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6
Dmitry
The bare skin of Manya’s back was warm beneath my palm as she struggled to unlock our hotel suite. I wanted to laugh at her for how she fumbled with the room key, turning it over again and again in her hand as if it were written in ancient Hebrew instead of the Russian that I knew she could read. We hadn’t discussed her sudden desire to be present in all aspects of my life again since leaving the museum, though we’d had plenty of time.
Instead, she’d opened up about her own mother, regaling me with stories of a woman who seemed larger than life as we were getting ready for dinner earlier that evening. It was the first time she’d spoken so openly about her childhood, and I’d enjoyed it. Bringing her with me to Russia had been a good idea, something that was only becoming more and more apparent the longer we stayed.
So, it stood to reason that keeping her around for everything else like she had asked would prove to be the same—if you only removed the danger and possibility of stray bullets from the equation. My chest tightened uncomfortably at the thought, only to be interrupted by Manya’s little huff of triumph as she finally pushed open the door.
“You celebrate opening a door but weren’t willing to let me buy you a diamond earlier to celebrate your hotwiring skills?” I murmured. Her shoulders straightened with the commentary, one hitching higher than the other as she sashayed her way into the suite, throwing the coat and purse she’d been carrying onto the first chair she saw. I half wanted to comment on that too, but the way she lifted her arms above her head to stretch had the words dying in my throat. I followed her into the room, shutting the door behind us.
“That’s different,” she dismissed, reaching up to take the clip that had been holding her hair from the nape of her neck. “That was a gift you were offering tongue in cheek.” Her hair fell out in waves, covering the bare skin of her back like a blanket of starlight.
“Would you rather my tongue have been somewhere else in the restaurant?” I asked, allowing my desire to creep into my words. Watching her move about the place as if she owned it, clad in the wine-colored dress from the evening, and only just beginning to slip out of those too-tall heels had my stomach tightening, my dick jumping to attention with it.
“Wha-” Her words were cut off by a choked inhale as she looked back over her shoulder to find me leaning against the wall watching her. That pretty pink suffused her cheekbones, her black eyes widening slightly. “That’s inappropriate,” she chastised, sounding not at all as if she actually wanted me to stop.
“My tongue in you is inappropriate?” I asked, eyebrows lifting sarcastically. “And here I thought we were married. . .” I undid the band of the watch on my wrist easily, not once dropping my eyes from her, or the way that she’d paused, half out of that last heel.
“You know what I meant,” she huffed, her cheeks coloring further as she finished getting out of her shoes, tossing her hair as if she were impatient. But I knew that she was just trying to cover that blush of hers. Learning the nuances of her was coming easier now than it had before.
“Ah, da, you mean in the restaurant.” I hummed my assent, loosening the tie from my neck and slowly approaching where she stood in front of the vanity—stalking her, caging her into that scant space between there and the bed on the other side. “Because dining onyouatop that table instead of our dinner would have caused a scene. . .” Her breath hitched as I neared, her eyes flashing to me almost needily, as if she wished it were my hands touching her instead of my words.
It was a need I was only too happy to fill, drawing my hand along the backs of her shoulders, gathering the waves of her silver-blond hair to reveal her back once more. I pushed the hair over her shoulder before untying the knot that held her halter behind her neck.
“Right,” she snorted, even that noise almost anticipatorily breathy. “Because you would have let the whole restaurant see me naked. You? Like a chyorti who hoards what you think belongs to you.” She lifted her chin, angling her face to look back at me challengingly.
The silk fell from around her neck with a whisper, her hurried grabbing of the fabric about her chest all that kept the dress from falling from her frame entirely. I didn’t say anything, meeting her gaze and allowing my palm to flatten against the back of her neck, trailing down her spine slowly as I felt my lips quirk. “Da . . . I would have let them look. I would have let them watch you in all your glory on top of that table, with your thighs around my face and your calves over my shoulders, because every man and woman in there would have known you belonged to me.”
There it was again.Her sharp indrawn breath, her heartbeat jumping visibly in her neck as her lids lowered, that flush in her cheeks taking on a different shade. Her arms moved as if the dress she held up had suddenly become heavy; she was hesitating between that line of proper and hedonistic.
I wanted the latter. I wanted her debased before me, her skin stretched out like a map that only my fingers could read.
My hands traced down the outer curve of her arms as I aligned my body with the back of hers. I could feel every curve, every jump of muscle beneath her flesh as she sank back into me, a gasp leaving her as I spun the both of us to face the still open wall of windows.
The city was spread below us, a mirage of twinkling lights and skyscrapers as far as the eye could see, but so small in comparison to where we stood. Our reflection stood out against all of that, her wide eyes meeting mine in the glass as I coaxed her hands to lower, an action she gave into with little pressure.
The silk fell from her body like water, her pink-tipped breasts shaking with the short breaths she took as she stared back at me in the glass.
“Who would I be to deny them that right? When I’m the one who gets to take pleasure in bringing you to that release?” My voice deepened, and my hips pressed into the rounded curve of her ass so that she could feel just how much pleasure I derived from that, from her. “Let them look, at you, at us—who are they to even dream of touching?” My lips fanned down the side of her neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath them.
I used only one hand to hold her to me, using the other to get rid of my own clothing, and reveling in the feel of her heart rate skyrocketing even further from realizing my intentions. The reflections of us in the window shifted, the sight of both of our bare bodies making her eyes widen. Without a word she went to close the shades, but I reached forward to stop her.
“Let them look,” I muttered again, pressing the words and my teeth into the round of her shoulder. I could feel her tense beneath my hands, her breath quickening as she pushed her ass back into me.
“Dmitry,” she groaned, my name a throaty exhalation of wanton desire. “Please. . .”
“Please . . . what?” I asked her, not bothering to hide the growling, growing need in my voice. “Please close the shades Please don’t touch you? Please keep going?” I murmured, my lips following the indentation of muscle and bone at the side of her throat.
I could see her eyes growing even more heavily lidded as I spoke. She shifted to allow my hand to move around from her hip and along her lower stomach. My fingers tapped their way down, pushing over the smooth skin as it grew more and more heated beneath my touch. I stopped there, my fingers pushing into the skin as if to further entice her to speak.
“Da. Oh fuck, Dmitry,” she moaned, arching into my hand as if that would make me move any faster. “Please. You. I need you. Right away,spaseeba.”
Her barely there accent grew with each word, the Russian falling thickly from her tongue as she spread her thighs. I could feel myself sliding against her there, the warmth of her wetness pulling me in, and my fingers drifted lower down the front of her even as my dick pushed between her thighs. “Fuck, you feel so good,” I ground out into her skin, unable to keep my composure for even half a second longer.
The both of us inhaled simultaneously as I entered her, all my thoughts of torturing her further, drawing it out more, fading. She clenched around me, her palms landing heavily against the glass as I thrust the rest of the way into her.
“Oh, oh my God. Fuck. God, please,” she breathed as she bent her body over. I could feel her leveraging the glass to push back into me, her body spread out before me like a gift.
