"Turn around," I murmur. "I want to see you."
She turns, and I finally get the view I've been craving. Her cheeks are flushed, lips parted, eyes dark with arousal she probably doesn't even recognize for what it is yet. The white lace barely contains her breasts, and I can see her nipples hard against the fabric.
Perfect.
"I'm going to undress now," I tell her, watching her face. "And then I'm going to take you to bed and show you exactly what it means to be my wife."
Her breath catches, but she nods.
I shed my jacket first, then my shirt, deliberately slow so she has time to adjust. Her eyes widen as she takes in the tattoos covering my chest and arms. Most women find them intimidating. Matilda just looks fascinated.
"Can I..." She reaches out tentatively, then pulls back. "Can I touch them?"
"You can touch anything you want." I catch her hand and press it flat against my chest, right over my heart. "I'm yours as much as you're mine."
The words seem to unlock something in her. Her fingers trace one of the symbols inked into my skin with careful curiosity.
"What does this mean?"
"It's the mark of my position. Pakhan." I guide her hand lower, let her feel the way my muscles tense under her touch. "Every mark tells a story. I'll tell you all of them eventually. But not tonight."
I lift her easily, and she wraps her arms around my neck instinctively as I carry her to the bed. The sheets are cool anddark against her pale skin as I lay her down, and for a moment I just look at her.
Mine.
The thought makes something possessive and primal surge through me.
I follow her down, caging her beneath me with my arms on either side of her head. "If anything hurts, if you want me to stop or slow down, you tell me. Understand?"
She nods.
"Words, Matilda."
"I understand."
"Good girl."
She responds well to praise, and I file that information away for later. She likes being told she's good. Likes the approval.
I'm going to use that.
I kiss her slowly at first, relearning the taste of her mouth, the way she responds when I deepen the kiss. Her hands come up to grip my shoulders, nails digging in slightly when I suck on her lower lip.
My hand slides down her side, feeling every curve, every soft inch of her. The clasp of her bra opens easily, and I peel the lace away to reveal her breasts. Fucking perfect. I lower my head and take one nipple into my mouth, and the sound she makes, a half gasp, half moan, makes my cock throb.
I lavish attention on her tits, sucking and licking until she's writhing beneath me, her hands tangled in my hair. I have to adjust myself to relieve some of the pressure building there.
"Gennady, please—"
"Please what?" I move to her other breast, giving it the same treatment.
"I don't know," she admits, breathless. "I just—I need—"
"I know what you need." My hand slides down her stomach to the waistband of her panties.
I slip my hand inside the lace and find her wet and hot and ready for me. The discovery makes me groan as precum leaks from the tip of my cock.
"Fuck, Matilda. You're soaked."
