take care of you. To show you how much I love you.”

Alexander looked at me in mild surprise, lips parting like he was about to argue. I leaned in and kissed him before he could say a word.

Soft. Slow. Full of everything I felt for him. I wanted him to feel loved, not just desired.

After everything—the blood on his clothes earlier, the fear that still lingered at the edges of every quiet moment, the way he’d been holding himself back for my sake—he needed this. Needed to be taken care of for once without having to be the strong one.

His eyes darkened possessively. A low growl vibrated in his chest. When his mouth claimed mine again it was deeper, hungrier, showing me exactly who I belonged to.

I nipped his lower lip, demanding a little control, and he gave it to me without hesitation.

He let me set the pace. In return I poured everything into the kiss—how much I loved him, how safe I felt with him even when the world outside was chaos.

My hands framed his face, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones as our mouths moved together.

We stayed like that for a little while, kissing and breathing each other in, my body still draped over his. I could feel him starting to harden again against me, slow and inevitable.

Eventually he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against mine once more. His breathing was uneven.

“My turn,” he said quietly.

Before I could even form a coherent thought he moved—slow, careful, deliberate. Strong hands guided me onto my back.

He shifted us with careful, deliberate movements until I was lying beneath him, his weight braced fully on one forearm so he wasn’t putting any pressure on my stomach. Every adjustment was slow and gentle, like I might break if he wasn’t careful enough.

The change in position still made my breath catch. He looked down at me with an intensity that made my toes curl, as if he were memorizing every detail of my face in the low light.

“You took care of me,” he murmured, brushing a damp strand of hair from my cheek with surprising gentleness.

“Now let me take care of you. Slowly. Carefully. Nothing strenuous. Just this.”

I nodded, already aching for it.
Alexander kissed me again, deeper this time, while his free hand trailed down my side, over the soft curve of my hip, and between my thighs.

He nudged them apart with gentle insistence. When his fingers finally found me I was soaked. He groaned against my mouth at the discovery, the sound raw and almost reverent.

“Fuck, wife… you’re so wet for me.”

One thick finger stroked through my folds, gathering the slickness, then circled my clit with maddening lightness.

I arched into the touch with a soft gasp. He kept the pressure feather-light at first, teasing, learning exactly what made my breath hitch and my hips shift.

Only when I was trembling did he press a little firmer, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that sent sparks racing up my spine and down to my toes.

“Alexander—”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against my lips. “Just feel it. Nothing else.”

He kissed a path along my jaw and down the sensitive column of my neck while his finger continued its unhurried torture.

When he finally slid that finger inside me—slow, careful, testing—I moaned into his shoulder. He worked it in and out with the same controlled patience, curling slightly on every stroke to find the spot that made my hips twitch.

A second finger joined the first only when I was ready, stretching me gently. The dual sensation of his fingers filling me and his thumb now circling my clit was almost too much.

I clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the hard muscle there.

My breathing turned ragged. Every stroke was measured, almost reverent, like he was determined to pull every ounce of pleasure from me without ever risking too much.

The wet sounds of his fingers moving inside me filled the quiet room, obscene and perfect. My thighs trembled around his hand.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint.

“Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

He kept the rhythm steady—deep, slow thrusts of his fingers, thumb never stopping its circles on my swollen clit.

My thighs started to shake harder. The coil in my belly tightened with every careful stroke. I could feel how hard he was again against my hip, thick and insistent, but he ignored his own need completely, focused only on me.

“Alexander… I’m—”

“I know. Come for me, wife. Nice and slow. I’ve got you.”

He curled his fingers just right and pressed a little harder with his thumb.

The orgasm rolled through me in deep, rolling waves rather than a sharp crash—long, intense, almost overwhelming because of how carefully he prolonged it. I cried out against his neck, body clamping down around his fingers as pleasure flooded every nerve.

He worked me through it, never speeding up, never getting rough, just steady and relentless until the last tremor faded and I went limp beneath him, breathing hard, skin damp with sweat.

Only then did he ease his fingers out of me. He brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, eyes locked on mine the entire time, dark and satisfied.

I stared up at him, dazed and thoroughly wrecked in the best way.

Alexander leaned down and kissed me softly—once, twice—before settling beside me and pulling me carefully into his arms. One large hand rested protectively over my stomach, warm and steady.

“Still okay?” he asked quietly, voice low against my hair.

I nodded, pressing my face into his chest. “More than okay.”

I was still floating, body soft and boneless against him, when Alexander shifted again.

He pressed a slow kiss to my temple, then another to the corner of my mouth. His voice was low and rough when he spoke.

“I’m not done.”

Before I could form a reply he moved down the bed. Strong hands gently opened my thighs once more. I made a soft sound of surprise, still sensitive from the orgasm he’d just given me, but he only settled between them like he belonged there.

The first stroke of his tongue over my clit was slow, deliberate, almost reverent. I gasped, hips twitching. He hummed against me in answer, then pulled back just enough to speak, voice rough and low.

“Fuck… I’d almost forgotten how fucking delicious you are.”

Then he licked me again, firmer this time, and began in earnest—hungry, focused, drinking me in with a kind of squirmy, frantic intensity that made my mind go completely blank.
Mmmm… That was all I had.

He licked deeper, tongue flat and relentless against my oversensitive clit, then lower, tasting everything he’d already drawn from me.

One of his hands held my thigh open; the other rested carefully on my hip, keeping me steady without pressing too hard. Every time I tried to close my legs from the intensity he simply nudged them wider and kept going, drinking me up like he couldn’t get enough.

I couldn’t think of a single coherent thing.
Not one.

Only the wet heat of his mouth.
The way his tongue circled and flicked and pressed.
The low, satisfied sounds he made against me.

My fingers found his hair and tangled there, not pulling, just holding on.

My back arched. Soft, broken sounds spilled from my throat that I barely recognized as mine. He licked harder, faster for a few strokes, then slowed again, drawing it out, making me feel every second of the pleasure.

“Alexander—” I managed, voice wrecked.

He didn’t answer with words. He just sealed his mouth over me and sucked gently on my clit, tongue still working, and whatever coherent thought I had left dissolved completely into another long, rolling wave of pleasure that left me trembling and gasping his name.

When the last tremor finally eased he pressed one last soft kiss to my inner thigh, then climbed back up the bed and gathered me carefully into his arms again.

I buried my face against his neck, still shaking, completely spent.

He held me through it, one hand stroking slow circles over my back, the other still resting protectively over my stomach.

“Now I’m done,” he murmured against my hair, voice dark with quiet satisfaction.

I could only manage a breathless, shaky laugh and hold him tighter.

He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of my head, then another to my temple.

“I love you,” he said, the words quiet but absolute.

“I love you too,” I whispered back.

His hand stayed over my stomach, warm and protective, as if he could shield both of us from everything that still waited beyond these walls. I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the safety of his arms, the aftershocks of pleasure still humming softly through my body.

We had taken care of each other tonight—carefully, completely, without rushing or risking more than we should. And for now, that was everything we needed.