"Demanding."
"You like it."
His smile is dark, promising. "I do."
He takes the rest of the stairs two at a time. The bedroom door bangs open, and then I'm on my back on sheets that smell like him, watching as he strips off the bloody shirt and reveals the body underneath.
Christ.
Tattoos cover his chest, his arms, snake up his neck. Wolves and roses and words in a language I don't understand. Scars interrupt the ink—puckered lines that speak of knives, of bullets, of a life that tried to kill him and failed.
He's terrifying.
He's beautiful.
He's mine.
"See something you like?" He echoes my words from the park; the teasing edge sharpened now with something darker.
"Take off your pants, and I'll show you exactly what I like."
He obliges. Belt unbuckling, zipper sliding down, jeans and boxers dropping to the floor. He's thick, hard, already leaking at the tip, and the sight makes my mouth water.
"Your turn." He moves over me, hands finding my waistband. "Up."
I lift my hips and he peels the jeans down my legs, taking my underwear with them. Then we're both naked, skin to skin, nothing between us except the heat we're generating.
"I need to taste you." His voice is rough, wrecked. "Been thinking about it for days. Every time you steal my coffee. Every time you hum in the shower. Wondering if you taste as sweet as you smell."
"Then find out."
He kisses down my body—throat, collarbone, the space between my breasts. His tongue traces my navel, dips lower, and I'm trembling before he even reaches his destination.
The first stroke of his tongue makes me cry out.
He eats me like a man starving, like I'm the only thing keeping him alive. Long, slow licks alternating with focused pressure on my clit. His fingers join his mouth—one sliding inside, then two, curling to find the spot that makes my vision go white.
"Sergei—" I'm gasping, hands fisted in the sheets, hips rolling against his face. "I'm going to?—"
"That's the point." He seals his lips around my clit and sucks.
I shatter.
The orgasm tears through me, wave after wave of release that leaves me boneless and shaking. He works me through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks fade, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs.
"Good?" he asks, chin glistening.
"Get up here."
He crawls up my body, and I pull him down for a kiss, tasting myself on his tongue. It should be dirty, obscene. Instead, it feels intimate in a way that makes my chest ache.
"I need you inside me." I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Now."
He positions himself at my entrance but doesn't push in. Just holds there, tip teasing my slick folds, watching my face with an intensity that makes me squirm.
"Sergei. Please."
"Please what?"
