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“I want you too,” I murmur, though I don’t entirely know what I mean by that. All I know is I want more of him. My craving is so intense I could almost cry.
He keeps one arm curled beneath my hips, holding me to him as he opens my door with the other hand. And though I know it’s inappropriate, and my father would be furious if he found out, I can’t bring myself to protest when Pyotr carries me inside the room. He kicks the door closed behind him, refusing to break our kiss as he shuts out the rest of the world.
Finally, we’re entirely alone.
Tongue still tangled with mine, Pyotr finds the top of a dresser and sets me gently on it. He keeps his arm firmly locked around my hips to hold me close. His impressive erection teases the peak of my thighs, promising infinite pleasure as he grinds against me.
I groan, unable to contain the noise as I realize this is what it feels like to be turned on. And god, what I wouldn’t do to feel more of this.
“You’re so soft,” Pyotr murmurs as his rough fingers slide down my leg, feeling my freshly shaved skin. He tracks from my thigh to my knee, then my calf, and finally my feet, hooked together behind his back.
With a flick of his wrist, he removes my pumps one at a time, letting them thump to the floor. The heady relief as he releases my sore soles only intensifies my arousal.
In one swift motion, Pyotr scoops me up off the dresser and sets me on my feet before spinning me in his arms. Suddenly, I’m facing away from him, my bare back pressed to the warm fabric covering his chest.
I gasp. “What are you doing?”
“I want to make you feel good,” he breathes across the nape of my neck, raising goosebumps there.
One hand lightly closes around my chin as he tips my head and exposes my neck. His lips find the tender flesh behind my ear, and my pussy throbs from the erotic sensation.
He’s holding me in the same way he did in the school library, one hand gripping my hip, pressing my ass firmly against his cock, the other slowly tracing down my neck to my collarbone. Then lower. Only this time, rather than mortified, I’m overwhelmed with need. I want his hands all over me, bringing me to life.
His fingers slip beneath the fabric of my dress’s scooped neckline. And as he palms my breast, my nipple puckers deliciously at the foreign touch.
“You’re not wearing a fucking bra,” he groans, his cock twitching against my ass cheek.
I might have laughed at his observation. After all, the dress doesn’t have enough fabric to allow a shred of support. But I’m so intensely turned on, all I can do is nod.
“Is this okay?” he breathes against my ear before nipping the sensitive lobe.
Air hisses between my teeth as electric pleasure jolts through my body. “Yes,” I whimper, my body starting to tremble with need.
“Will you let me make you feel good?” His hand slides pointedly down to the slit in my dress, which stops at the top of my thigh.
My pulse roars in my ears as my heart hammers uncontrollably. But fuck if I’m going to say no to that generous offer. Because I want Pyotr’s strong, calloused hands all over me. I want him to explore every inch of me and show me just what it feels like to be with a man. To have someone give me pleasure.
I nod vigorously against his chest.
When his fingers find my panty line, my stomach drops–like it might as the cart of a roller coaster tips over the edge into freefall. He works his hand beneath the waist of my undies, and I stiffen as he touches me where no man has before.
The intensity of it is overwhelming. Shocking arousal makes me weak at the knees, and I have the instinctual desire to force my legs closed because it leaves me vulnerable, exposed in the most earth-shattering way.
“Easy,sokrovishche,” he purrs.
A shiver trickles down my spine. I love the sound of Russian leaving Pyotr’s lips.
And though my stomach is an iron ball of nerves, my muscles relax at his command.
“That’s my good little princess,” he praises, his breath whispering across my flesh.
And though he’s called me that mockingly in the past, right now, it feels like the singular sexiest term of endearment.
Then his fingers dip lower to stroke the length of my slit. A lascivious moan escapes my lips before I can even think to stop it.
“Holy fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, and from the aching desire in his tone, I gather that’s a good thing.
His fingers run along my slit once again, this time pressing between my folds. And when he reaches the height of it, I cry out. An electric current shoots through my body, leaving my fingers and toes numb. I desperately want him to do it again.
