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I feel his warm, minty breath.
Mikhail’s fingers dig into my hips, forcing me to ride on his. I feel every inch of him against me, and I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I’m welcoming a toxic lust into my life, and I don’t see a problem with it right now.
I move away from him only slightly, and he takes the opportunity to grab onto my shirt and tug it off me. His lips land on my neck, then on my nipples. I want to collapse at the feeling of his lips wrapping around the center of my breast.
His hand cups the other aggressively as I lean into his body. Everything around me becomes nonexistent the moment he throws me off him. He pulls me toward him by my legs, then he pushes them aside and climbs between them. His fingers reach for my face, brushing my messy hair out of my eyes.
“Ya lublu tvoyi volosi,” he murmurs.“Tvoyu kozhu, tvoi glaza, tvoi gubi, tvoi vesnushki.”I love your hair. Your skin, your eyes, your lips, your freckles.
Mikhail lowers himself onto me and leaves a trail of kisses all over my body. He kisses every inch of my skin, but not my lips.
I can hardly see anything besides the shadow of him. I focus on where his hands touch my body instead.
He pulls on the waistband of my shorts, tugging them off my hips slowly. His arms land either side of my head while he hovers his lips over mine. I brush my fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands as an outlet. It feels as if my heart is racing to finish a marathon when he rubs my clit in gentle circular motions. I try to shove the sounds he’s forcing out of me back down, but it’s impossible. I want to scream with pleasure.
“You only get to make those sounds for me. Do you understand?” he asks firmly.
“Yes,” I say.
“Ti bistro uchishsa, Koldunya.” You learn fast, witch.
My eyes roll when he pushes a finger inside me. It hasn’t even been a day since the last time he touched me, but this all still feels brand-new, as if his hands were made for my body. He lowers himself down onto me and parts my legs.
Chills take over my skin when he licks me. He never demands anything of me when we share a moment like this. He never makes me do anything to him or even gives me the opportunity. He gets off by touchingme.
His tongue moves over every sensitive part of my body, and when I grab onto the sheets beside my hips his fingers intertwine with mine.
“Oh, Mikhail,” I moan.
He groans with the taste of me on his lips.
I never thought I’d be so easy to please. He’s either done this far too many times to count or he knows how to work my body perfectly.
“Ya hochu,” he growls.I want it all. “Kazhduyu posledniyu kaplu.” Every last drop.
My breaths come out unsteady as I reach my climax. My stomach falls the moment I come on his tongue. He licks, sucks, and bites my skin. It’s aggressive, and I love every second. I don’t even know my own body as well as he knows it.
Mikhail stands up from the bed and opens his dresser drawer. He puts a shirt over me and tugs on the bottom. I already know it’ll fit me like a dress. Then, walking over to my side of the bed, he fluffs a pillow for me. As if I’m incapable of moving myself, Mikhail lifts me up and places me in the center of his mattress, pulling the covers up over my body.
His shirt is baggy, beyond comfortable. I could melt in the scent of his cologne. It’s a spice, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“You should be able to sleep now,” he says, walking out and closing the door.
I don’t have the energy to run after him and apologize for taking over his room. Instead, my eyelids fall while I try to process what the hell just happened.
* * *
I’m woken up by the sound of Mikhail yelling at someone. The voices echo through the entire house.
I throw off the sheets and walk down the stairs to his office, cracking the door open just enough that I can see them. His voice is loud, so harsh I feel his anger within myself.
Why is he so pissed off?
My fingers curl around the fabric of Mikhail’s shirt. Peering my head around the corner, I see him yelling at Lev, his fists slamming down on the table. Lev looks unfazed by his words, but he doesn’t say anything back, which only fuels Mikhail’s fire.
“You fucking did this,” he says with his hands flat on the table, head falling between his shoulders.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know they’d follow me?”
