He leans forward to kiss me, and then he’s inside of me.
The stretch of him overwhelms me with its masculine fullness, and I gasp against his lips while my nails dig into his back.
Finally,something in me exhales.Finally, finally, finally.
He breaks the kiss, pulls back, and stares at me.
“Look at me, Bella,” he commands, and I obey.
And then he starts to move, his eyes never leaving my face as he fucks me.
Behind us, the fire crackles. Above us, the storm still rages outside. And between every thrust, his mouth finds mine.
I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him deeper, and he groans against my throat, and the sound undoes me more than any sensation other than the evidence of his want, the proof that he feels this too.
“Malyshka,” he moans. “Ty takaya krasivaya.”
I don’t know the meaning of any of those words, but I don’t need to. All I care about is that I’m finally clinging to him, my fingernails leaving crescents in his shoulders while the pleasure builds in waves, each one higher than the last.
He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down. I feel so full, so deliciously full from him. I can feel him in my stomach, in my heart, in my throat.
When he draws back to his full length and plunges back in, it hurts so good that I never want it to stop.
This is what it’s like to befucked.
He gives me everything—every stroke meant to hit exactly where I need it, and every kiss is timed to steal my breath away at the perfect moment. He reads my body like a language he’s spent years studying, and anticipates every gasp and shiver before they ever bubble to the surface, and adjusts until I’m shaking on the edge of another orgasm.
Remember this, I tell myself. Remember how it feels to have him inside you. Remember how his sweat tastes. How his hair smells. Remember the sound of his breathing going ragged, the tension in his shoulders under your fingers, and the way his jaw tightens when he’s trying to hold back.
The wave crests without warning. One moment I’m climbing, and the next I’m falling and shattering. My entire body flutters and seizes around him as the orgasm tears through me.
I cry out and then bury my face in his neck. My teeth find his skin because I need something to hold, something to channel my own impossible pleasure into.
The bite sets him going a second later. A groan pulls from somewhere deep in his chest, and before he can pull out, his cock is pulsing inside of me, and my pussy drinks him in greedily. My arms are locked around his back, my legs are still wrapped around his waist, and I refuse to let go.
Don’t end,I think desperately.Don’t end, don’t end, please. Just let us stay here?—
But everything has to end.
Afterward, we lie tangled together on the furs as the fire dies down to embers.
My head is on his chest. His arm is heavy around my shoulders. The necklace has shifted to the side, the gold star resting against my clavicle instead of pressing between us, and I trace idle patterns on his skin with one fingertip.
“I didn’t think it would be like this,” I murmur and press my lips to the tattoo on his chest while my body aches with a delicious soreness.
His chest rumbles with a questioning sound. “Like what?”
Like coming home. Like safety. Like everything I’ve ever wanted and can’t keep.
“Like I can’t ever get enough,” I say, because it’s the truest answer I can give without giving everything away.
His arm tightens around me. His lips brush my hair.
“Who says that this will be enough?” he asks quietly.
I close my eyes and feel the tears that want to come because he doesn’t know. Because hecan’tknow.
I press closer instead of pulling away. My body clinging even as my mind screams that I should confess. Or do anything except lie here letting him hold me while the clock counts down toward the completion of my betrayal.
