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“Legions?” he smirks, laughing lightly. “That’s a very fancy term.”
“What?” I glare. “Avoiding the question?”
“You’re right,” he growls, smoothing his hands down my body and pulling me close to him. “Women have thrown themselves at me over the years. Too many to count. Yes, it’s true. But it’s also true that I’ve turned down every woman who’s ever thrown herself at me.”
“What?” I mutter bitterly. “Are you going to tell me you’re a virgin, too?”
“I am,” he says, head held high, saying it with more pride than I could ever muster.
I stare at him for a few moments.
And then a few moments turns into about thirty seconds.
I just keep staring, right into his eyes, trying to see if he’s lying.
Before he told me that I was his, I would’ve laughed at the idea that I could read him. But now there’s this feeling inside of me, bubbling right up to the surface, telling me that I can read him if I let go of my fear and my self-doubt.
Hard things to let go of, obviously, since they’ve been my comfort blankets since I was a kid.
“Artem,” I whisper, licking my lips. “Do you realize how insanely difficult that is to believe?”
He shrugs, squeezing onto my hips.
Our bodies are smashed close now, his manhood a solid rod against my belly, begging to be touched. My sex flames at the proximity and deep inside of me my womb cries out to feel his touch, his seed, everything he has to give.
“It’s the truth,” he says. “You’re right, Anna. I won’t lie to you. I could have had any number of women. But why? I knew that when I chose a woman, it would be to put my children inside of her. I wanted a queen. I wanted a companion. I wanted what I knew you were the moment I laid my eyes on you.”
I draw in a bolstering breath, telling myself that this is the time, my moment to be brave.
Then I reach up and take his face in my hands, staring at him. No, into him, the same way his penetrating eyes gaze into me.
“Please, Artem, tell me you’re not lying.”
“Never,” he says fiercely. “I am never going to lie to you, Anna. You don’t need to be nervous. Because this is going to be the first time for me, too. So let’s just let our bodies follow their instincts. That’s what we are, you and I, we’re fucking instinct. We’re lust and desire, and I’m fucking certain, certain that you’re my on—”
“I’m your one,” I whisper, finishing his sentence. “I feel it, too. I felt it the second you jumped down from the balcony and gave me your jacket. And you’re right, Artem. It does make me feel less nervous. We can … explore together?”
Suddenly, nerves jab at me.
I bite my lip.
Artem smirks and reaches over, smoothing his thumb along my lower lip.
“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look when you get all shy like that? Now, walk upstairs to your bedroom. I’ll follow behind. I want to watch that ass shifting for me as you walk. That big round perfect fucking ass.”
“You don’t think I’m f—”
“Shut your mouth.”
“Woah,” I say, giggling. “Rude, much?”
He smirks and slides his hands down to my ass cheeks, squeezing hard, pushing them together so the sensation spreads under my body to my sex. I feel my hole quivering and fluttering. I feel my clit getting hot and tight and tingly. I feel everything beginning to collapse in near-orgiastic celebration.
For a moment, I think my pleasure is going to puncture right here, come flowing out of me like bubbling lava.
“Yeah, it’s rude,” he says. “But I don’t give a damn. If you’re going to stand there and pretend your body is anything other than a curvy fucking treat sent straight from heaven, then I’ll be much more than rude, Anna. Your body, it’s … Fucking hell, it’s maternal and sexy at the same time, breasts made for sucking and for giving milk, hips made for grabbing while I ram you hard from behind, and for parting to make way for our children. You’re sex and motherhood combined. You’re mine. Now walk in front of me and shake that fucking ass. Now.”
A tremor travels through me as I turn around and head for the door, moving my hips from side to side.
That voice tries to tell me I’m being ridiculous again.
I’m embarrassing myself.
But then I look over my shoulder and see my giant Russian bear stalking behind me, his eyes fixated on my ass, one hand grinding up and down his concealed manhood, a solid outline in his pants.
“You can’t wait?” I whisper.
“Not much longer,” he says, voice tight, like he could erupt any moment.
He follows me all the way to the bedroom.
I walk toward the bed and hear the door close quietly behind me, not sure what to do next, not sure if I should lie on the bed or turn around or …
