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Mouth, lips, fingers, tongue…he uses them all to explore my tingling flesh as if he’s committing every inch of me to memory. The sensations continue to build until I’m a panting puddle of mush beneath him and he kisses down my stomach, moving lower still until his lips reach the place between my legs.
“Fuck…yes!” My breathing turns ragged as his tongue begins to work its magic, each lick and stroke sending waves of pleasure shooting through my body until I’m trembling and shaking out of control.
“You taste like heaven,Zayka,” he murmurs against me, the words rumbling through my heated flesh. I buck my hips, desperate for more. If he slides his fingers into me now, I’m going to go off like a rocket.
“Please! Oh, God…” I babble, not quite sure what I’m asking for, but needing more of this. So much more. My hands dig into the sheets as I writhe beneath him, never wanting this feeling to end. His expert tongue flicks at my clit until I’m only a step away from exploding. When he stops, I mewl, but then he’s sliding up my aching body, lips retracing their path up my flaming flesh until he’s staring into my eyes.
I groan low in my throat as he stops moving, settling between my thighs, the head of his cock nudging against the slick lips of my pussy. I spread my thighs wider, opening up to him, eager…desperate even.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” he exhales as he slides into me and I’m arching my back at the sensation of being filled so suddenly, entirely. I want to respond, but my breath is caught in my throat by the sheer size of him.
He pauses there to capture the perfection of the moment of the two of us merging into one. When he moves, my eyes fly wide and I finally let out a guttural moan that barely sounds human. The sound deepens as he sets up a smooth rhythm that has my hips pumping in time with him. The walls deep within me clasp at the length of him and for a moment, it feels like the world dissolves around me.
“Ya tebya lyublu,” he says again, his voice sounding choked this time as he grits his teeth, a light sheen of sweat on his brow. I know he’s drawing these moments out, and I feel the exertion of it too. I want it to last forever.
“What does it mean?” I whimper through a haze of pleasure.
“It means I love you,” he growls, resting his forehead against mine, and gazing into my eyes.
“I love you too,” I whisper. The tingling deep in me is starting to build even further as he starts to move more quickly.
“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu…” He’s still looking into my eyes. “Say it.”
“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.” I stumble over the strange words. It’s not easy, because I’m panting, my breath rushing out with each deepening thrust. It feels like he’s touching the very heart of me. I slide my hands down the roping muscles of his back, nails leaving a trail until I reach the heavy muscles of his pumping ass. When I sink my nails into his firm flesh, he groans out a string of Russian; rich and beautiful, it touches something primal within me. But he’s picking up the tempo and it’s growing harder to focus on the words he’s saying. All I know is that he’s pushing me ever closer to heights of pleasure I never thought I’m capable of experiencing.
When I finally come undone in a wild explosion, he’s right there with me. The smooth baritone of his voice mixes with my own frantic cries, our sounds melding together. I can feel every inch of him pressed against me, inside me, his warm breath on my face, the salt of his skin tangy on my lips. I could devour him right now, absorb him into me and make him mine completely.
“God! Oh, my God!” I hear the words being torn from me. It’s almost too much…and yet still not enough. It will never be enough. Not with this man.
Anton moves above me, his strong arms holding me. The depth of his emotions overwhelms me, making my own heart swell with love.
“Scarlett,” he breathes, his voice raw with passion as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. His lips find my skin, nipping and kissing gently, making me shiver yet again.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” I whisper again, smiling, my fingers digging into his shoulders as our bodies finally come down. A sense of peace washes over me. This is where I belong – with Anton, in his arms. Safe.
We lay entwined, the comforting sound of our breathing filling the quiet room. He strokes my hair, his touch feather-light and soothing.
“Promise me something,” I say, looking up into his eyes.
“What,Zayka?” he replies, the love in his voice unmistakable.
“Promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”
Anton’s gaze is unwavering as he answers, “I promise.” His face suddenly turns serious. “But I need a promise from you too.”
“Name it,” I say, feeling the warmth of my afterglow turning my limbs to jelly as a languor filters in.
“Promise you’ll be my wife.”
I shoot bolt upright. “What?” My mouth is hanging open.
“Marry me, Scarlett Jones.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Is that a no? You would want me to go on my knees?” A dark brow rises. I’m shaking my head in astonishment.
“What? No! Yes! I mean, yes, I’ll marry you. No, don’t go on your knees.” I can’t find my breath.
