"Then why the window? Why the black clothes? Why the secrets?" I shake her, my frustration boiling over into a raw, jagged rage. "I defended you. I threatened my own father for you. And you repay me by sneaking out the moment my back is turned? Who is he? Give me a fucking name!"
"There is no name!" she screams, her face turning a deep, angry red. She’s shaking, her eyes filling with tears of pure, unadulterated frustration. "You think I’m out there looking for a lover? You think I have room in my head for anyone else?"
"Then tell me the truth!"
"The truth is that there is no man in my head but you!" she blurts out, the words hitting the air like a physical blow.
The room goes silent. The only sound is our ragged breathing and the ticking of a clock on the mantel. I freeze, my grip on her hoodie loosening just a fraction.
Irina swallows hard, her gaze fixed on mine. "There is no man in my head but you, Mikhail. You’re everywhere. You’re in my sleep, you’re in my head when I’m awake, you’re the one that makes me feel like I’m suffocating and alive at the same time. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Something inside me snaps. I grab the back of her head and pull her into a kiss that tastes like salt and everything I’ve wanted and more.
She fights me for a second, her hands hitting my chest, but then she melts. She lets out a soft, broken moan and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer until there isn't a single millimeter of air between us.
"I’m going to fuck any man out of you," I rasp against her lips, my hands roaming over her body, tracing the curves I’ve been dreaming about for months. "Every thought of any other man, every memory of your father... I’m going to burn it all out of your system until there’s nothing left but me."
"Mikhail," she gasps, her fingers digging into my hair.
Fuck! She’s so sexy, I want to ruin her.
I stand up, lifting her with me as if she weighs nothing. I carry her through the hall to our suite, my pace fast and aggressive. I kick the door shut and lock it. I don't even make it to the bed.
I can’t wait one more second.
I press her against the door, my mouth finding hers again. I’m a madman. I’m a beast. I’m everything they said I was, and right now, she’s the only thing keeping me from spinning off the axis of the earth.
I yank the hoodie over her head, discarding it on the floor. I rip her leggings down her legs.
She’s shivering, but she isn't pulling away. She’s looking at me with an intensity that matches my own.
I pause, my hands hovering over soft skin. “Tell me when you want me to stop. Use your words. Green, Yellow and Red. Is that understood?”
She nods frantically, biting her plump bottom lips. “Green.”
"Green," I repeat, my voice a rough growl.
I strip off my shirt, the tattoos on my chest pulsing with the rhythm of my heart. I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist, and I carry her to the bed.
Her body is a fucking masterpiece. Pale skin, like moonlit alabaster, stretched over a frame of delicate bones and soft, generous curves. Her breasts are full, the nipples already hard and dark pink against the smooth, creamy skin. My mouth waters. I want to taste every inch of her.
I lay her down on the mattress, her hair fanning out around her like a halo. I stand over her, looking down at the feast laid out for me. Her belly dips softly, leading to the swell of her hips. And between them…
I kneel on the bed, my hands sliding up her thighs. They’re soft, warm. I push them apart, spreading her legs wide. The sight of her pussy makes my cock throb against my pants. It’s clean-shaven, a smooth, plump mound of pale skin. Her lips are parted, glistening with a wetness that isn’t just arousal—it’s a fucking river.
The inner lips are a darker pink, swollen and slick, peeking out from the outer folds. The scent hits me, musky, sweet, ugh, I can feel my cock even more, painfully. This… this is the smell of a woman who is ready, who is fucking ready for me.
"Irina," I say, my voice thick. "Look at you. You’re dripping for me."
She shifts her hips, a slow, provocative roll that opens her up even more. The inner lips seem to bloom, revealing the tight, dark pink entrance of her cunt. A shimmer of wetness coats everything, catching the low light from the bedside lamp.Fuck.
I lean down, my face inches from her heat. "You love this," I murmur. "You love showing me how fucking wet you are. You love knowing I’m going to lose my mind over it."
She doesn’t answer with words. She answers with her body. She arches her back, pushing her hips up towards my face. Herhands come to her own breasts, her fingers squeezing the soft flesh, pulling at her nipples. She moans, a loud, wanton sound that fills the room.
She’s a fucking exhibitionist. Just for me.
I can’t wait anymore.
