Page 73 of The Russian's Bought Bride

Shuffling back, I leave his lap and carefully kneel on the floor, getting between his legs while I look up at him, fingers trailing along his thighs.

Recognition immediately floods his features, and a ragged breath slips from his lips. “Dani…”

His tone sounds one part warning and the other resigned, and the gleam in his gaze gives away how much this appeals to him.

“What?” I ask innocently, slowly moving higher and testing the boundary.

The inner war he wages inside himself is clear through his features, torn between setting the pace himself and letting me take the lead. He watches me with heavily lidded eyes anyway, looking even more affected now.

“You don’t want to start this here.”

“But I do.”

Nikolai curses under his breath, but before he can argue, he’s unbuckling his belt with more urgency now, looking both eager and vaguely ashamed of himself for not standing his ground. Regardless of his attempted restraint, he’s already pressing against the front of his slacks.

“You still didn’t say it…”

Ignoring him, I pull his fly down and free him without further preamble, and I watch as he tenses before exhaling with subtle relief.

“Too bad.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, head tipping back at the feeling of my fingers wrapping around him. Color fills his cheeks as he pants softly, like he’s bracing himself. “You’re being a brat.”

Something about that claim sends a thrill down my spine, and I hum, completely unashamed now as the drinks from before help loosen my inhibitions. I stroke him slowly, soaking in every subtle reaction from him.

“Good.”

The moment I press my lips against him, Nikolai groans, bringing a hand up instinctively to cover his mouth. His hips jolt before he forces them down again, and his opposite hand reaches for my hair. “Dani…goddamn. You’re going to pay for this.”

Liking the sound of that more than I should, I push my luck even more and slowly take him into my mouth.

At that, his breaths come out more fragmented while he tries to hold himself back. He stays as still as he can, but while his eyes slide shut and he succumbs to every sensation, he can’t avoid the subtle thrusts upward for long.

I keep a steady pace, moving with surprising confidence as I take as much as I can, listening to and feeling his every reaction. Whenever I do something that makes him strain or suck in a breath, I do it again, taking immense satisfaction in making him squirm.

There’s something addicting about watching the usually composed Nikolai crumble piece by piece, and it’s all because of me.

By the time he’s panting harder and fighting to keep his sounds back, he pulls at my hair a bit harder, tugging me back before he can reach the edge sooner than anticipated.

I go to protest, but he’s hauling me back into his lap, mouth crashing against mine before I can get a word in. Surrounded by him all over again, I melt into it, forgetting all about it the moment he undoes my jeans and starts working them down.

“Your turn,” Nikolai murmurs against my lips before capturing my bottom lip between his teeth, mirroring my previous gesture.

That spreads more heat through my system, and my breath catches at the immediate pressure of his fingers against the front of me, pressing into the soft fabric just enough to be deliberate.

He hums, tracing the faintest circle against me, taking note of my every shift and hitched breath. “Don’t assume you’re off the hook. I still want you to say it.”

Regardless of the position he has me in, that defiance rings true still, and I huff out a soft breath. “No.”

“No?” He asks, cocking a brow at me while slowly teasing me without giving me what I want. When I squirm in his lap, his amusement gleams in his eyes. “You sure?”

He pushes the fabric aside without warning, sliding his fingers along me and testing just how ready I am for him. A satisfied grin settles on his lips as he slowly inserts one inside me. “You like disobeying me too much...I shouldn’t be doing this for you at all.”

Instantly, my legs feel weak as he touches me, wearing down my resistance little by little. I try to hold out as long as I can, but when he prods deeper and uses his thumb against my clit, I cave.

“You have my permission,” I manage to say in between shaky breaths, thighs squeezing around his hand. “I want this.”

The corners of his lips pull again, and he drops all attempts at holding back for the sake of making a point. “That was all I needed to hear.”