The door swung open, and we stumbled inside, clothes already being shed. My blouse hit the hallway floor. His jacket followed. My skirt unzipped with an obscenely loud sound in the quiet space. His hands found bare skin, and we both groaned, the sound raw and unfiltered.
He walked me backward through the penthouse, his lips on my neck, my collarbone, the curve of my shoulder. My boots came off somewhere between the living room and the hallway. His shirt was already unbuttoned, hanging open to reveal lean muscle and pale skin that I wanted to taste.
“You’re so wet,” he growled against my ear, his voice rough with satisfaction. He ground his hips against mine, letting me feel the hard, heavy ridge of his erection through his trousers. “So impatient for me.”
“I need you,” I gasped, my fingernails digging into his shoulders. “Please.”
“Bedroom,” he commanded, though he didn’t stop touching me.
We stumbled backward, lips never separating. By the time we reached the mattress, we were stripped bare. In the dim light, he looked like a dark god—lean muscle, pale skin, and a heavy, throbbing cock that bobbed with his heartbeat.
He pushed me onto the bed, my back sinking into the high thread count sheets. But instead of climbing over me, he knelt at the foot of the bed, gripping my ankles and dragging me down until my hips were at the edge. He spread my legs wide, draping them over his shoulders, exposing me completely to his gaze.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his eyes dark and dilated as he stared at my slick entrance. “So pretty.”
He lowered his head, and I cried out as his tongue flattened against my clitoris. He didn’t tease; he feasted. He licked a long, wet stripe from my entrance up to that sensitivebundle of nerves, his stubble grazing my inner thighs, sending electric shocks through my system.
“Fuck…!” I writhed, my hips lifting off the mattress.
“Stay still,” he ordered, his vibration rumbling against my skin. He sucked me into his mouth, his tongue swirling with maddening precision, while two of his fingers slipped inside me, curling in a “come hither” motion that hit my G-spot hard.
I was unraveling, my head thrashing on the pillows. “I can’t—it’s too much—”
“Take it,” he said, his voice muffled against me. He worked me faster, his tongue relentless, until I was trembling, right on the edge of a precipice.
Just before I could break, he pulled away. I whimpered at the loss, my body aching and empty.
“Not like that,” he rasped, crawling up my body. He braced himself over me, his shoulders blocking out the light. He positioned himself at my entrance, the broad head of his cock teasing the wet, swollen opening. “I want to be inside you when you come. I want to feel you clamp down on me.”
“Put it in,” I begged, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him down. “Now.”
He didn’t hesitate. He drove into me, one long, smooth stroke that stretched me to my limit. I gasped, my head falling back as the sheer size of him filled me completely, stretching me wide. He held still for a moment, letting our bodies adjust to the intrusion, his forehead resting against mine.
“You feel so good,” he groaned, a raw sound torn from his throat. “So tight. Perfect.”
He withdrew almost all the way, leaving just the tip inside, before slamming back in to the hilt. The friction was exquisite. My inner walls squeezed around him instinctively, milking him, and he cursed low in Russian.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice guttural. “Clamp down on me,koshechka. Use me.”
He set a punishing rhythm, snapping his hips forward with a force that rocked the bedframe. The sound of wet skin slapping against skin filled the room. Every thrust hit that deep, sweet spot inside me, sending sparks behind my eyelids. I raked my nails down his back, needing to mark him, needing him closer than physically possible.
The orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, my body convulsing, my interior muscles clenching violently around his cock. I screamed his name, arching my back, lost in the white-hot sensation.
Feeling my release triggered his own. He groaned, his entire body tensing as he drove into me three more times—hard, fast, desperate—before burying himself deep inside. I felt him throb, spilling his hot seed into me, holding me tight as he poured himself out.
We collapsed together afterward, sheets tangled around us, skin slick with sweat, hearts pounding in time. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his chest, and I let myself have this. Let myself pretend, just for a moment, that this could be more than one night. That I could be someone different. Someone free.
I fell asleep to the sound of his breathing, steady and deep, feeling safer than I had any right to feel.
***
The harsh trill of my phone sliced through the silence like a knife.
I jerked awake, disoriented, my body protesting the sudden movement. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows I didn’t recognize, illuminating a bedroom that definitely wasn’t mine. The sheets smelled like cedar and sex, and for one blissful second, I remembered,
Then my phone rang again, and my blood turned to ice.
I scrambled for my clutch purse, fingers clumsy, heart already racing for all the wrong reasons. The screen’s glow burned my eyes:Bass.
