My breath comes faster, heat pooling low in my stomach as the weight of his body between my knees and the burn of his mouth climbing higher become everything. Instinct takes over. Without thinking, I let my knees fall open, a silent surrender, the motion tugging the skirt of my dress higher over my thighs.
His hand slides up with it, his palm firm on the inside of my thigh now, and the press of his fingers makes me jolt. The air between us grows thick, and his lips move higher, kissing just above where his hand rests.
“Because the second I touch you,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing over skin that’s never been kissed before, “you forget every word you know.”
The smirk that curls against my inner thigh is the last thing I register before I tilt my head back and forget entirely how to breathe.
“Like this wedding tradition,” he says, voice low and deep. When I look down, those piercing grey eyes are locked on me from between my thighs. I freeze. My entire body has been caught in a snare—heart hammering, lungs too tight to breathe.
His fingertips trace the garter, following the delicate band of lace like he has all the time in the world. Once. Twice. The slow, careful drag makes my ears burn so hot I know they’ve turned red.
“Is this for me?” he asks, his voice more like a caress than a question.
I nod, mute.
His hands push my dress higher, bunching the silk and tulle around my hips until the fabric pools in folds at my waist. The motion is unhurried but so purposeful that my whole body leans back, giving him space. Every graze of his knuckles, every brush of his fingertips, makes my breath shorten.
When the garter is fully revealed, he sets his hands on the outside of my thighs. Big. Warm. Anchoring. “You’re so good to me,Moya,” he murmurs, eyes flicking down, then back up to me, “giving me a bow to unwrap on our wedding day, how kind of you.”
My heart stutters. A soft, desperate sound escapes my throat. “Yeah-”
Then he leans in. His lips touch the edge of the garter first, warm and unbearably soft. I jolt, and before I can recover, he opens his mouth, his teeth catching the lace.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, gripping the table so hard my fingertips hurt.
He looks up at me as he bites, the stormy grey of his eyes holding mine, and the intensity in them makes every thought scatter.
With slow, controlled precision, he tugs. The lace stretches, then slides down my leg, inch by inch, his mouth following. My pulse pounds everywhere—neck, wrists, the inside of my thighs. His breath fans over my skin, the faint scrape of his teeth burning into me.
“You’re blushing,” he says around the fabric, voice muffled, teasing. “Your ears always give you away.”
“I—” My voice cracks, words dying on my tongue.
The garter slides past my knee, and he adjusts his grip, flicking his tongue briefly against the inside of my leg as he does. The sudden contact rips a gasp from my chest, my knees twitching to close, but his hands are firm on my thighs, keeping me open.
“Keep them right there,” he says, tone calm, commanding, filthy. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
His words slam into me, and my entire chest goes tight.
By the time he drags the garter to my toes, I’m shaking. My head tips back as he drops the lace from his teeth, catches it in his hand, and lets it fall to the floor like it means nothing.
He presses a kiss to the inside of my knee, slow and lingering, his lips hot against my skin.
“You are… so unfair,” I manage, voice breaking.
He looks up, mouth still brushing my skin, and smirks. “I think,” he says, voice like a promise, “I think I’ll keep it.”
His gaze drops lower. Then back up, hotter this time. He tilts his head, his mouth curving into something dangerous.
“There,” he murmurs, his voice roughening as his thumb presses higher on my thigh. “Looks like you’ve got something else for me.”
I try to force words out, but nothing comes. Aleksandr’s cool grey eyes aren’t even on my face anymore—they’re fixed lower, locked on the lacy white panties I put on this morning, the ones Nadia insisted I wear as a confidence booster for the tailor session. Heat rushes up my neck, and I can feel my pulse everywhere. A reckless, traitorous part of me wants to tilt my hips, open my legs and say the words I shouldn’t:yes, everything you’re looking at is yours—take it.But instead I just stare at him, mute, my chest rising and falling too fast, my heart a wild, hammering thing trapped inside me.
“You’re going to have to use your words,Moya.” Aleksandr teases, his breath brushing against the wetness of my panties, cooling my center.
My mouth opens and closes, no words coming out.
“I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me,Moya.” He starts to pull away, and I grab his hand so fast I feel myself going dizzy. He just smiles. That pearly white, rare, earth-shattering smile, and before I can stop myself, I say it. “Are you mine to do anything I want with?”
