Every time he touches me, Miko sets my soul on fire. His kisses melt away the stress and anxiety that have been plaguing me since my walk in the garden with Sora.
This, here, now, with Miko hovering above me, his powerful hips spreading my thighs, is one area of our relationship that I don’t have to doubt anymore.
If I’ve learned one thing in the month we’ve been married, it’s that sex with Miko will always be out of this world.
His talent when it comes to bringing me to climax is astonishing, and where I used to dread being alone with Pyotr, I find myself craving Miko’s touch, wishing for a stolen moment in his busy schedule.
His lips chase away the dark shadows that linger at the corners of my mind, promising only pleasure and euphoria in his capable hands.
“You’re sodamnbeautiful,” he growls against my skin, his hands following his lips as he blazes a trail down my curves. “Takeoff your top,” he commands, the note of authority in his voice releasing butterflies in my belly.
My hands are moving to obey him before I have time to process, and a shiver races down my spine as he drags my shorts off while I’m momentarily blinded by the shirt coming over my head.
I toss the shirt aside, raking in a deep breath at the sudden sense of freedom. Then Miko falls on top of me, his lips claiming mine with a fiery kiss.
My skin tingles, my core tightening as my clit starts to pulse with anticipation. Like some kind of sexual Pavlovian effect, my body is so attuned to Miko by now, just the sound of his voice makes me wet. A fact that seems to satisfy him to a sinful degree.
“God, I can’t wait to be inside you,” he growls, his hips rocking forward to grind against me as he dry humps me through his jeans. “Take off my belt.”
I don’t quite know what to make of my body’s response to his commands.
He feels more bold tonight, and I like the dark promise in the rasp of his voice.
But at the same time, a tingling sense of foreboding lingers at the nape of my neck, and goosebumps prickle across my skin with each directive.
Reaching between my spread thighs, I find the soft leather of his belt and tug.
The buckle gives easily, the creamy Italian hide slithering effortlessly through his belt loops, and I gasp when it slides free with a soft snap.
“Good girl,” Miko praises, his lips ghosting along my clavicle and down to my breasts.
His mouth closes around one taut nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as he suctions me against his lips, and swirls the hard nub until I whimper.
His hand palms my other breast, his finger and thumb trapping my nipple and giving it a sharp twist.
I cry out as pain-laced pleasure lances through my core, and a flood of arousal gushes from my depths to coat my already-slick folds.
He’s never been so rough with me before, but I find it strangely erotic—even as that tingling along my nape intensifies.
“Tell me you want my cock,” Miko commands, looking up at me from his meal of my breasts as his lips brush across the tender flesh.
His breath feels warm against the wet skin, and a biting cold follows in its absence.
“I want your cock,” I whisper, my legs quivering with anticipation.
With a smug smirk, Miko rears back to strip his jeans and boxers.
Then he falls on top of me once more, our bodies aligning perfectly.
“Are you ready for me,topolina?” he breathes against my throat, and my brain finally registers the scent that lingers around him tonight.
Whiskey. He and his brothers were drinking. And the warm, smokey smell lingers on his lips.
My breath catches, the oxygen freezing in my lungs as he takes his cockhead and strokes it between my folds, gathering my juices on his swollen tip.
He groans, the sound like a live wire jolting through my core, and my walls clench, desperate to pull him inside me.
“Always so eager for me,” he rasps. “Aren’t you?”
