“Maxim…” she breathes, her voice trembling.
I do it again, slower this time, savoring her like she’s my favorite meal. Because she is. I could eat her out for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and never get tired. She’s my five-course feast, my midnight snack, my everything.
I wrap my lips around her clit and suck gently, then harder, flicking my tongue over the sensitive bud while sliding two thick fingers inside her tight heat. She cries out my name again, her hips bucking against my face.
“That’s it, baby,” I growl against her pussy, the vibrations making her tremble. “Say my name louder. Let the whole fucking house know what I’m doing to you. Let them hear how good I eat this sweet cunt.”
I devour her like a starving man, licking, sucking, fucking her with my fingers and tongue in a relentless rhythm. Her juices coat my chin, my tongue, and I groan into her, addicted to the taste. She’s whimpering, crying, her thighs shaking around my head as she gets closer.
“Maxim… please,” she begs, voice breaking. “I need you inside me. Please fuck me.”
One of my favorite things about my wife is how she's grown bolder over time. She's no longer shy about telling me what she wants during sex, and I can't get enough of it.
I give her one last long, slow lick before crawling up her body. I flip her onto her side, spooning behind her, and slide into her in one deep thrust. She moans loudly, pushing back against me. I fuck her like this, slow, deep strokes, one hand gripping her breast, the other rubbing her clit.
Then just before she comes, I pull out, turn her onto her back, and push her legs wide open. I slam back inside her, watchingher face as I fill her completely. Her eyes roll back, lips parted in pleasure. I fuck her harder, the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the room.
“Ride me,” I rasp, flipping us so she’s on top.
She sinks down on my cock with a gasp, taking every inch. I grip her hips, guiding her as she rides me, her breasts bouncing with every movement. I sit up, sucking one nipple into my mouth while she grinds on me, her moans turning into desperate cries.
We move together, frantic, hungry, completely lost in each other, until I feel her start to tighten around me.
“Come for me,malyshka,” I growl, thrusting up into her. “Come on my cock like the perfect wife you are.”
She shatters with a scream of my name, her walls pulsing around me so tightly it drags me over the edge with her. I bury myself deep and come hard, filling her with pulse after pulse of my release, groaning her name against her neck.
We collapse together, breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat. I pull her into my arms, holding her close as we come down.
I’m so fucking glad I married her. Not her sister. Not anyone else.
Just her. Calina Orlova. My wife.
I can’t even imagine a life without her anymore. She’s become my everything, my peace, my fire, my reason.
And I’ll burn the world down before I let anyone take her from me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Calina
The restaurant is bustling with the afternoon rush by the time I arrive. Waiters weave between tables, the clink of cutlery and low hum of conversations filling the air. Milana is already seated at our usual corner table, and the moment she sees me, she stands up.
I wrap my arms around her tightly, hugging her like I haven’t seen her in months instead of just a few days. These past weeks have been pure chaos, and I’ve missed my sister more than I realized.
We sit down, and for a moment we just look at each other, both of us searching the other’s face for any sign of strain.
“How are you?” I ask first.
“I’m okay. How are you? I was really worried when Arytom and Mikhail told me what happened,” Milana says, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “The attack at the party… and then everything with Dmitri. Are you okay? Is Maxim okay?”
I nod, giving her a small smile. “We’re fine. Thanks to our brothers. Everyone made it out. Dmitri… he’s gone now. Maxim handled it. He’s rebuilding, making sure nothing like that can happen again.”
Milana’s expression softens with a touch of sadness. “That’s unfortunate. I actually liked Dmitri.”
I quirk a brow, and she quickly adds, “Not like that, but… he was always so flirtatious and charming. He made people feel at ease.”
I let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Yeah, that was probably his whole strategy. Make everyone lower their guard so no one would suspect him. If someone had asked me who I thought might betray Maxim, I would have said Viktor.”
