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Pleasure radiates through me in jagged stripes. I resist the urge to close my eyes and toss my head back, because then I’d have to stop looking at her. It’s an incredible challenge to stay locked on her flushed face when I’m going blind with desire. Muscles in my core bunch, then tremble as waves of heat take me prisoner. My cock is stiff as fire-hardened steel. I break our stare for a split second, too tempted to look down and see her hand pumping my cock. The visual makes me dizzy.
“Fuck,” I pant.
“I’m ready,” she moans, guiding my cock head toward her. She’s right—her inner thighs are glistening with her juices. I barely thrust forward, and the slickness lets me push inside her warm walls. Her back makes a perfect arc, heels jamming into my spine as she tries to fill herself with more of me. “Oh my God!”
Holding my breath, I endure the slow way she eases me inside of her. I could thrust forward, stuffing myself in to the root, but I refuse. This way lets me experience every millimeter of her soft, tight, flexing pussy. I’m doing all I can to keep this moment from ending.
Every stroke of my cock draws a cry of pleasure from her. The pressure of her milking me creates a knot of tension that continues to build. It’s endless, the force pulsing in me, threatening to tear me apart. I don’t know if I’m going to cum or explode into a thousand pieces.
“I’m close,” she whimpers, driving her hips into me with more insistence. I know she’s going to cum; it’s inevitable. If she didn’t want to, it would still happen. She’s that far gone. I see it in her heavy-lidded eyes … her slack mouth.
Seeing how delirious she is turns me on more. A scorching wave washes over me, making me grit my jaw. My skin is sensitive enough that I feel every single droplet of sweat gliding over my back. One drips from my chin, landing on her chest. I bend down to lick it off, then swing sideways, suckling her nipple.
Her pussy clenches suddenly, and I know she’s going to cum even before she screams.
30
GALINA
Everyone in the house must have heard me scream. I don’t know how they wouldn’t—the sound is echoing off the walls, the ceiling, and bouncing back into my own ears. I could grab a pillow and muffle my cries, but I don’t. Deep down I want everyone to know what we’re doing. At least then there’ll be proof beyond us. The world will know that, for a little while, we were happy together.
Stop that ... Don’t think like this is all you’ll get from him. It isn’t.
It might be.
The Bratva war isn’t over. Arsen has nearly died more than once. I know there’s tension between us. His need to achieve revenge and my pitiful hope that we can have a future without more bloodshed are in conflict.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, shutting me off from my internal demons. I can’t ignore his eyes darkened by lust. He holds me close, bending me to him until our ribs are interlocked. A tornado couldn’t rip us apart.
Little ripples vibrate through my insides. My climax has left me dazed, but it hasn’t sated me. “Get on the bed,” I tell him.
His eyes twinkle with curiosity. Wiping his sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, he shifts until his knee is on the mattress. Without pulling out, he hefts me upward, then flips over, so that in the end I’m straddling him. I gasp as my own weight sinks me deeper onto his cock. “Like that?” he chuckles.
“Yeah, just like that.” Spreading my hands on his chest, I explore his solid shelf of muscle. I vaguely remember how shy this position once made me. Now, gazing down over my swollen nipples past my rounded belly into Arsen’s transfixed eyes … I’m flush with pride.
I can tell he adores me. He’s said it many times, but it’s how he looks at me that tells me the truth of it.
Lifting myself upward on my knees exposes half of his shaft to the air. He groans deep in his throat, then gasps when I drive myself back down. Colors flash in my vision. I repeat the motion, loving the colors. It’s like chasing fireflies.
Arsen takes hold of my hips, controlling my speed. I move like a piston, each impact harder, faster, until our breathing melts into one shared rasp. “I’m coming!” he roars, pushing himself off the bed with such force the springs creak. The headboard bangs the wall like someone is trying to break in.
His cock flexes wildly. I sit my ass down hard, wanting him to be as rooted as possible when he comes. Grinding my clit helplessly on his pelvis, I resist the urge to shut my eyes or stare at the ceiling as another of my own orgasms surges forth. I want to watch him when he comes. Seeing his face wrapped in the rapture of our moment is better than a glorious dream.
His lips peel back over his perfect teeth. He grunts, voice husky and thick. Burying his fingers into the plump skin of my thighs, he flexes his ass. Spurt after spurt of hot cum fills me up. I bite my bottom lip, then switch out my knuckle, digging in. I need a small burst of pain to help me focus or else I risk falling away into nothing. I’m carving his expression into my mind like a sculptor’s knife cutting into marble.
Arsen reaches for me, pulling me until I flatten on top of him. He strokes his hand over my sweat-soaked spine, feeling the long groove until it ends above the dimples of my rear. We hold each other until our breathing returns to normal. And when that happens, we hesitate, clinging on an extra minute or five.
Finally, he eases me off him with a low hiss. His cock pops free, wet from what we’ve done. I’m slick as well. We’re both a mess and could use a shower, but instead, we curl up together on top of his blanket. Washing up would erase what we’ve done here. Neither of us wants that, though we don’t say it out loud.
A warm weight settles on my stomach. Arsen has put his hand there. He traces back and forth over my skin, his head on the pillows, his eyes shut. He looks like he’s concentrating. He’s feeling for our baby. Putting my hand over his, I sigh softly. Arsen opens his eyes to watch me, his lips in neither a frown nor a smile. Every time I think I understand him, I’m reminded that he’s an enigma.
“What is it?” I whisper.
His hand flattens slightly. “Can I sleep like this? Will it bother you?”
The way my heart trembles verges on agony. “Please stay like that.” There—he finally smiles. That’s how he remains for the next hour. I know because I’m awake the moment he drifts into sleep. My mind is too restless to allow me any relief.
When the baby kicks again, he’s snoring. It should be funny. Why isn’t it?
