“God, I love it when you say my name like that,” he groans, his lips trailing heat along my neck.
It takes every ounce of concentration to keep from unraveling completely right there in his arms.
With my free hand, I unbutton Kirill’s shirt and then unbuckle his belt at the quickest pace I can muster, shoving my hand down his pants and boxers, sighing in delight when I find him hard as steel. He hisses at my touch as I slowly stroke his length from base to tip. He lifts his hooded eyes to me, staring at me much like his brother stared at his wife at dinner—with complete adoration and devotion. The look in his eyes shouldunsettle me. It should send me running to the hills. But instead, I just press my ankles to his back, needing him like I need air to breathe.
“Take me to bed, Kill. Now.”
Kirill moves instantly, turning us and lowering me onto the bed with surprising gentleness. Now, towering over me, his eyes scan my body as if he couldn’t make up his mind on where to start first. But I know the minute his libido cools when his eyes land on my sling and bandaged shoulder.
I lean forward and reach out my hand to cup his cheek. “I’m fine. I won’t break.”
He swallows dryly, as if not entirely convinced. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“I almost lost you.”
“I’m right here.”
Kirill’s gaze flashes back to my eyes, something shifting in him. “I have to do this my way or not at all.”
Is he fucking for real? I’m dying over here!
Now is not the time to start an argument with him. I already know how stubborn he can get. So I concede, knowing that’s the only way we’ll move forward.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He lifts a brow, as if I were setting a trap for him.
“Yes,” I coo, softly caressing his cheek with my hand. “We’ll do this your way.”
“Slow?”
“Yes, Kill. Slow. Now kiss me already.”
He doesn’t put up a fight and grabs my head in his hands, delivering an earthshattering kiss. By the time he’s done with me, I’m more than happy to follow his lead. Slow, fast, whatever he wants.
Kirill pulls me back onto my feet and takes off my sling, giving me a bit of my mobility back. He throws it to the floor and then flips me around, causing me to gasp at how quickly he’s able to bend my body to his will. He gently gathers my hair and moves it to my good shoulder, pulling the zipper of my dress next and kissing my spine in time with its slow descent.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he confesses in my ear.
My lips find his as I turn to face him again. This time our kiss is slow and languid, as if he wanted to memorize every nook and corner of my mouth, the velvet glide of my tongue against his. As the kiss deepens, he swiftly pulls off his shirt, drops his pants to the floor, and kicks his shoes away. I smile into his mouth as I step out of my own heels, practically purring at the feel of his skin pressing against mine.
Kirill’s hands grip my waist and then gently guide me back onto the bed, hovering over me, his heat scorching my skin. He breaks our kiss only to pepper sweet kisses all along my body, every inch of me now marked and claimed by his mouth.
I raise my legs to trap him in my thighs once he makes his way up again to my mouth, unable to keep himself from kissing me for more than a few moments. I bite into his lip at the feel of his hard cock now perfectly placed between my thighs. As his lips roam and his hands travel, memorizing every curve of my body, the way his cock rubs against my pussy, sliding up and down my soaked slit, has me panting for breath.
He’s so close. So close to where I need him most. And yet, he’s too enraptured with kissing every little inch of me to see the misery I’m in.
“Kill,” a startled moan leaves me, needy and restless, when his girth rubs against my clit in the most delicious and unbearable of ways.
Kirill’s eyes land on mine, finally reading the pain he’s left me to endure in this slow torture of his. Unable to see me in such agony, he angles the crown of his cock to my opening and, in one deep thrust, shatters me completely. My nails sink into his back as he curses me with each and every languid stroke.
“I asked for one thing. One fucking thing. And you couldn’t even give me that,” he growls, sounding pissed that he’s fucking me.
Still, I refuse to apologize since this is exactly what I wanted for longer than I am willing to admit.
Kirill mumbles something in Russian, broken curses as he lets himself get lost in our new dance. I close my eyes and just let myself give way to the rhythm of our bodies, how they fit perfectly with one another, almost as if we were made for each other. His hands continue to roam my body as his cock keeps punishing me in the best way imaginable. Little helpless sobs leave my mouth as I run my nails up and down his back, my core clenching with the way he hits the deepest darkest parts of me. It all feels like it’s too much and still not enough.
