Alexi is lounging on the enormous couch, his perfect body perfectly naked. His abs ripple down to the V-cut of the muscles leading to his gratifyingly hard cock. Tucking one arm behind his head, he smiles down at me devilishly. “All right.”
“I don’t want to screw it up,” I admit, chewing my lower lip.
He pulls my lip free from my teeth with his thumb. “You can’t screw it up, hummingbird. Be my filthy, messy girl and suck as much as you’re comfortable with.”
Eyeing the size of him, I’m concerned that it will be a disappointingly small amount. His shaft is enormous, thick, and pulsing. I’ve never thought of men’s equipment as beautiful, but Alexi’s is. The broad head is red and swollen and the piercing shines up at me like a filthy wink.
We’re on the second-level deck of theCarpe Diem,the wind, salt-tinged and pure blowing over the tan leather sectional. It’s less elaborate than the rest of the yacht which is all black walls and endless gray granite countertops. This is my favorite place because the crew knows better than to come by here without permission.
Sucking the thick tip of him between my lips, I take a deep breath through my nose and push down, trying to take as much of him as I can.
It’s not much.
Still, Alexi groans, his hand sliding into my hair. Gripping the base of his cock with one hand, I carefully cup his heavy balls with the other. My mouth is full of him and I trace my tongue along the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft, enjoying how his grip tightens on my hair.
His cock is stretching my mouth, the way it does my pussy and I focus on the feel and taste of him, how something so thick and hard can be covered with silky skin and tighten my lips around him. He stiffens and for a triumphant little moment, I think he’s going to come.
Abruptly pulling out of my mouth, Alexi flips me over onto my back and spreads my legs, smiling devilishly. Taking his cock in hand, he slaps the pierced tip against my clitoris, and to my shock, a little orgasm shimmers through me.
Scooping his hands under my ass, he goes back on his heels, lifting me and dropping me on his cock.
“Relax, my sweet hummingbird.” He kisses me, sliding his tongue along the seam of my lips, “You’re burning me from the inside out with the heat of you.”
He’s bouncing me lightly, and I dig my fingernails into his back, trying to ground myself and oh,dammit,I can feel another orgasm pushing through me whether I’m ready or not. His hands are rhythmically squeezing my ass in time with his thrusts inside me. I tighten my thighs, strong from years of hustling heavy trays through the restaurant and I help him, enjoying his growl of pleasure. My nipples are sensitive from him sucking them earlier and they’re rubbing against his hairy chest.
My feverish focus narrows down to only sensations, the feel of him pounding into me - he stretches me so wide - I never get used to that part, the bite and sting along with the thickness of him inside me. How he knows what angle will make me clench my thighs tighter, which one will make me scream in surprise, and then come.
Which I do. And then it goes blissfully dark.
When my eyes flutter open, we’re lying together on the huge wicker lounge on the balcony off the master bedroom, and I’m dressed again. “Did I faint?” I ask, cringing a little at his amused grin.
“It’s possible,” he allows, “I’ve never seen anything prettier than your face when you come, those little gasping sounds…” My husband groans, pushing down on the erection trying to break free from his gray sweatpants.
Alexi stands up with an effort, an obvious bulge tenting his sweats. “You need food before I do anything else to you.” His eyes narrow and I feel a little zing of lightning, all the way to my toes. “And there is so much I want to do to you.”
A high, inarticulate little noise leaves my lips.
He takes me to our stateroom and there’s a gorgeous feast laid out; some Boston favorites like lobster, and some Russian staples likepelmeni,tasty little dumplings andbliniwith sour cream and caviar.
There’s a huge arrangement of ruby-red poppies in the middle of the table and little crystal hearts scattered over the white tablecloth.
“What’s all this?”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, my sweet girl,” he says, kissing me.
“It’s Valentine’s Day?” I laugh, letting him seat me as I try to take it all in. “I’ve always worked Valentine’s Day at the restaurant, so I never got a chance to celebrate it.”
A shadow passes over his face at the mention of the Siderov’s restaurant. Both of us are trying not to think about the past on this trip. It’s our honeymoon. We deserve some peace.
“I understand that flowers are important,” he says. “I know you most emphatically would not want roses.”
“These are beautiful,” I sigh, admiring the poppies, “thank you.”
“There must be candy…” He puts six enormous boxes of chocolate on the table, golden, heart-shaped containers tied with ribbons.
“Nikolai was insistent that men get stuffed animals for their loved ones,” he makes a face, “that doesn’t seem like you.”
“No, the tower of chocolate and the flower arrangement bigger than my first car is fine, thank you.” I let out a startled yelp as he lifts me easily, sliding underneath and settling me on his lap.
