I gasp, clutching his shoulders as his calloused fingertips find my slick heat. He explores with ruthless precision, circling my clit with a slow, firm pressure that makes my thighs quake. My breath fractures into sharp moans, hips grinding against his hand. He murmurs something in Russian, low and guttural, as his fingers delve deeper, curling inside me.
The stretch is exquisite, a sweet burn that unravels me. My nails bite into his back, heat coiling tight before snapping. My climax crashes through me, a white-hot wave that leaves me trembling and breathless, clinging to him as my body pulses around his fingers.
He doesn’t give me time to recover. With a predator’s grace, Vlad lowers me onto the rug before the fire, its warmth kissing my skin. His hands are deft, unbuttoning my slacks and peeling them down in one fluid motion. My blouse follows, leaving me in my bra and panties, exposed under his hungry gaze. Firelight dances over my curves as his eyes devour me, reverent and ravenous.
“Teresa,” he breathes. “You’re so goddamn sexy.”
His lips find my collarbone, trailing kisses down the swell of my breasts and along my stomach, worshipping every inch. He nips at the soft flesh of my hips, murmuring, “Perfect. Every curve.”
I should stop him. It all feels so wrong, like I’m disgracing Maxim’s memory. But God help me, I can’t stop.
His hands slide up, easing my bra straps down, baring my breasts. His mouth follows, hot and worshiping, tongue circling each nipple before drawing it between his lips. I arch, moaning, as he lavishes attention on each peak, his teeth grazing just enough to spark a sweet ache.
My fingers fumble with his belt. I ease the zipper down, the heat and weight of him pressing against my palm. The look he gives me—dark, lustful—gives me a full-body shiver.
“Easy,?kotenok,” he murmurs. “You’ll undo me.”
He reaches into his pocket for a condom, tearing the foil quicky. I catch his hand trembling just a little before he recovers. Seeing him so ready, so focused, and absolutely locked on me turns my body to liquid.
Maxim’s memory knocks softly, but I turn away from it. For better or for worse.
Vlad guides me back onto the rug, parting my thighs with a gentle but unyielding touch. He tugs my panties down, then presses against my entrance. He enters me slowly, inch by wonderful inch, filling me until I’m stretched, full, complete.
I whimper, nails raking his shoulders as he begins to move, each thrust deep and slow. The rhythm builds, relentless, his hips snapping against mine. My legs wrap around him, urging him deeper, the friction of his body against my clit sparking firethrough my veins. His growls vibrate against my throat, his teeth grazing my pulse as he drives harder, faster.
I look up at him, muscles flexing, sweat gleaming on his upper lip, dark hair falling into his eyes as he moves. His cock, thick and relentless, disappears into my pussy over and over. His abs tense with each roll of his hips, scars catching the dim light.
He leans down, lips crashing into mine, tongue claiming as his hand kneads my breast, thumb circling my nipple until it’s a hard, aching peak.
“Teresa,” he growls, “come with me.”
The pressure builds again, a tidal wave cresting. I’m gasping, clawing at him, lost in the heat of his skin, his scent, the way he fills me. His rhythm falters, a desperate edge to his thrusts, and I feel him tense.
My climax hits first, a shattering pulse that rips a cry from my throat. He follows, a low roar tearing from him as he buries himself deep, shuddering as we unravel together. The world blurs—firelight, sweat, the weight of his body anchoring mine.
We collapse onto the soft rug beneath us, breathless, tangled, the fire warm against our skin.
CHAPTER 5
VLAD
Ilie stretched out beside the dying fire, heat licking at my skin while snow drifts beyond the windows.
Teresa’s breath is still uneven, her gorgeous breasts rising and falling as she tries to collect herself.
I study the way the fire glow highlights her curves, the slope of her hip and thigh, the sheen of sweat along her sternum. Images spark behind my eyes—her head thrown back, legs tight around my waist, the gasp when she shattered and pulled me over the edge with her.
I can still feel her pussy gripping me, the blind rush of pleasure as I spilled inside her.
But the afterglow is brief. Reality sharpens like a cool blade as I think about Aleksander’s order, the certain storm of repercussions to follow, and the thin line I just crossed between protection and possession.
I hired her because keeping her close meant keeping her alive—and under control.
Atleast that’s what I keep telling myself.
Teresa breaks the silence with a soft, incredulous laugh. “Well, that wasn’t on tonight’s agenda.”
“No, it was not.” Though the truth I’ll keep to myself is that I’ve imagined it for a long time. Too long.
