Legs wrapping around his waist, I press my heels into his ass, urging him further into me again.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he breathes out, thrusting into me again and again, building up in intensity. I fall back against the pillow, moaning loudly and clawing my nails into the round muscles of his shoulders. His hand grasps one of my thighs, lifting it to spread me even further.
“Look at me, baby. Watch what you do to me.”
I fight to keep my eyes open, refocusing on the view before me.
Bracing his arms on either side of my head, he starts ramming into me harder, hitting a deep spot inside that has me seeing stars in my vision. I trail my arm down between us, fingers wandering to where the base of his cock slides into me again andagain.
Mikhail lowers his lips down to my breast, enveloping nearly the entire swell in his hot, wet mouth. All of a sudden, I’m drowning in pure stimulation, zips of electricity flying through me. His mouth pulls off with a soft sucking sound, and his lips move to my ear.
“Touch yourself, Menace. Let me watch you rub that swollen clit.”
His filthy words have my eyes rolling all over again. My fingers spur into action, tracing the small mound as he fucks me harder.
I lock eyes with his deep, possessive gaze, and a wave of mindless need crashes into my body. Too overwhelmed to do anything but chase the high, I grip onto his bicep, a soft whine erupting from my lips. Mikhail instantly takes over where my fingers left off, rubbing my clit with the rough surface of his thumb until I can’t think about anything but climbing this high.
“I’m gonna—” I gasp out, pulling him closer.
“Good girl, come for me, baby,” he breathes against my ear, thrusting into me erratically. Then he hits that deep spot again, and that coil inside me snaps, darkening my vision until all I can do is breathe through the deep pleasure pooling through me. Heat and energy swarm my vision, laced with the addictive smell of the man on top of me.
His thrusts speed up, losing all sense of pattern before a deep groan pierces the air, and suddenly I can feel him drip into me, hot and warm and perfect.
We stay lying like that for a few minutes, Mikhail peppering my skin with small, light kisses as I work to catch my breath.
“You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, tilting my face up to his.
“More than okay,” I laugh softly, curling my limbs into the hard warmth of his body. He pulls me closer, tucking my head beneath his chin.
My lashes flutter closed, only opening briefly at the swipe of a warm, damp towel against my overstimulated skin. Then they shut again, overtaken by peaceful, steady exhaustion as I curl into the warm body beside me.
Mikhail
I’d never given much thought to domestic bliss.
In this life, marriage and unions are merely symbols of power and trade. Arrangements for the benefit of stability. Back when Nikolai was our father’s heir, he’d always been expected to marry whoever he had to in order to gain an alliance. Thankfully, I was never expected to marry at all, likely because everyone thought I’d traumatize the poor girl with my cold exterior and issues with touch.
When I examine myself now, happily wrapped around the soft limbs and curves of my woman, enraptured by the way the morning light peaks over her pale shoulder, I feel like a completely unrecognizable man.
Regretfully, I slowly untangle my body from Cassandra’s, conscious not to wake her as I slide my arm out from beneath her head. She curls up on her side with an adorable yawn, a kitten basking in the warm morning glow.
I never thought I’d ever crave another person’s touch, or even be able to stand sleeping next to a woman for the entirety of the night.
But Cass has always been my exception to every single rule.
After all of the fear that crushed into me during the events of last night, that awful burn in my chest as I raced down the road to her, unsure whether I’d make it in time—I’ll be damned if I ever let her leave my side again. I hiss out a breath, thick with emotion, as I wait for the brewing coffee on the kitchen island, that awful anxiety racing into me all over again.
I made sure to keep those fuckers alive so I can enjoy every second of their deaths on my own timeframe. Ivan took them to one of our holding properties last night and is currently waiting for my call on what to do with them next.
It didn’t escape me that my girl didn’t ask me what I was going to do with those bastards lying battered across the floor when she crawled into my arms. I hope it means that some level of her subconscious is actually beginning to place some trust in me, and that thought alone sends thrills of hope down my spine.
I pour the steaming coffee into two cups, adding a splash of cream in hers like Ivan told me she does every morning, then stroll back to the bedroom. I already miss being in her proximity, and returning to her side feels as natural as allowing a pair of magnets to drag back together.
Except when I step back into the room, she’s no longer asleep. Instead, I find her curled onto her elbows, completely engrossed in something she’s reading.
“Mikhail, what in the world is this?” She turns her head to ask, holding up the small book that reads ‘Mikhail’s Feelings Journal’ in big, ridiculous letters on the cover.
Ah, shit. I forgot I left that thing out.
