A quiet sound escapes my throat as he carries me effortlessly across the room, his mouth never leaving mine. Hislips keep working against mine with slow insistence, stealing every rational thought, every worry, out of my head one by one.
The mattress dips beneath my back when he sets me down on top of it. Still kissing me, Maksim hovers above me, bracing himself on either side of my body on his hands, careful not to crush me beneath the weight of him.
But I want him to. I want all of it—the warmth of his bare body against mine, the pressure of his touch, the feeling of his mouth dragging down my neck and to the rest of my body until the noise in my head quiets and the only thing I can feel is him.
He pulls back just enough for his eyes to flick over my face like he’s trying to reassure himself I’m really here. My hand cups the back of his neck, fingers weaving into his hair.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper.
His forehead lowers to press against mine, his breath mixing with mine. “Neither am I,Milaya.”
Then he kisses me again, and this time it’s deeper, hungrier, the promise we just made sealed between us that neither of us can walk away from now.
And truthfully? I don’t want to. I never do.
Not even when I’m forced to betray him.
His hands roam down my sides, gripping my hips, sliding beneath the hem of my shirt until his palms meet bare skin. The warmth of his touch sears into me, and I shiver against him, arching up to meet every caress.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips, the word half-groan, half a confession.
He pulls my shirt up and over my head, tossing it aside before kissing me again. I do the same to him, desperate to feel his skin against mine as I strip him. The first brush of chest to chest makes my breath catch, the heat of him sinking into me, leaving me dizzy.
When his mouth trails down my throat to the hollow of my collarbone, I thread my fingers through his hair again and hold on tight, gasping his name when his teeth graze lightly over sensitive skin.
He shifts, bracing himself on one arm while the other slides down to my thigh, coaxing it around his hip. I obey instantly, pulling him closer, anchoring us together until there’s no space left between us.
The rhythm of his kisses, the rough glide of his hands, the weight of his body—it all blurs into something all-consuming. Every piece of me aches for him, every thought dissolves until only one thing matters: us.
When he’s done marking me, he finally pulls back, his lips swollen, his teeth having left their trail of heat and ownership along my skin. He parts from me only long enough to rid us both of the rest of our clothes.
I shiver despite the air between us feeling molten. Every second stretched thin until my chest aches with anticipation.
Then his hands are on me again, unyielding in their demands to touch every inch of me. He presses my thighsapart with a patience that makes me tremble, spreading me wide until there’s nowhere left to hide. His gaze drops down between my legs, hungry and reverent all at once when he finally sees how wet I am..
Heat shoots straight through me.
“Moya krasavitsa,” he mutters under his breath. His fingertips trace a featherlight path down the inside of my thigh, teasing closer until every nerve in my body is screaming for more.
“Tell me what that means. What everything you call me means,” I beg.
“Moya krasavitsa,” He says, repeating the words. His fingers circle around my entrance, not yet dipping inside. “My beauty.Moya lyubimaya,my love.Moya milaya,my sweetheart.Moya solnyshko,my little sun.”
His slow moving fingers make the pressure building up inside of me almost unbearable. My hips jerk and my body shudders, the desperation for him to give me some for of relief,any, is overwhelming.
Finally, when his fingers slip against me it’s with an aching slowness, sliding through my wetness before moving deep. The stretch and the pace slow are almost cruel. My body jolts again, a gasp tumbling from my lips before I can catch it.
He watches me intently, every reaction, every flutter of my lashes, every arch of my back cataloged like I’m his favorite scripture. His eyes don’t waver from me or my core, his chest rising and falling with ragged control.
The fingers pump in and out of me steadily. Each thrust pulls another sound from me, another desperate whimper that I can’t seem to silence. I breathe his name, broken and breathless, over and over again like a chant as if he’s the only thing tethering me to this earth.
The rhythm builds, dragging my hips into motion, rocking in time with his hand. The world narrows to nothing but the slide of his hand and the curling of his fingers inside me.
But just when the pressure builds enough to send me spiraling, he pulls back, leaving me achingly empty. I whimper at the loss, my head tossing against the pillow.
He chuckles at me, his hands tighten on my thighs to spread me even wider. Before I can breathe his name again, to beg him to show me mercy, his mouth replaces his fingers.
The first stroke of his tongue has my whole body ripping with heat. A sharp cry breaks free of my throat, echoing across the room but Maksim doesn’t stop, doesn’t give me time to catch my breath. He devours me slowly in an unrelenting pace.
