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This wasn’t about quick satisfaction.
His hands fell to my thighs, squeezing the skin there so tightly that it turned red. I could feel that ache—that desire—building within me, but the veneer of control I had over him was enough to make it worth it.
“Da, you come back here, and I’ll keep you warm,” he bit out, his voice so tense and raw that it sent shivers up the back of my spine.
“Promise?”
The shake there was instantaneous, his hip pulsing up into my hand, and when I lifted him with my hand, I lowered myself in appreciation of it. He pushed against me, but he was held in place by my hand still wrapped around the base of his dick. He grunted, his half-closed eyes shooting open to stare at me in confusion.
“I lead,” I whispered, my nose pushing into the side of his. “And you never promised…”
“Chyort!” he cursed, his head flinging back into the pillow behind it. “Promise what,tigrenok? Promises . . . I promise you whatever the fuck you like, just get your ass back down here. . .”
That thrill from the yearning in his voice chased the shivers he’d given me earlier, filling me up.God, I wanted to be filled. “Oh, come on,” I teased, “It’s not my ass you want. . .”
His eyes flashed to me with a hint of desperation. “I’ll take that too. . .” It was a promise bordering on a threat, but I didn’t give him time to fulfill it.
My hand left him, and my hips sank down until I gave him just what he was asking for. My eyes rolled back into my head as I arched my back in an attempt to lower further into him. Onto him.Fuck.
“Fuck,” he repeated, his hips pushing further until I swore I could feel him throughout every inch of me.
I didn’t want to admit my fear of what we were getting into. I didn’t want to think about Russia, and I didn’t want to face all of the things that had happened over the last few weeks. But this? This I could face. Dmitry beneath me, looking at me like I was some sort of heavenly prize come to life, brought to near stuttering point just by my crouching over him like I was a…
Tigrenok, or tiger cub he called me, caressing the name like it was part curse, part invocation as I lifted back up on my knees and sank into him with more force, reveling in the noise it wrung from him and the feeling it filled me with.
I couldn’t face Russia, but I could face Dmitry. Because, somehow, inexplicably, he had become my rock over the past few weeks. And having him inside of me, holding me like he was, emboldened me. It made me feel like I could face whatever was coming, and I gave myself over to that feeling, deciding to brush the rest aside until I had to face it…
Until our plan landed in Mother Russia.
