Page 42 of Anton

My hips move on autopilot while I rub her clit between my fingers until her cries echo through the room. Not ready for this to end, I force myself to slow down, holding back my release so I can make it last. My mouth drops to her neck, kissing and sucking the skin there as I pull my hips back before slamming into her again.

“Please, please.” Her pussy clasps around me.

“If you need to come, then ask for it.”

With a frustrated sound, she reaches back and grabs my throat. “Fuck me harder and make me come.”

My God. This woman.

A growl tears from me as I push her head down and bend her over, my fist tightening in her hair. Then I let go, driving into her faster and rougher until her screams fill the room.

“That’s it. Otdaysya mne.” Give yourself to me.

I bury myself deeper inside her, and her body finally surrenders.

“Anton!” She comes apart with a strangled cry, her nails scraping helplessly against the wall as she squirts onto the floor.

One more thrust sends me over the edge. A rough grunt rips from my chest as I spill inside her, my palms locked around her hips while I give her something I’ve never given anyone else.

When the last tremor leaves me, I’m completely spent. I press slow kisses up her spine.

“That was nice.”

She laughs, still bracing herself against the wall. “Nice? Acceptable? You really know the way to a woman’s heart.”

What does she want me to say? Incredible? Life-altering? Something I never knew existed before she walked into my life?

“It was the best I’ve ever had. Are you happy now?”

“Immensely.” She glances back at me with a grin, her eyes sparkling in the cutest fucking way.

So cute it makes me want to gouge my own eyes out.

“Shit.” I grip the back of my neck. “I didn’t wear a condom.”

She shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill.”

Slava Bogu. Thank God.

No one wants me to be a father, that’s for sure.

I step away as she straightens, and the instant she reaches for her dress, I hate that I won’t get to look at her anymore. I help her pull it back into place, sliding the straps over her shoulders before fastening the zipper. Then I bend down and tug her panties up, my touch lingering far longer than necessary.

“I should probably go home now.” Her fingertips trace the edge of my jaw.

“You should.”

But I don’t move aside. I keep her pinned between me and the wall, unwilling to give up the feeling of her hands on me.

“Bye, Anton.” Her eyelids grow heavy as her palm glides over my face.

“Bye, Thora.”

I press my mouth to her cheek, and a soft groan slips from her as her hand closes around the back of my head, keeping me there.

“This could become addictive,” she breathes.

“Maybe we should stop, then.”