His hardness throbs against my belly,and a sound rips from his chest—somewhere between a growl and a curse.
Sexy? Yeah, ‘cause hiccups are a total turn-on.
“You’re impossible,” he grits out, but his hands tighten on my hips.
“Ihicknow,” I manage, trying not to giggle as his jaw clenches. Even drunk, I know that look. The same heated look that got me into trouble five years ago. The look that gave me Elijah.
A smirk plays at his lips as he reaches past me, grabbing something from behind. When his hand comes back, there’s a toothbrush. “Open.”
I giggle—actually giggle—as he squeezes paste onto it. “You gonna brush my teeth for me, too,boss?”
His cock twitches against my stomach at the word “boss,” but his face stays stern. “You’re not putting those vodka-soaked lips anywhere near me.”
I take the toothbrush, but my drunk hands make it more challenging than it should be. Minty foam dribbles down my chin. His thumbs stroke my hipbones as I brush, and I can’t tell if he’s steadying me or torturing me.
“You missed a spot,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on my mouth.
“Cree-hic-py,” I manage around the toothbrush, but my nipples tighten under his stare.
We’re standing toe-to-toe, almost brushing against each other. His eyes are locked on mine, dark and wicked.
There’s a first time for everything. The thought bubbles up from nowhere as I watch him watching me brush my teeth. The great Leonid Kuznetsov, feared Bratva boss, making sure I don’t choke on toothpaste. A laugh threatens to bubble up with my next hiccup.
I turn to the sink, needing a moment away from that intense stare. Mint and vodka swirl down the drain as I rinse. In the steam-clouded mirror, his reflection looms behind me, all scarred muscle and dangerous intent. His eyes meet mine in the glass, and my knees wobble. Could be the vodka. Could be the way his gaze is devouring every inch of bare skin, like he’s memorizing where he plans to put his mouth next.
His hand slides up my ribs, and my spine arches instinctively. “Myshka,” he growls against my neck, “I’ll fuck you in the shower.”
“Hic” is my eloquent response because it seems my body’s forgotten how to form actual words. Though, to be fair, it’s hard to be articulate when you’re naked and pressed against two hundred pounds of angry Russian sex god. The shower curtain scrapes against its rusty rod as he maneuvers us inside; water hits tile, changing rhythm as his body blocks the spray. I risk a glance all over him—
Oh, sweet baby Jesus on a motorcycle.
Water sluices down the valleys of his chest muscles, following paths between tattoos and scars that look like they were carved by something meaner than knives. One droplet catches my attention as it slides past his navel, down that thick length that is still pressed hot and hard against my stomach. I make a sound that’s somewhere between a hiccup and a moan.
“It’s hard for you,krasotka,” he growls, but his cock jumps against me. “Suck it.”
“You’re not my boss,” I slur.
“Nyet,” he agrees, and I hear the smile in his voice—the dangerous one. “I’m much worse.”
I try to stand, I really do. But my legs apparently took a vacation to Drunktown without leaving a forwarding address. I sway, and his other hand catches my hip. My hands work on autopilot, reaching down to grab his throbbing cock. It feels hot and heavy in my grip, the heat from his arousal burning into my palms. Oh, fuck. It’s been so long. Too long. My clit pulsates in desperate hunger, my pussy practically drooling at the thought of being filled.
“Don’t worry about standing,” he whispers.
He pushes me down to my knees, a wicked grin on his face. I’m face-to-face with his monster cock, all glistening and veiny.
“Mmm…” My lips part, my tongue swirling around the head, tasting the salty pre-cum that’s already dripping from the tip. Oh God, I need him inside me. I start licking, sucking, devouringhim like a goddamn nympho, swirling my tongue along the shaft, taking as much as I can into my mouth.
His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, urging me to take more. Instead of giving in to his commands, I tease him, moving my mouth lower to his balls. I trace circles around each one with my tongue, taking one into my mouth and gently sucking on it, twirling my tongue in lazy circles. My hand strokes his cock, my fingers circling around the tip, spreading his pre-cum over his shaft like a slick lubricant.
“Fuck,krasotka,” he groans, his hips bucking forward, trying to get me to take him back into my mouth. But I’m in control, and I’m not about to let him call the shots just yet.
I stand up, our bodies pressing against each other, our breathing ragged and eager. With my free hand, I grab his wrist and push it down to my pussy, letting his fingers graze against my wet, throbbing lips.
My eyes lock onto his, my lips curving into a devilish smirk. “Ihicwant your fingers in me, deep and rough. Fuck me with your hand until I come all over it.”
The corners of his lips curve into a devilish smirk. But his eyes, smoldering with desire and dark with lust, fix on me as I stroke his throbbing cock from tip to base, slow and tantalizing.
“Blyat,” he curses, his breath hissing out in a guttural groan.
