A shiver goes down my spine at the word, and I’m suddenly aware of just what kind of effect he’s had on me. Just from kissing.
My core pulses with want. I lick my lips, trying to decide how to tell him and land on taking his hand, guiding it down between my legs.
His thick fingers slip beneath the band of my sweatpants easily. I don’t miss how he holds his breath, brows knit as he seeks out my heat slowly. He presses two fingers over my clit, over the simple cotton underwear I have on, and I whine and rock my hips up.
“You want this?” he rumbles, dipping down to press a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth.
“Yes,” I whisper back, chasing his fingers again, rolling my hips.
Kaz buries his face in my neck and moves earnestly. His fingers hook into the sides of my panties, moving them roughly. Dip into already wet folds. I gasp as he prods at my entrance, taking his time despite the heat and want racing up my spine.
“You’re mine, Alyona,” he murmurs, and all I can do is make a sound of agreement, too focused on how good it feels as he fucks me slowly with his fingers. With all the events of the last week, my body is overwhelmed with this feeling of connection and voracity.
“Please,” I beg, gripping his shoulders and trying to pull him closer. Kaz makes a low rumbling sound in his chest, pressing our bodies together, his hand jammed between us and pumping roughly at a staccato pace that already has me close.
He curses, rolling slightly to the side and shoving his own pants down around his thighs, grasping his cock and giving it two quick pumps. He’s already hard, and it’s obvious from the intensity of our breathing filling the room that this isn’t going to last long.
Kaz sits back on his knees, yanking my sweatpants off and maneuvering his hands under my ass, eyes locked on mine as he slowly slides my panties down my legs. The smirk that graces his lips when he sees my exposed pussy sends a throb right to my clit.
“Come here,” he rasps, pulling me closer by the hips, still on his knees. Gripping his shaft, he teases my clit with the head of his cock, slapping it messily and making me cry out. “You want this,” he murmurs, rubbing himself lazily through my slickness, “don’t you? You’re mine, aren’t you, Alyona?”
I can only nod, words caught in my throat as Kaz leans forward and presses himself intently against my core. The stretch is delicious, aching, and I take him eagerly, pressing my hips up to sheath him further. He groans, thrusting shallow and quick. The rhythm is teasing, unsatisfying, giving me just enough to make me want more.
“Kaz,” I gasp, nipples hard and sensitive despite the fact that he’s barely touched anywhere else but my pussy, “please, please fuck me. I want it. I want you to fuck me.”
He grunts, leaning forward and snapping his hips into mine. Seating his cock fully to the hilt, dragging it out roughly, pumping in again. It’s so unrestrained it’s almost painful, but all I can do is give in. I brace my hands on his shoulders and let him fuck me.
The orgasm hits me so unexpectedly I cry out, half-sitting up as Kaz’s hands settle on my waist and try to hold me down. The room fades away as waves of pleasure crash over and over me. By the time I’m done shaking, Kaz is coming undone himself, falling forward to plant a messy kiss on my neck, his hips stuttering as he comes deep inside me.
“This,” he pants when we’re both spent and sprawled on the bed, “this is what I’ve been waiting for. You.”
His hand gently covers my belly, and it hits me that all this time I’ve been resisting my fate. Now I’m choosing it.
Chapter 35
Alyona
Iround the corner too fast and nearly slam straight into a broad, solid chest. A startled gasp tears out of me as my bouquet jerks sideways, petals scattering against dark fabric. Then two familiar hands catch my elbows before I can stumble backward in my heels.
“Careful,” Kazimir murmurs, low and warm.
My heart ricochets against my ribs as I look up at him.
He’s standing in the narrow hallway behind the church sanctuary like he has every right to be there, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that makes his shoulders look even wider and his waist narrower. His hair, smoothed back into that tight bun, his jaw freshly shaved. Light from the stained-glass spilling through the windows paints faint colors across his cheekbones, softening the hard edges of him into something almost unfairly handsome.
For a second, I can only stare.
“You scared me half to death,” I whisper.
His mouth curves, apologetic but amused. “Sorry,solnyshko.” He’s taken to calling me that—a word I learned means something like sun, an affectionate nod to my blonde hair.
“What are you doing back here?” I hiss, glancing toward the sanctuary doors. “You’re supposed to be up there waiting. That’s how this works.”
“I know how it works,” he says, a faint smile on his lips, as if this is an inside joke.
“Then why are you lurking in the hallway like a mobster about to make a deal?”
His smile widens, slow and wicked. “Because I made you a promise.”
