“God, you’re so deep.” I gasp, grabbing his forearm, the sensation of fullness bordering on too much, yet somehow still not enough.
“Push that fine ass back against me, just like that,” Misha encourages, his words thick with lust as I do what he says. “Shit, I love it when you wiggle like that.”
I wiggle some more, my movements eliciting a guttural moan from him, his grip on me tightening as he struggles to maintain his rhythm.
“You’re driving me crazy. That feels so good,” he murmurs, his words a tangible caress against the skin of my neck. “I don’t have the words for how you feel.” He circles my clit with expert precision, the kind of skill that only comes from knowing someone’s body. Misha fucks me steadily, each thrust sending me spiraling closer to the edge, but he’s panting himself. “I wanna come with you, tell me when. I’m so damn close.”
The tension is coiling within me, a tight spring just waiting to release but not quite yet. “I need more,” I demand, the words spilling out somewhere between a plea and a command.
“Take your time, I can manage.” He laughs, the sound rich with desire as he squeezes my nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through me.
Finally, I feel my climax building with a force that’s about to crash over me. “I’m going to come,” I warn him, the words barely audible over the sound of our bodies moving together.
“That’s my girl, come on my cock,” Misha urges in a harsh whisper in my ear.
His words are the final push I need, and as I shatter around him, he follows me into the abyss.
The aftershocks of our shared climax gradually ebb away, leaving us both sated and breathless. I pull Misha’s arms around me and cling to him. He’s panting softly against my neck, his hot breath a welcome tickle against my sweat-slicked skin. My limbs feel like jelly, the lingering pulses of pleasure making it impossible for me to move.
“God, I love you,” he whispers huskily in my ear, his lips brushing against the shell in a way that makes me shiver as he pulls out of me. He begins to trail gentle kisses along my shoulder. “So many places to kiss…” he murmurs, turning me so I’m lying on my back. He leans over me, pressing his lips to my collarbone. “I want to kiss every inch of you…”
I laugh weakly, my fingers tracing idle patterns on his back. “You might run out of time… it’s a lot of inches.”
His laughter vibrates through us, and I feel the rumble in my chest where it’s pressed flush against his. “Challenge accepted,” he retorts with mock seriousness.
“Careful now,” I tease, feeling more lighthearted than I have in days. “You’re making promises you might not be able to keep.”
He grins unrepentantly, placing another kiss on the curve of my breast before giving my nipple a teasing flick with his tongue. “With you? I’ll find the time.”
Misha’s kisses become softer, more languid. He explores my body with a sense of reverence that I’ve come to cherish, his lips following a path down my sternum, across the plane of mystomach, pausing to dip his tongue into my navel and eliciting a squeal of laughter.
“Ticklish?” he inquires, feigning innocence as he blows a raspberry on the sensitive skin.
“Stop it, you nutter!” I squeak, trying to squirm away, but he pins me down with ease, his strong hands splayed across my hips.
“Mmm, I like it when you’re splayed out like a feast just for me,” he growls out playfully, his dark gaze sweeping over my exposed skin with unbridled appreciation.
The playfulness fades, replaced by a look of tenderness that takes my breath away. Misha brushes a strand of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear in a gesture so achingly sweet that my heart stutters in response.
“I’ve got you, Bug,” he says softly, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead. “You’re safe with me. Always.”
My throat tightens with emotion at his words. It’s not just about sex—it’s about the connection, the intimacy, the way Misha looks at me as if I’m the only girl in the world.
“I know,” I whisper back. “I trust you.”
And I feel it in my bones.
I really do.
“I trust you too.” He smiles a smile that seems to light up the room with its brilliance. “I’m going to get us something to clean up with, and then I want to hold you until you fall asleep, okay? We can sleep another hour or so before we have to get to work.”
I nod, too exhausted and content to form words. Misha carefully extricates himself from the tangle of our limbs and rises from the bed. I watch him with sleepy eyes, admiring the blurry view as he walks toward the en suite bathroom. His perfect ass is on full display, and despite the languor that seeps into my bones, I can’t help but appreciate the sight.
My eyelids begin to droop, and I feel myself sinking into the mattress, cocooned in a cloud of post-coital bliss.
By the time Misha returns with a warm, damp cloth and a tender smile, I’m already on the cusp of sleep. He wipes me clean, then kisses my stomach, hip, and inside of my thigh before disposing of the cloth and climbing back into bed.
He gathers me in his arms, and I snuggle against him, my head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart—a lullaby more powerful than any drug. “I love you,” I murmur drowsily.
