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My hips buck harder and faster, keeping feverish pace with his fingers. He doesn’t let up until my body is so sensitive that I can feel every single movement of his hands on my skin, every wisp of breath. His fingertips explore me, dipping and tracing circles around my most sensitive areas. I gasp, my breathing becoming shallower with each touch.
He teases me, alternating between fast and slow strokes, never letting me get too comfortable. I moan and start to quiver and tremble as I get closer to the edge.
He knows just when to increase the pressure and when to back off, pushing me to the brink of pleasure before cruelly wrenching the temptation of it away again. He nibbles on my ear and laughs and kisses and promises me he won’t ever let me go.
Finally, when he says that, I let out a long moan as I come, my body trembling as I ride out wave after wave of pleasure. He doesn't stop until every bit of energy is drained from my body. I collapse against him, my head buried in his chest.
Only then does he start to take care of himself. His gentle thrusts come faster and faster. His breath warms the back of my neck. If I wasn’t already so spent, the sound of him falling apart could make me come again.
“Fuck… Paige…” My name stays imprinted on his lips as he spills inside of me.
The orgasm wracks his body. I clutch his hands against my belly and wait until his breathing has settled. Until both of us can talk without gasping.
Then I roll onto my side so I’m facing him. “That was… different. Good different.”
He kisses my nose. “Seems appropriate.”
“Yes.” A lot of things are different now, apparently. “Can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
“Sometimes, I forget I’m pregnant.” He arches his eyebrows, and I continue. “I guess I still don’t quite believe that I’m pregnant at all. I mean, it was never supposed to happen for me.”
“Maybe it just wasn’t supposed to happen with Anthony.” His hand curls possessively around my hip. I like that, even now, he doesn’t want to let go of me.
“Did you always want kids?” I ask.
“Not at all. I never thought I’d have them,” he admits. “There wasn’t any pressure to have kids until Maksim died. Even then, we still had Ilya.”
“So it was always for the Bratva? You didn’t want them just for you?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t think I’d make a very good father.”
“Why?”
He frowns. “I don’t know. Just a feeling. The things I’m good at don’t translate to kids.”
I prop myself up on my elbow and look down at him. “Tell me five things you like about yourself.”
He arches one brow. “Excuse me?”
“I’m serious. Five things you like about yourself.”
“I’m not sure I have five to tell.”
Blind, stupid man.I could list a thousand. “Fine. Name three.”
“Is talking after sex important to you? Or can I—”
He pretends to get up, and I swat his arm. I bury my nose in the crook of his neck and breath in that heady, masculine scent of him.
“You’re wonderful, Misha Orlov. You may not be able to name five things you like about yourself. But I could keep going forever.”
He looks down at me. His eyes are bright and warm, but this conversation has entered a territory of vulnerability that he’s not quite ready for.
Finally, he wraps an arm around me and pulls me close. “You’re full of shit,kiska. Now, shut up and let me hold you.”
We burst out laughing while he does exactly that. I cling on to him and let everything else go for now.
