Page 57 of His Stolen Bride

I look up at him. “You don’t promise lightly.”

“No,” he agrees. “That’s why I only say it when I mean it.”

The balcony feels smaller. Warmer. He reaches out, slow this time, giving me every chance to step back. I don’t. His hand settles at my waist, firm and familiar, and he pulls me in like he’s done waiting.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs.

I don’t.

He kisses me then, decisively and deeply, and the world narrows to that single moment, the city glowing outside, my son safe inside, and the undeniable truth settling between us. This time, there’s no running.

18

ALINA

Mikhail’s hot, heavy breath grazes my ear, and my legs turn into jelly. I feel his body pressed to mine, hard and unyielding. With my pulse hammering, I meet his eyes, seeing pure hunger in them. My chest clenches as he leans in, lips brushing mine slowly. His hand slides up my side, thumb digging into my skin. I tilt my head, lips parting for him. His taste hits sharp, dark, and I lean in, craving more.

“You’re shaking, Alina,” he growls into my mouth. I can’t answer, not when his lips move to my jaw. His stubble scrapes, and I gasp as he kisses my throat. His teeth nip lightly, sending sparks through me. His hand tugs my hair, tilting me back, and the heat rushes south.

“Tell me you want me,” he says, eyes locked on mine, burning with desire. His thigh pushes between mine in a slow grind. My breath catches, hips moving without thought. “Say it, baby, fuckin’ say it,” he urges, voice dripping with need, but soft too, slicing through me.

“I want you,” I breathe, voice unsteady. My hands clutch his shoulders, nails pressing in. I drag him closer, desperate for more, and he kisses me deeper this time. His tongue takes over, hungry and bold. One hand slips under my shirt, rough on bare skin. The other spins us, pinning me to the glass wall.

The cold shocks my back, and I arch into him. His mouth leaves mine, trailing to my neck. He sucks hard at my collarbone, and I bite my lip to stay quiet. My hands grip his jacket, pulling as desire builds. “You’re so damn perfect,” he murmurs, breath warm on my skin.

His words fuel the fire, and I writhe against him. His hand moves up, brushing my bra. Fingers tease the edge, maddeningly slow, until I gasp. “Look at you, so needy for me,” he says, a dark grin in his tone. His other hand finds my dress zipper, yanking it down.

The fabric falls loose, slipping off my shoulder. His gaze drops, heavy with want. He tugs the dress lower, exposing my chest. His thumbs stroke over lace, making me shudder. Then he’s on me, hands cupping my breasts, squeezing with a hungry tenderness.

“God, I’ve ached for this,” he growls, mouth crashing into mine. He catches my moan, fingers teasing my sensitive skin just right. I push into his touch, needing more of him. “You feel so damn good, Alina,” he says, voice rough with lust. His grip is firm, reverent, and it drives me wild.

His mouth leaves mine, trailing down my neck again. With one hand, he unclasps my bra and tosses it aside and groans as he stares at my breasts. His mouth closes in on one, sucking hard before his tongue flicks over the nipple, hot and wet, and I whimper, hands tightening in his hair. “Fuck, you taste sweet,” he mutters, sucking gently, then harder, sending jolts through my core.

“Mikhail,” I gasp, barely audible, as he switches to the other side. His teeth graze lightly, tongue swirling, and I’m losing it. “Don’t stop,” I plead, voice raw. He groans against me, the vibration hitting deep. “I won’t, baby, not till you’re begging,” he promises, mouth working me relentlessly.

My hands slide down his chest, tracing solid lines. I reach his waistband, fingers trembling with want. “Go on, touch me,” he urges, voice dark, eyes lifting to mine, full of heat. I drop to my knees, the floor hard beneath me. My hands work his belt, pulling it free.

He watches, breath ragged, as I undo the buckle. “That’s it, just like that,” he says, tone thick with need. I pop the button open, quick and eager. My fingers grip the zipper, sliding it down slow, and

His pants loosen, and I push them just enough to free him, my breath catching at the sight. He’s thick, long, and so damn hard, the veins prominent under the light, and a rush of memory hits me—I’ve missed this, missed him, the way he fills every sense. My hands wrap around the base, feeling the heat of him, and I glance up, meeting his gaze, dark and heavy with want.

“Fuck, Alina, don’t tease me,” he growls. His hand slides into my hair, fingers tangling, not pulling yet, just holding as I lean forward. My lips brush the tip, tasting the salt of him, and he hisses, grip tightening. I take him in slow, mouth stretching around his girth, tongue pressing against the underside as I sink deeper, feeling that familiar ache in my jaw.

“Goddamn, that’s it,” he mutters, hips shifting slightly. His cock slides further, heavy on my tongue, and I hollow my cheeks, sucking hard, taking as much of his length as I can. He’s so thick, it’s a struggle, but I want it, want to feel every inch.

I hum around him, the vibration making him groan, and my hands grip his thighs, nails digging in as I bob my head, working him steady. His fingers tighten in my hair, guiding now, not rough but firm, and he moves his hips, sliding in and out, setting a slow rhythm. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he rasps, watching me, eyes burning. “Taking me so deep.”

His length hits the back of my throat, and I relax, letting him push a little more, spit slicking him as I swallow around him. He’s so hard, throbbing against my tongue, and I can feel how close he’s getting, the tension in his thighs, the way his breath goes ragged. “Shit, Alina, you’re gonna make me lose it,” he warns, voice tight, but I don’t stop, sucking harder, wanting to push him there.

But he pulls back suddenly, slipping out of my mouth with a wet pop, and I gasp for air, lips swollen, looking up at him. “Not yet,” he says, chest heaving, hand still in my hair. “Get up, baby.” His voice is a command, but there’s a tremor of need in it, and I stand on shaky legs, his grip steadying me as he pulls me to my feet.

He doesn’t hesitate, spinning me around to face the glass wall, my hands bracing against the cool surface. My dress is still half-down, bunched at my waist, and he tugs it further, exposing more of me as his hands slide down my hips, rough and urgent. “Spread for me,” he orders, voice low in my ear, and I shift my legs apart, heart pounding as he drops to his knees behind me.

His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider, and then his face is there, buried in me, hot breath against my core through the thin fabric of my underwear. He doesn’t bother pulling them down yet, just presses his mouth against me, tongue dragging over the lace, wet and insistent. I moan, low and broken, pressing back into him as the sensation hits hard. “Fuck, you’re soaked already,” he growls, muffled against me, and I feel his teeth graze the edge of the fabric before he tugs it aside with his fingers.

Then his tongue is on me, licking a slow, deliberate line through my folds, tasting me deep, and my knees nearly buckle. “Mikhail,” I gasp, hands slipping on the glass, and he groans into me, the sound vibrating through my core. “So fucking sweet,” he mutters, tongue circling my clit, then dipping lower, pushing into me as his hands hold my hips still, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

His tongue drives into me, relentless and hot, pushing deep into my slick heat as his hands clamp down on my hips, pinning me against the glass wall. My fingers scrabble for grip, nails scraping the smooth surface, and I can’t hold back the desperate whimper that spills from my lips. Mikhail growls against me, the vibration shooting straight through my core, and I feel my thighs tremble, barely able to keep me upright as he devours me like a man starved.