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Clara’s thighs snap tight around my head. I know exactly how to shove her over the edge of oblivion from here. I slip two fingers inside her and time each stroke to her panting breaths.
And then she’s flying apart.
The only thing anchoring her to this realm of existence is the way I hold her to me, giving her enough space to writhe and buckand shudder through her release, but not letting her escape my mouth’s reach.
If she’s the only wine I ever drink again, I will die a happy man.
I ease off from sucking but continue to caress her with my tongue. Long, slow, broad strokes meant to soothe and comfort while letting her know I’m nowhere near done with her.
I’llneverbe done with her.
I’m a man obsessed. There’s no denying it. No getting around it. Not that I want to. I still catch myself watching her on the security cameras just to reassure myself that she is still here, that this is real, that I’m not about to wake up and find out she’s still lost?—
No.I need to drive those dark thoughts from my mind.
Fortunately, that’s not difficult to do with the way she’s breathing my name between satisfied purrs and shivering aftershocks. I hold her to me, kissing my way back up her body. I want to cover every inch of her body with my kisses. I want to chart a map in my memory so I can know each scar and freckle blindfolded.
More than that, though—I need to be inside her.
Right goddamn now.
I capture her gasp in a deep kiss when I push myself inside her. She fits so perfectly around my shaft; this is by no means our first time together and yet somehow I’m always amazed at howexactly rightshe feels around me.
Clara’s fingers dig into my shoulder blades. I welcome the pain—I want those scars, so I can saunter into a firefight with my skincovered in proof that my woman, my beautiful, loving woman, is as fierce as I am.
“I love you,” are the only words I can find enough breath to voice. They’re the only words that really count, though, so I let them do all the talking. “I love you. I love you.”
She meets each proclamation with a kiss. I meet each kiss with a deeper thrust. If I could bury myself completely inside her, I would. Since I can’t, I do my damned hardest to bury every solid inch of my cock inside her quivering heat and work us both into a frenetic rhythm that is pushing me closer to my own release faster than I intended.
But that’s okay. I also intend on taking her a few more times before dawn.
Words pour from my heart into her ear as we move together. I’m pretty sure she’s making me whisper two different languages, and I barely speak Russian anymore. Not consciously at least, but when I’m in here, it flows from me effortlessly. It’s a fucking testament to how mindblowing she is, how?—
Clara suddenly freezes.
“What did you say?”
WhatdidI say?I slow to a stop and brush back hair from her brow while I try to remember what just flew out of my mouth.
I told her I love her.
I told her how beautiful she is to me.
How much of that was in English?
“What’s wrong?” I try to laugh it off, pressing a kiss to her furrowed brow. “What?—”
“What did you just say, Demyen?”
She’s trembling, but it’s not from pleasure. Her eyes are filled with fear.
I sit up. “I called you my good girl.Umnitsa.”
Flat palms suddenly shove against my chest and it’s a frantic scramble to pull myself from her so she can quickly roll away. Which she does, clutching a hand to her chest.
“Clara? Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t.” She bats away my attempt to rub her back. She just sits on the edge of the bed, breathing faster and faster. “Don’t say that.”
