Chapter 6
Alexei
She swallows hard, and her heated gaze meets mine.
“Okay, so that big boy, tiny space comment? Not so much a joke, I guess.”
I groan as she takes hold of my cock and runs her fist over my shaft.
“Is it a problem?”
“No, no problem. I just—I’m surprised, is all. And so fucking turned on.” She turns her head and guides me to her mouth.
I suck down air when she runs her tongue over the ridges of my cock, tracing the path of one of my veins. Then she closes her mouth over my tip and sucks hard enough to shift my piercing in a way that has sensation sparking up my spine.
“Fuck, Meg. That feels so good, sweetheart,” I hiss as she bobs over me. Every tug of the jewelry and every not-so-subtle suck of her mouth drives me closer to the edge.
And when I think I won’t be able to hold back anymore, she pops off me.
Then she turns her back to me and pulls her hair over one shoulder. Bending forward over the sack of flour, she spreads her legs and flashes me her slick, pink pussy.
“Come on, then, big boy. Let’s see what it feels like.”
“Think you’ll be able to take all of me?” I say, chuckling as I fist my leaking cock and slide it over her slit.
She grins. “Try me.”
I laugh and kiss along the curve of her neck.
“Last chance, little chef. Tell me not to pound this pretty pussy. Tell me it’s not mine.”
“You pucked me once,” she sighs, arching her neck to give me more access. “This time, I want you to make me feel every fucking inch.”
That’s all I need.
My hands flex over her hips as I growl low and thrust deep. She stretches around me, squeezing me so fucking good. Sweat breaks out on my brow as a string of Russian curse words slip out of me.
Because this right here is heaven.
“You feel incredible, Meg,” I say, dropping my head against her shoulder. “So fucking tight. So fucking mine.”
She shudders. Shifts. Clenches over me so that I groan and roll my hips to test the fit of our bodies when I rock into her heat. Her moans rattle against the walls as I draw back and push forward. Over and over, until she meets me, thrust for every frenzied thrust.
I trail my hands over her back, her breasts, her belly. I can’t stop touching her, kissing her, fucking her.
Like a man possessed, I hold on and fight to give her what she wanted.
All of me. Every inch.
“Oh, my god, Alexei. Keep going, just like that.”
It’s so fucking sexy, hearing her say my whole name. I drive deeper. Harder. Grow fucking desperate as she arches against me, mouth seeking mine.
“Tell me what you like.”
“You,” she answers, voice breathless and near breaking. “Touching me. Teasing me. Taunting me with this filthy little mouth and these big, helping hands.”
Twisting, she kisses me hard and guides my hand between her thighs. And together, we circle her clit until she breaks on my cock. I swallow down her scream, never slowing, never stopping while she rides the wave of her release.
And when I finally spill my seed inside her, she gasps and comes with me.
For long minutes, we stay like that. Me still buried deep and pulsing inside her, our ragged breaths and racing hearts still rattling in our chests.
“Oh, my God. What was that?” she whispers, wondrously, twining her fingers through mine. “I loved it.”
She loved it.
I loved it.
And suddenly, I want to love her.
The knowledge hits like a puck to the teeth, and I press a kiss to her shoulder, marveling at the fact that I’ve lost my mind over the woman in a matter of hours.
One look was all it took for her to catch my eye. One accident was all I needed to feel that spark.
But one night working by her side? One hot encounter? It can’t possibly be enough time to fall for the bristly baker I thought I was just dying to get close to.
Except it doesn’t feel fast. It feels right.
“That was just plain wow,” I say. “Intense.”
Then, I’m suddenly aware that I’ve just fucked her over a sack of flour in a bakery storage cupboard, and the scent of flaky pastry, pumpkin and spice swirls all around us.
“I should clean up,” I say, giving her hand a squeeze and slipping out of her.
She’s beautifully mussed in that just-fucked way, with a pink flush staining her cheeks, her chest.
And knowing that I’m the man who made her look that undone does something funny to my heart.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful. Don’t move.”
I head to the restroom and return with a swath of warmly damp paper towels. Then, crouching down before her, I swipe gently between her thighs.
“You okay?” I ask, straightening and tugging her panties and leggings back in place. “I wasn’t too rough or anything?”
“I’m good,” she says, giving me a small, shy smile and running a hand through her hair. “But I’m probably going to have to throw that sack of flour out.”
I laugh, but the sound sticks in my throat when she reaches for my hand and takes her hair tie off my wrist. She sweeps all that dark, silky hair back into a tight bun, and just like that, the baker is back to business, and I’m still reeling from the fact that whatever this was—it wasn’t just sex.
Before I can try to say anything else, the timer sounds.
The pies are done.
But me? I’m nowhere close to done. Not with her.