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The closer I got, the faster my heart thumped. The quicker the warmth spread between my thighs. The more needy I grew.
I saw the doors and black drapes and almost ran to it. But someone grabbed me, forced me behind a curtain, and shut my mouth with his smooth lips.
Expensive cologne, cigars and musk, and rain on an open field.
I relaxed and allowed his calloused palms to tug on the hem of my dress and slide under.
His lips harassed my neck and grazed my skin, and I melted in his arms.
“It’s not even thirty minutes yet,” I chuckled.
“I couldn’t wait another second.” His lips found mine. His kiss was rough, just like his hands on my skin, pulling at the band of my thong. The other hand worked on the side zipper of the dress, but it refused to budge, so he bunched the fabric around my waist.
Through his pants, his erection pressed against my stomach, and the pool between my legs grew thicker.
“I’m going to rip this fucking dress off.”
“It’s Versace.” I laughed and he slammed his hand over my mouth to muffle the echo.
“Fuck Versace.”
I laughed in his hand and choked on a moan when his hands spread my legs and fingers thrust into me without warning. “I can afford a thousand of these dresses, krasotka. But you are priceless.”
The buckle of his belt clanked, and the sound of his zipper floated through the silence with our heavy breaths. I cupped his cheeks and kissed his jaw. He growled, fighting to regain his dominance with the lap of his tongue and a harsh bite on my lips.
I whimpered. I wanted more.
His cock, hard and thick, sprung out, and his hands on my hips hoisted me from the floor. He kissed me, slowly and tenderly. “I can’t promise a long ride, my pretty one.”
“As long as it’s a ride with you, I’m good.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he drove into me. I held his tie and pulled him closer, as we rode together in pure ecstasy. We breathed into our mouths. He rocked me against the wall, thrust faster, and stole my breath with his lips.
I reached for his arm. My nails dug into the thick jacket, and I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. I remembered our first time. His touch still set my skin on fire; his kisses made me melt like a candle.
His grunts filled my ears and my head fell against the wall. My stomach tightened and his legs stiffened. He fucked harder, thrust faster. I saw mountains. I saw blue. I saw ... him.
His roughness, imperfections, and hidden tenderness. Blue and amber. All of him and all of me. We were made for each other.
He held me with one hand and gripped the wall behind me with the other. Staring at me with a tightened jaw and tortured look, he groaned. “I’m coming, krasotka.”
“I’m coming too ...”
He was so beautiful, so real, it made me hit a knee-buckling orgasm. I moaned in his mouth and his hot seeds shot in rapid spurts, spilling down my legs.
With a final kiss, we detangled, and he helped me clean up with some tissues he pocketed. I looked up at him, beaming.
“What?” A sliver of amusement passed his eyes.
I shrugged. “I just can’t believe you are mine.”
I straightened my dress, and he stretched out his hand. “Better believe it. This is all real.”
“Oh, I know,” I said, taking his hand. Unable to resist, I stood on my tiptoe and kissed his neck. We had stolen a moment away from the bustling crowd, I studied Rafail’s eyes, my heart skipping a beat as I took in the depth of his gaze.
At that moment, time seemed to stand still, and it was as if we were the only two people in the world.
If I believed in fates and soulmates, I’d say our meeting was orchestrated, despite how twisted it was. Six months ago, I thought I had my simple life planned out. But life had better surprises for me, and he was one of them.
Now, as we walked back to mingle with the rest of the crowd—like we didn’t just have a mind-blowing three-minute fuck—I was sure of one thing.
If it wasn’t Rafail Varkov, then there was no other man for me.
*****
THE END
