I moan softly as I lick the inside of his mouth, and we kiss and kiss until I think we’ll never stop kissing. Until I hear his shallow breathing and remember the state of his injuries.
It takes me some effort to pull myself off him. His cock slips out of me, bobbing against his abs, cum still coating it.
And I wrap my lips around it, sucking him clean.
“Fuuuck,” Yulian grunts as I pull his now half-erect cock out of my mouth. “Why did you stop?”
“I just wanted to clean you.”
“Rude.” He pouts, palming his cock. “I thought it was round two. Love that thing you do with your tongue when you go down on me.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. So come and finish it.”
“No, this was enough exertion for one night.” I stroke his face, my cum-soaked finger pushing against his lip and he swallows it, sucking it dry.
I growl, then remove my hand, because at this rate, he’ll just make us fuck again.
“Tomorrow.” I step back. “We’ll do it tomorrow.”
“I don’t want tomorrow,” he whispers.
Yulian watches me with darkened eyes as I walk to the bathroom, probably seeing his cum sliding down my legs. If he were okay, he’d be licking that and shoving it right back into my ass.
I quickly clean myself, then get a wet towel and clean him up and change his bandages. The whole time, he keeps running his hands everywhere—my back, my chest, but mostly my inner thigh, where the tattoo is.
And I’m trying not to freak out that I told him I love him in the throes of an orgasm. I want to think it’s a fluke or that it was said in the heat of passion, but really, I’ve been in love with Yulian for longer than I care to admit.
Now, I’m feeling hurt that he didn’t say it back. Honestly, Yulian says I’m coldhearted, but I’m not the one who responded to a love confession with silence.
When I’m done with the bandages, I lie beside him.
“Nope.” He taps his chest on his good side. “Right here.”
“That might hurt.”
“Just come here.”
I slowly place my head there, kind of missing when he crushes me into the bed.
Yulian hooks his leg with mine and smiles lazily, closing his eyes.
It’s probably not the right time to broach the subject, but the sooner he knows about my plan, the better.
“Baby?” I ask.
“Mmm?”
“What do you think about living here—not here at my uncles’ estate, but in a similar private one?”
He slowly opens his eyes. “Don’t you have your family and responsibilities in New York?”
“We can do New York as well. As long as we’re together, the place doesn’t matter.”
He says nothing, just closes his eyes again, then he whispers, “Whatever you wish, baby.”
He says something else, but I don’t hear him as I doze off with my head buried in the crook of his neck.
