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7

GRACE

I’ve never been kissed like this in my life.

Dimitri Petrov kisses like a man who loves testing his partner’s control. Deepening the kiss for long enough to make me melt, then pulling back, only to dive in again. Over and over, teasing and patient. It makes me whimper with need.

When his lips brush mine again in one of those maddening light passes, I lose it. My hands slide up from his shoulders and into his hair, gripping tight at the back of his head.

I kiss him with all the frustration and lust he’s built in me.

He growls against my lips in response, one hand trailing from my face down the side of my throat, setting fire everywhere it touches.

“Delicious,” he rumbles, his palm cupping my breast. He squeezes and a broken moan spills out, my head digging into the glass behind me.

He breaks the kiss, but only to drag his mouth down my throat, his lips hot and relentless against my skin. His hand follows, gliding from my breast to my belly… then lower, to the slit in my dress.

When his fingers slip inside and wrap around my thigh, it feels like gasoline hitting an open flame. My thighs close on instinct, but it’s useless. I’m already soaked, my core aching, clenching with my need. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of my thigh, pulling it higher, forcing my legs apart so he can press his body flush against mine.

The cool glass bites into my back, but I don’t let it ground me. I chase the heat radiating off him, arching into it, desperate for more.

He latches his mouth to the curve of my neck, sucking hard enough to mark me, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that sends sharp jolts straight to my pussy.

A gasp tears free, my fingers tightening in his hair, holding him there as my body trembles under his touch.

“So responsive,” he whispers. “But can you handle more?”

Before I can respond, both his hands move to my hips, gathering the fabric of my dress and slowly bunching it up, inch by agonizing inch. The full skirt slides over my thighs and keeps going, the cool air of the lounge meeting my skin as the fabric climbs higher. His hands are scorching by contrast, leaving a searing trail in their wake. My breath hitches when the hem reaches my waist and stops. He pulls back enough to look down, his dark eyes locking onto the wet spot soaking through my panties, and a deep, hungry sound rumbles from his chest.

“Hold this,” he commands, voice rough as gravel, nodding at the gathered skirt.

I obey quickly, clutching the fabric against my stomach with white-knuckled fingers as I stand completely exposed to him. Satisfaction flickers over his expression.

“Do. Not. Let. It. Drop.”

Then he moves, sinking slowly to his knees before me. The descent is deliberate, predatory, and I watch it happen with my pulse going wild. He lifts one of my legs with a firm, sure grip above my knee and hooks it over his broad shoulder. The position pulls me open, my heel digging into his back as my inner thighs stretch, the vulnerability of it sending a sharp rush through me. His other hand presses flat against my lower back, fingers splaying wide, holding me steady as he maneuvers my second leg up and over his opposite shoulder.

Now I’m suspended, my upper back pinned to the unyielding glass, the chill seeping through my dress and raising goosebumps on my skin. But his palm at my lower back is like an anchor, strong and unshakeable, the only thing keeping me from sliding down. My ass hovers just off the surface, thighs spread wide around his head, my clenching core inches from his mouth.

The yacht rocks gently beneath us, but in this moment, the world narrows to the heat of his breath ghosting over my folds, the way his fingers knead into my thigh as he pulls me closer. Need coils tight in my belly, my clit throbbing with it, and I can’t help the whimper that escapes as he leans in, his lips brushing the edge of my soaked panties. He blows out a slow, warm breath through the lace, and my eyes flutter shut as a deep moan rips from my throat. The sensation is electric, teasing my swollen folds without mercy, making my hips buck involuntarily toward his face. But he doesn’t give me more—he leaves me there, burning, every nerve ending begging for him to stop holding back.

Then his hand is on my pussy, his fingers tapping lightly over my clit through the fabric. The pressure is enough to send sparks shooting up my spine, and I gasp, my grip on the skirt tightening until my knuckles ache.

“Fuck, Plamyashka,” he groans, his voice thick with hunger, vibrating against my inner thighs. “You’re drenched for me.”

His words hit me like a slap of heat. Shame and desire twist together as I feel the wetness soaking through, coating his fingertips.

He drags his nose over my wet panties, inhaling like he’s savoring the scent of me. The intimate act makes my thighs clamp over his head, muscles tensing as embarrassment floods through me, but he hums softly, soothing and reassuring. “Shh… I know, baby.” His breath fans my skin, calming the tremor in my legs even as it stokes the ache between them. “I’ll take care of you.”

A shift in his hold follows, his palm pressing more firmly into my lower back to keep me steady against the glass. Then with a deft flick, he pulls my panties to the side, exposing my slick pussy to the cool air.

The sudden exposure sends a shiver through me, but the sensation barely registers before his tongue sweeps over me—flat and hot, lapping at my entrance in one slow, deliberate stroke. I cry out, the wet heat of his mouth sending a jolt straight to my core, my walls clenching helplessly around nothing.

“Scream as loud as you want,” he offers briefly, staring up at me from below. “No one will hear.” Then he goes back to work.

Dimitri doesn’t rush. His tongue circles my folds, licking and sucking the arousal dripping from me, the sounds obscene—wet smacks and low hums of approval filling the lounge.

My legs tremble on his shoulders as the pleasure builds, and when I think I can’t take any more of it, he thrusts a finger into me, slow and deep, stretching me gradually. “So fucking tight,” he groans against my skin, the vibration of his voice making me whimper. His finger curls inside, hooking against that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids, and my core seizes, fluttering around him, desperate to pull him deeper.