“Good,” Dmitri says, his right thumb hovering over the swell of my left breast. “Now, hands above your head.”
I raise my hand above my head, and Dmitri lets out a low, satisfied sound that seems to vibrate right through the spot between my legs. Something about the command—and the feeling of being so exposed, so vulnerable to him—sends a jolt of unexpected pleasure through me.
He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra, throwing it aside. He pauses, his dark eyes feasting avidly on my puckered nipples. I squirm under his heated gaze. Electric tingles shoot throughmy veins, pulsing through my blood. I've never been so aware of my body, never knew I was capable of feeling such intense sensations.
He leans forward and presses his mouth against mine, his tongue sliding against mine in a deep, thorough kiss. Then he pulls back, and a groan of protest rises in my throat. I try to pull his head back to mine, but Dmitri chuckles and catches my wrists, pressing them firmly back above my head.
“Patience,kukolka,” he says, a slow smirk tilting his lips. “Keep your hands where I can see them. Let me worship your body.”
I nod my head, my skin flushing hot. I can barely think, much less talk.
“Good girl,” Dmitri says, and the praise sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine. He leans forward and kisses the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, my neck, my shoulder—slowly... his lips leaving a trail of fire on my skin.
He keeps one hand wrapped around my wrists, pinning them firmly above my head, while his other hand begins to explore my body. The restraint makes everything more intense somehow—like all my sensation is concentrated in the places he’s touching me.
I try to move my hands, testing his grip, and he tightens it, pressing my wrists more firmly into the mattress.
“I said don’t move,” he reminds me, his voice a low growl. “Be a good girl for me.”
The commanding tone sends another wave of heat through me. I didn’t know I wanted this—to be held down, to be told what to do, to surrender control—but my body responds to it like it’s exactly what I’ve been craving.
He traces the curve of my breast, thumbs my nipple until I whimper, then trails lower, over my stomach, toward the place still slick and sensitive from what he did to me in the kitchen.
“Please,” I breathe, though I’m not sure what I’m begging for.
“Please, what?” His fingers hover at my entrance, teasing but not entering. “Tell me what you want, kukolka.”
“Touch me. Please.”
“Good girl. Asking so nicely.” He rewards me by sliding one finger inside, and I moan at the intrusion. It feels strange and wonderful all at once—the stretch, the fullness, the intimate invasion. He curls his finger, finding that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyes.
“There?” he asks, though he clearly knows the answer.
“Yes—oh God, yes—”
He adds a second finger, stretching me further, and begins to thrust slowly. His thumb finds my clit, circling with just enough pressure to make me writhe against the sheets.
He increases his pace, his fingers pumping faster, his thumb working my clit with devastating precision. The pressure builds again, faster this time because I’m already so sensitive, so primed from before.
“Come for me,kukolka,” he commands. “I want to feel you fall apart on my fingers.”
I break with a sob, my inner walls clenching around him, my whole body shaking with the force of it. He works me through it, prolonging the pleasure until I’m gasping and oversensitive and nearly incoherent.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs against my temple. “So beautiful when you come.”
When I finally come down, he releases my wrists and brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean while holding my gaze.
“You taste like heaven,” he says.
I should be embarrassed. Instead, I feel powerful. Desired. Wanted.
I let go of my legs and place both my arms over my face, suddenly mortified by how completely I’d surrendered. Dmitri gently pushes my arms apart, exposing me to his heated gaze again.
“Don’t hide from me,” he says, his deep voice settling somewhere deep within my heart. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, Mireille. I want you so badly...” He trails off, and for a moment, he looks like he’s really battling himself. Then he leans down and places a lingering kiss on my forehead. “You’re mine,kukolka.Mine.”
And suddenly, I want to make him feel the way he’s made me feel.
“Dmitri,” I say, surprised by the steadiness of my own voice. “I want to touch you.”
