“Say it,” he growls. The look in his eyes is animalistic and predatory and possessive, and the combination makes my legs shake and my stomach do a little flip.
“I…” How do I admit that I’m his? I don’t know what this means, where this is going beyond the obvious, or how I’m supposed to react. My body and heart know exactly what they want. It’s my brain that’s struggling—because once I say yes, there won’t be any going back. There won’t be any holding back.
And what will be left of me once I give him everything that matters?
Because that’s what he’s asking for. If possession is nine-tenths of the law, it’s all ten tenths of me.
“This…” He still hasn’t looked away. “Is not part of contract. Not an arrangement. This is us. You. Me. Together. You are my wife.”
“Viktor.” His name is all I can manage as his much larger body presses me into the mattress, his skin warm against mine.
“Say it,” he whispers again, nuzzling my nose with his.
His.
He wants me to tell him I’m his.
When he pushes his tongue into my mouth, a groan of satisfaction leaves my chest. The connection between us is unmistakable, even though it’s only been a few weeks. I’m falling hard and every touch pushes me deeper into an abyss I may never climb out of.
His kisses are mind-numbing and deliberate. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing and how to light me on fire. Everything burns hot between us. Then he pulls away and drops his head, scraping his scruffy beard across the curve of my neck. The throbbing between my legs is incessant, reminding me how good it’s going to be.
All I have to do is give in—give him…me.
I don’t know if I can do it.
But I also don’t think I can say no.
“Maybe this will help convince you…” He starts to move down my body, trailing wet kisses in his wake. His breath is hot against my already overheated skin and when he nuzzles my mound, I shudder involuntarily. He glances up, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, and then moves even further down. Thick fingers slide between my legs, spreading me open, and whatever he says in Russian makes goosebumps break out on my skin.
“Pink,” he whispers. “So pretty.” There’s a little more Russian and then—oh fuck everything. His mouth on my slit feels better than almost anything. Ever. He closes his lips around my clit, coaxing a long, low moan out of me.
“Oh, God, Viktor…”
He flicks and flutters the tip of his tongue. On my clit. On my lower lip. Into my slick entrance. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it and I’m pretty sure he can too. I’m a shivering, quivering mess, and somehow my fingers find their way into his hair.
I drag in a lungful of air but it leaves me again as he continues to tongue fuck me. Two fingers are pinching and kneading my clit, bringing me right to the brink. He’s picked up speed, using his free hand to keep me spread wide open.
My orgasm is barreling down, ready to overwhelm me at any moment. His lips are masterful, keeping me right where he wants me. Heat sweeps over my skin, and every nerve ending starts to tingle.
“Viktor!” His name is a squeal as I come undone, shaking and writhing against his mouth. His fingers. His heat. The climax rolls over me and then with a soft bite on my clit, it hits me again. I shiver from the intensity, my hips jerking as he slowly lifts his head.
The satisfaction I see there mirrors my own.
No one has ever satisfied me quite like this.
Like my husband does.
What the hell does that mean?
“Mine?” he asks simply. Softly. Patiently.
“Are you m-mine?” I counter, my voice shaky, unsteady. Filled with fear and trepidation because his answer will change everything.
“You cannot tell?” He climbs on top of me again, those beautiful emerald orbs laser-focused on mine. “You cannot feel?”
What I feel is his thick, hard erection poised at my entrance.
What I see is his handsome face looking at me with something that might be adoration. There’s lust in there but it’s so much more.
