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I place my lips over her clit and tease it, licking up and down while I inch a finger closer and closer to her ass. She continues moaning, and I feel like this is my opportunity to show her something different and how it can bring her pleasure. I very slowly insert my finger inside her asshole, pumping in and out of her like I’m doing with her pussy.
She’s tense at first but slowly begins to give in to me. I start pumping in and out of her faster and faster until she’s digging her nails into my shoulder. “Slow down, Ambros. I don’t want to get there yet,” she pleads, but I’m not going to stop. I don’t want to stop.
I keep fucking her with my hand while I tease her with my tongue until the walls of her pussy tighten around me. She’s so close, and I know it. I quickly thrust my fingers in and out of her until she’s practically shaking in my hands. Her orgasm takes over her, and only a few moments later, I slide my fingers out of her.
I rise, turn her around so her bare breasts are forced against the window, and whisper in her ear. “You loved that, and don’t try to deny it.”
I hike one of her legs up and line my cock at her pussy, burying myself to the hilt. I don’t want to go slow at all. I want to fuck her so she knows her body belongs to me. The more I think about it, the more I know I’ve been breaking Xava in slowly. I want her to see me. The real me. The man who will bring the most pleasure to her that she could ever imagine.
Chapter Eighteen
Xava
After a week in Italy, I’m finally back home in Grozny. I never thought I’d miss this place the way I did, but goodness, the last week has been so stressful. Well, maybe that’s a lie. Deep down, I think I’ve been a little too stressed out since that teenager tried to kill me. It showed me the lengths people are really willing to go to hurt me in some way. Then the plane incident happened, and it made every single fear I had come back in full force.
Ambros and I arrived back at my apartment a couple of hours ago. Rolando did, too, but he said he wanted to get out of the house for a bit because one of his “friends” was in town. In all the time he’s worked for me, he’s never once asked for any time off, so of course, I told him to go and enjoy himself. Plus, I have Ambros with me, and I know there isn’t anything that could happen to me with him by my side.
Ambros took a stroll around my entire apartment and said it suited me. He liked the feminine flare and all the historical components of the place but mentioned how there were a few blank walls. I told him I asked Eset to draw or paint me some pieces to hang around, and since they’re custom, they’ll take at least a few more weeks.
Yara’s also in town. She arrived a couple of days ago while I was still in Italy and ended up staying at one of the best hotels in Grozny before I returned home. I texted her an hour ago and told her to pack her bags and come stay with me. She was elated, and it was her first time seeing the apartment in the flesh. She saw it when I video-chatted with her a couple of weeks ago after I officially signed the paperwork.
It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve seen my family for dinner, so it wasn’t really a surprise when I got a text from Emily earlier saying she and Amelia were making dinner and bringing it over here to my place. It would double as dinner and a time to catch up with everyone whose life has been so crazy.
Ambros is staying in town for a couple of days, but he did let me know that he has to leave for a work commitment. I do wonder what he’s going to do. Well, I know what he’s going to do, but I do wonder why he’s going to do it. I think that’s the one thing I’m constantly curious about—why he does what he does. He doesn’t speak about his job very often, though I do understand that there isn’t much of a choice in what he does. I understand the basics: He’s given a contract, and he has to do it. I just feel a little better knowing it’s happening to horrible people.
“Did you need to make anything for dinner tonight?”
I shake my head. “No, but I did have Eset grab some cherry turnovers. It looks like she dropped them off before we got home. Want one before everyone gets here?” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully.
“Dessert before dinner? How scandalous. Of course, cough one up.” Ambros chuckles, and I take out two turnovers from the box. One for him, and one for me. He bites into his turnover and moans as the sweet yet tart taste floods his mouth.
I take a bite of my own, and it’s just as great as I thought it would be. Flaky, yet fucking amazing.
“I’ve been thinking about something,” I state between bites.
Ambros cocks a brow. “And what would that be?”
“You know how Ruslan has been pressuring me to figure out what I want to do with my life and all that?”
“I do,” Ambros mutters, taking another bite of the pastry.
“Well, I kind of love baking. I was thinking about pursuing that, maybe opening a bakery and whatnot. I need to start by going to pastry school first, though.”
Ambros sits back in his chair a bit more. “How long have you been giving this some thought?”
“When we were in Italy, Rolando would go to that bakery in town. It made me realize just how much baking is important to me. I used to do it all the time with my adoptive mother when we were back in Prague, and I miss it. I miss being able to be in the kitchen for hours on end.”
Ambros tilts his head and presses his lips together. “Do you miss being in the kitchen, or do you miss the experience with your adoptive mother?”
Ouch. I wasn’t expecting that. I lick my lips and think about what he’s asking me. “Maybe a little bit of both.”
“I see. Well, if you’re asking for my advice, you know I’m going to tell you to follow your dreams. Life is too short to live with regrets. If owning a bakery or being a pastry chef will make you happy, then you should do it and not let anyone talk you out of it either.” I don’t know who Ambros thinks is going to talk me out of this, but no one is going to be successful at it, even if they do try.
“I won’t. I really think I could be so happy doing this,” I declare with a smile. I feel like a child on their birthday, when they know they’re about to get some of the best presents in the world.
“Good. That’s the only thing that matters,” Ambros declares.
The doorbell to my apartment rings out, signaling some of my family members are here.
