The air in the café still hummed with the weight of what had just happened.
Lena’s thighs ached, her skin still stinging from the rough grip of Viktor’s hands, the counter cold beneath her bare ass where he’d left her sprawled.
She hadn’t even had time to fix her apron before he’d straightened his coat, his gloved fingers brushing her cheek with something almost tender before he turned toward the door.
"Tomorrow, solnyshko," he’d murmured, "same time."As if this were just another of his daily visits, as if he hadn’t just split her open and f****d her raw right there where anyone could’ve walked in.
Lena exhaled shakily, pressing her palms against the counter’s edge to steady herself. The torn lace of her panties was still tangled around one ankle, the fabric damp with her own arousal.
