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I knew I would. Especially as he reached between us to unbuckle his belt and kick his trousers and boxers down. He kissed me deeply and I inhaled, savoring the outdoors. Mikhail smelled just like the forest outside the windows.
I parted my legs and drew my knees up, rubbing them against his sides. Expecting to be filled.
But Mikhail surprised me — as he always did — by grinning wickedly and withdrawing.
“Hey!” I protested, trying to grab him and keep him where he was. I wanted — no, I needed this. “Get back here!”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised me, lying back on the carpet, hands behind his head. “I just want to watch you. This is the best view.”
“Lazy,” I teased him, clambering up and over him. This gave me so much control. I lowered myself onto his length, inch by inch, and watched him as his lips parted, eyes slitting in pleasure. His hands went up to smooth down my breasts, stopping when they got to my hips. When I was fully seated, he groaned.
“You love to torture me.”
“In only the best ways,” I said, rocking a little and nearly whiting out. This was the perfect angle, and I wasn’t going to last. I leveraged my body up with my knees and sank down again, panting as I did so. Mikhail tried to put his fingers between my legs, but I seized his hand and put it back on my hip. I didn’t need his help in that way.
I was going to get there all on my own.
All on his length.
“Fuck, Sadie,” he growled as I leaned back, splaying my hands behind me to bounce on him in a different angle. “Are you trying to kill me?”
But I couldn’t answer. I could only grin and breathe hard, nipping at his finger as he caressed my face. My climax rose in me like a tide. Before I knew what was happening, Mikhail had flipped me onto my back and was pumping in and out, extending my pleasure. I was screaming wordlessly as his hips stuttered, losing their rhythm. Each wave of ecstasy crested into something bigger and a little more terrifying until Mikhail shouted his release. It was almost a relief to slide down from that high.
He kissed me, his beard tickling my jaw and neck.
“I think we’ve still got it, Mr. Turgenev,” I said with a shaky laugh, breathing hard and still pinned beneath Mikhail’s muscular body.
“Never lost it, Ms. Ware,” he said, his voice a warm rumble that made my insides melt. “Love you, malysh.”
“Love you.” I kissed his cheek softly, reveling in the softness of his beard against my lips. “It’s good to be home.”
