Lara becomes a vessel for his desires

The door slammed shut behind them, sealing them inside Viktor’s lavish penthouse bedroom. The city skyline stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but neither of them was paying attention to the view. The real storm was between them.

Lara barely had time to catch her breath before Viktor’s hands were on her, pushing her back against the silk-covered bed. But she wasn’t the type to be manhandled so easily. With a sly smirk, she flipped their positions in an instant, straddling his waist, pressing him into the mattress.

“Did you really think you could take charge that easily?” she teased, running her fingers down his chest, feeling the hard ridges of his lean muscles. He wasn’t a brute, but there was a quiet strength in the way he moved, a simmering control he rarely relinquished.

Viktor’s smirk deepened. “I was hoping you’d fight me for it.”

Lara chuckled, leaning down, letting her lips ghost over his without touching. “Then you’ll love what happens next.”

She rolled her hips against him, feeling his sharp inhale, his body responding instantly. He wasn’t the only one playing the game. She knew exactly how to work him up, how to tease and push, how to keep him on the edge without giving in.

But Viktor wasn’t a man who liked being kept waiting.

In a sudden motion, he gripped her thighs, rolling them over so he was on top, his weight pressing her into the soft sheets. His pale blue eyes burned into hers, a silent challenge exchanged between them.

“You play dirty, Lady Croft,” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot against her collarbone as he trailed kisses along her neck.

“Only when the stakes are high,” she whispered back, tilting her head to give him better access, her fingers digging into his back.

What followed was less of a lovemaking session and more of a battle—an intoxicating clash of dominance and desire. Each kiss was a challenge, each touch a taunt. He pushed her, she pushed back. The sheets tangled beneath them as they moved, the bedframe groaning under the intensity of their passion.

Lara met him thrust for thrust, moan for moan, her body arching, demanding more. Sweat-slicked skin pressed against silk, the rhythm between them growing wilder, more ****.

Viktor grinned through a sharp breath, his hands gripping her hips as if he were afraid she’d disappear. “You’re perfect for me,” he murmured against her lips.

Lara smirked, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. “And you’re just barely keeping up.”

Their bodies collided again, rough and wild, a clash of dominance and submission that neither fully conceded. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound drowned by the moans, the heavy breathing, the wet, **** kisses that filled the room.

Lara’s nails raked down his back, leaving faint red lines. Viktor responded with a sharp slap to her ass, his smirk growing when she gasped—part pleasure, part challenge.

“You can do better than that,” she taunted.

His eyes darkened, and he did.

The night stretched on, a war waged in sweat, moans, and tangled limbs, neither willing to surrender.

And neither wanted to.