“You think I’m joking?” His Russian-laced words come out like a growl, provocative, deliberately untranslatable to anyone around us. I feel the edge in them and the threat lurking underneath.
I tilt my head, heart hammering. “Maybe,” I whisper.
He captures my lips with a rough kiss, claiming, urgent, dark. My body betrays me instantly, pressing closer and craving more. Every nerve screams and surrenders all at once.
By the look in his eyes, I’m guessing that Adrian lied once again.
“Oh,” I whisper. “Well, I didn’t enjoy it as much as being kissed by you.” I bring my body to his, my eyebrows carving with sympathy.
“But you enjoyed it,” he replies, his hand sliding along my hip, pulling my dress up so he can hook the lace of my black thong.
I look at him, heat rising between my thighs, needing him.
“Hands,” he hisses against my ear while sliding both cuffed hands to the wall above me, trapping me in place. “Stay still.”
I swallow hard, teasing a breathless laugh. “I’m hardly going anywhere, Nik.”
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t need to. The way his body vibrates and his eyes burn with possession, says enough. Every touch, every brush, every whispered word—he owned the space, and for a long second, he owned me.
An intense exhale escapes me when his lips move down my neck, teeth grazing, hands roaming with careful ferocity. I gasp, arching into him despite every warning in my mind.
“You don’t get to think about him,” he growls, all edge and dark intent. “Not here. Not now. Only me.”
I bite my lip, trying to protest, but failing utterly. The cuffs pinch as I try to shift, and he presses just enough to keep me pinned. His breath hot, his hands relentless. I feel dizzy with the intensity, part fear, part desire, part thrill.
Then he takes a knee, ripping my thong off and leaving me bare beneath my dress.
He puts a hand on my chest, guiding me back into the ledge so my body can rest. Then he forces my legs apart, taking a moment to admire my wetness. “You’re mine,” he whispers, rough, urgent, almost a warning.
Then he simultaneously takes my slit to his mouth and inserts a finger. The overwhelming sensation is driving me wild. Adrian’s kiss, Nikolai’s kiss, his presence and his tongue. I am overwhelmed with pleasure.
I nod, breathless, words failing. “Yours,” I manage, heart hammering in tandem with his pulse against mine.
“Fuck, Nikolai,” I whisper, knowing I have to be quiet, but struggling not to let my moans escape me.
He lifts a leg, bringing it above his shoulder and taking more of me. He inserts another finger, and my body is shaking with pleasure.
“YA sobirayus’ konchit’ tebe na litso, Nikolai.”I’m going to come on your face, Nikolai.
He keeps going, leaving me breathless, coming all over his fingers and tongue.
Looking up in awe, my juice still on him, he looks at me. “Ty tol’ko chto govoril po-russki, moya lyubov’?”Did you just speak Russian, my love?
“Ty dumal, ya potratil shest’ let na obucheniye, chtoby popast’ v tvoi ruki, i ne potrudilsya nemnogo vyuchit’ russkiy? Naivnyy mal’chik.”Did you think I spent six years studying to fall into your hands and didn’t even bother to learn a little Russian? Naive boy.
No, my Russian isn’t perfect. I haven’t been able to understand everything, especially when it’s spoken fast. But I know enough.
He stands with a grin, lifting his fingers to my mouth. “Poprobuy sebya na vkus, moya ognennaya devochka.”Taste yourself, my fiery girl.
I suck them clean, then lick his lips with my tongue, tasting my sweetness.
I look down to the bulge in his pants, ready to take my turn pleasuring him, but he just laughs.
“Later, malyshka, first we need to get you out of here.”
He leaves me with a deep kiss, sliding a small key into my palm without breaking contact, fingers brushing mine, a tether to the world outside.
My mind barely registers it. All I can feel is him.
