34
Radnoy
Aleksa
I watched my Russian's profile. Standing naked, he wandered around the room looking for something to wear to the shower.
"What?" he asked, spurred on by my unyielding gaze.
"You look very good in what you're wearing."
"What?" he asked, puzzled, looking down at his feet as if he had forgotten to take off his socks.
"My eyes on your body."
A smile formed on those tempting lips bordered by a neatly trimmed blonde beard, the same one that had made me gasp against the pillow a few hours ago.
"You're incorrigible."
"And you’re too tempting..." I murmured, pinching my lower lip. "Why don't you give me the good morning I deserve?" I patted the mattress invitingly.
"Didn’t you have enough last night?"
"Of you? Never. Come here."
"We have to work," he chided.
I raised an eyebrow at him while caressing myself as I watched him.
"The best part of fights is making up, and you owe my cock more than one apology for all that lack of control."
His blue irises lit up, but his demeanor remained distant.
"Tell your friend that schedules are there to be kept."
"Come on, Andy, don't make me beg," I murmured enticingly, casting a glance at his groin that was beginning to heed my call.
"I’ve told you a thousand times not to call me that."
"Then shut me up with something or I’ll keep going. Andy, Andy, Andy..."
He leapt onto the bed, and his tongue drowned out my chant with a deep lick from my navel up to my mouth. Our cocks rubbed against each other restlessly. I moaned as I felt his weight on my ribs.
"Sorry, I didn't calculate that."
"Doesn't matter, keep shutting me up."
I pulled his head down to my lips and he kissed me again with devotion.
I so loved his damn touch on my body... I wrapped my legs around his waist and continued to rub against him excitedly.
"You drive me crazy," he confessed amid a masculine roar. I smiled; Andrey wasn’t one to say many things like that, so I treasured each of his reflections that tasted of the future.
"And you drive me crazy, son of Putin." A soft laugh resonated in his chest; I had caught him off guard.
I stretched out my arm to grab the bottle of lubricant from the bedside table. It was half-empty after the night’s intensity.
"Fuck me. I want it hard and fast," I demanded, nibbling on his earlobe.
"Those are my favorites," he growled, sinking his teeth into my neck.
"I know," I murmured, unscrewing the cap. "I'm getting to know you."
He pulled away for a moment and let a stream of lubricant fall onto his fingers to warm it up.
His lascivious gaze electrified me. He inserted one finger slowly, dilating me without causing pain.
"Touch yourself while I prepare you," he instructed. He dropped a bit of the cool gel onto my cock, and I tensed up. I immediately covered it with my fingers, moving my palm up and down to warm up. "Like that, fuck yourself," he urged me. His calloused finger went deeper and deeper. I stroked myself, drowning in gasps.
With his free hand, Andrey began to touch himself. He had a magnificent cock.
"Russian..." I moaned as he drove it in deep, trapped by my warmth.
"Shhh, keep going, I love watching you like this, touching yourself for me."
Could there be anything more intimate than pleasuring yourself in front of the person you love with their finger lodged inside you? For me, there couldn’t.
My bent knees opened to offer him everything I was. I faced him, lifting my hips in search of his slow penetrations. He knew exactly how to touch me, how to drive me mad. He reached my prostate and began to massage my P-spot. I was more than ready.
"If you keep doing that, I won’t last," I said, breathlessly. Sweat began to accumulate at the base of my spine.
"And you think I care? I want you to come, to stain your skin with your essence, to see how you let go, and while you burst, I want to plunge into you."
His words only spurred the sensations that multiplied with each thrust.
"Andrey..." I was more than ready and dilated. My balls tightened, and I began to tremble as I held back the spasms.
“Do it. Come for me. radnoy [5] .” I wasn't entirely sure what he had called me, but that look told me everything I needed to know, that it was something beautiful, intimate, and meant just for me.
The milky streams shot out. My breath hitched. His finger left the warmth of my backside to be replaced by something much bigger and thicker, filling me completely.
I rolled my eyes back as he pushed hard, grunting, echoed by my gasps, with my seed anointing us both, and his gaze taking possession of my actions.
I savored each thrust of his hips, every touch of our skins, each kiss of our gazes, because yes, there are gazes that kiss. He filled me, melted into my warmth with my name suspended between his lips.
The last spasms of pleasure brought his mouth down to mine and we kissed, with the tenderness of those who forget it when fucking like animals.
"You make it very hard for me, Russian."
"You do too," he commented, brushing a sweat-soaked hair from my face. He kissed me again. "You know this isn’t what I wanted, right?"
"Sometimes you don't get what you want, but what you deserve."
"And you're what I deserve?"
"Without a doubt," I agreed, biting his lower lip.
"I like you too much for my own sanity," he replied, filling me with satisfaction.
"You're in luck, because so do you. By the way, what did you call me earlier? It sounded very nice."
" Radnoy ?" I nodded.
"It means a pus-filled pimple in the ass," he said very seriously. I almost believed him, if it weren't for something resembling a smile flickering across his face.
"Bullshit! What did you really say?"
"Darling, I called you darling."
I rewarded him with another kiss, much more intense than the previous ones. I'm sure that if my phone hadn't rung, another round would have followed after our necessary recovery.
Andrey went to take a shower and I took the opportunity to speak to Piero, whom I had asked via a message to follow Koroleva because I didn't trust her.
"Tell me."
"I followed her to a hotel."
"A hotel?"
"Yes, R left on his motorcycle half an hour before she did. At first, I thought she was going to use one of the services or grab a coffee, but she went up to one of the rooms." I had a feeling, and from what I was hearing, I was on the right track.
For a married woman to go alone to a hotel room could only mean one thing. In Koroleva’s case, two: she had a lover, an accomplice, or perhaps both.
"Okay, don't lose sight of her and send me the location. If you can, take pictures of the person who goes to visit 'the boss,'" I said pointedly. "Because I'm sure someone will show up."
"I’ll do what I can."
"Don’t put yourself in danger, Piero."
"Don't worry."
I grabbed some clothes and went to the bathroom on the lower floor, ignoring the surprised looks of my men as I ran naked, with what seemed like the remnants of a romp on my abdomen.
What mattered to me now was not my image, or what they might deduce. The important thing was to catch that treacherous bitch before she got us all killed.