"Slow this time," she whispers. "I want to feel all of you."
"Relax, malyshka. You’ll get every inch of me. Every fucking throbbing inch." I press forward. Slow. So slow it borders on torture. Her body opens for me, her walls stretching to accommodate my width, and the wet heat grips me in tight pulses that make my arms shake.
She sighs softly and I can feel my balls swelling with the need to release. Not yet. God not yet, but when I do, there’s no way this woman–my woman–will walk away from this encounter not pregnant. Just the idea of her swollen with my child makes my cock harder.
I have no idea if she’s on the pill. Neither of us has discussed it. That needs to change. If she is, she can toss it. This woman will be the mother of my children. Fuck it. I don’t care if her father is sitting at the top of my shit list. I want her and I’m not letting her go.
That talk can come later. Right now I’m going to worship my little flame and make her come for me.
I push all the way inside her tight channel. The sound she makes when I'm fully seated is new. A low, trembling moan that vibrates through her chest and into mine. She wraps around me, legs hooked behind my back, arms circling my shoulders, and the sensation of being held by this woman, truly held, closes my throat.
I move. Slow, deep strokes that drag against every nerve ending. I watch her face, every flicker of pleasure, the way her brow furrows and her lips part and her eyes struggle to stay open.
"Look at me." My voice comes out raw with all the emotions swelling in my chest. "Don't close your eyes."
Her eyes lock on mine. Blue on black. The walls between us crumble with every thrust, every shared breath.
"You feel incredible." Her voice breaks on the last word. Her nails trace down my back, not in violence but in desperation. "Every time, Kon. Every time it feels..."
"I know." I drop my forehead to hers. Our breath mingles in the narrow space between us. "Ya znayu, ??????," I murmur, kissing her cheek.
I angle my hips and find the spot inside her that makes her keen, grinding against it with every measured thrust. Her back arches, her breasts pressing against my chest, her nipples dragging against my skin.
"Don't stop." Her hands grip my shoulders, fingers digging into muscle. "Please don't stop."
"Never." And I mean it with every damn fiber of my being.
Her orgasm builds slowly this time, rolling through her body in visible waves, her skin flushing from chest to cheeks, her walls tightening around me in escalating pulses. When she breaks, she breaks quietly. A long, shuddering exhale. My name breathed against my lips. Her body clenching around me so tight the pleasure borders on pain.
I follow her over. Bury myself to the hilt and let go, my release spilling into her in hot, pulsing waves. I press my face into the curve of her neck and groan against her skin, tasting salt, breathing her in.
We lie tangled together, chests heaving, heartbeats finding each other through sweat-dampened skin.
"That was different," she murmurs against my shoulder.
"Da."
"Different good or different complicated?"
Damn. I could live in this moment forever. "Both," I admit because she has no idea I’m not letting her go. Her wish neversaid anything about keeping her. But the heart wants what it wants and in this case my heart, body, and soul crave this woman.
She laughs, a soft, sleepy sound that vibrates through my chest. "You and your one-word answers."
I run my hands through her hair, the silky strands falling over my chest. "You and your endless questions."
Her fingers trace lazy patterns through the barbed wire inked across my ribs. The silence between us is warm. Full.
"The roses in the tattoo," she says, her fingertip following a petal inked over my ribcage. "They grow through the wire."
"Da."
"Is that intentional?"
"Everything about them is intentional, yes."
She turns her head and meets my gaze, her eyes full of questions and curiosity. And also compassion. "Will you tell me why? Someday? It doesn’t have to be now."
I press my lips to her hair. "Someday."
