“I have…oh god,” My eyes roll, my body coils.
Another orgasm rips through with such intensity my body shakes with it. My vision blurs, and my throat stretches around the cries I’m unleashing.
He doesn’t stop; he goes harder, faster, slapping my ass as he plows into me. A grunt, a moan, it all melts together with my own sounds.
Releasing my hair, he grabs my hips with both hands. Slamming me back at him, he fills me again and again, then stills, groaning as his own release sweeps him away.
Tender and breathless, I ease onto my stomach after he lets go of my hips. He leans over, kisses the small of my back, right over my ass.
“Such a good girl,” he whispers, so softly, I’m not sure I’m supposed to hear it.
I roll to my side, yanking my bra back in place, and watch as he slips off the bed and saunters into the attached bathroom. It takes a few moments for my brain to clear of all the endorphins his cock just brought to life.
When he comes back from the bathroom, he’s wearing a smile and a new pair of boxers.
Sinking onto the bed, he wipes his fingers across my forehead, pushing the hair that’s stuck to me away.
“I ordered some food. It will be here soon.” He leans over and kisses me.
This one is tender, soft. A kiss a girl could get lost in.
“You ordered food from the bathroom?” I push up to my elbows.
He smiles. “There’s a phone in there.”
“Really?” I laugh. “In the bathroom?”
“It came in handy.” He runs his fingertips along my jaw. “You want a drink?”
“Maybe some water?” I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and pad over to the dresser.
“What are you doing?” He pushes the drawer closed from behind me.
“Getting my dress.”
“I said you can have it back when I give it to you.” He kisses my bare shoulder. “There’s a robe in the closet if you want.”
I tilt my head, letting him kiss his way up my neck.
“A robe will do.”
It’s thin, but soft as a cloud. A doorbell rings as I tie the belt around my middle.
“It’s probably the food.”
“Already? That’s fast.” I find a pair of slippers in the closet while he goes to answer the door.
It’s not the food.
It’s a man and Dmitri doesn’t sound pleased to be talking to him. When I enter the living room, Dmitri’s alone.
“I thought I heard someone talking,” I drop my shoe next to the one I left in the living room and sink onto the couch.
“It was nothing. The food will be here in a few minutes. I’m going to take a shower.” He stops at the couch where I’m leaning against the arm.
“You okay?” I ask.
His brow is furrowed. Tension fills his expression.
