Chapter 17
Misha claimed my mouth, a fiery embrace that rocked me head to toe. As his lips slanted and slid over mine, I did my best to tease and nibble in return. My arms draped around his neck, and my lips parted that our tongues might meet, a sensual glide that had my breath hitching.
He sat down on the bed, dragging me into his lap.
The jeans he wore did little to hide the hard evidence of his arousal.
I shifted myself so instead of sitting sideways, I straddled his body, giving myself a thrill as I ground myself against him.
While his hands gripped my waist, I clutched at the fabric covering his shoulders as we continued to kiss.
An embrace that had me flushed and panting and totally ready to shove him flat onto his back and get some satisfaction.
While a quick release tempted, I also didn’t want this moment to end.
His hands went roaming, sliding down to cup my ass. He palmed my cheeks, squeezed them, dug his fingers in and helped me grind our bodies together, drawing a groan-like sound from both of us.
I couldn’t have said who initiated the shirt removal, only that with two sets of hands, it got flung aside in a split-second, leaving me clad only in a sports bra. A bra that also went flying.
His calloused fingers traced my bare skin, leading me to break off the kiss and lean back, giving him full access to my breasts. He began by cupping them, cradling them in his palm, stroking his thumb over the tip, the light sensation making me bite my lip and shiver.
His rough thumb teased over my nipple, tightening it into a hard point that must have proven tempting because he abruptly went from admiring with half-lidded eyes to latched on.
Oh my.
I couldn’t help but gasp as his tongue swirled around my taut bud. I quivered as he pinched and teased the one not receiving oral attention.
I’d never been so aroused and so ready. Impatient too.
My hands went to the buckle of his belt, slipping it loose, before flicking the button and then getting annoyed the zipper wouldn’t come down.
Misha stood abruptly, and he proved defter than me in shoving down my bottoms. It took a bit of tugging on the zipper, but eventually his pants parted and I was able to grab his hard cock.
Hard.
Thick.
Long.
I couldn’t help but stroke my hands up and down his shaft, and he drew in a ragged breath before whispering, “I don’t think I can handle much more teasing.”
“Me either.”
While my pants were undone, they were still clinging to my hips, so I shoved them down, but their slim design had them bunching around my ankles, and I wasn’t about to do the unsexy dance of hopping and trying to tug them off. Instead, I turned around, and bent over, hands braced against the bed.
When he didn’t immediately slam his cock in—despite me exposing my pretty pink pussy—I glanced over my shoulder, saw him staring, absolutely riveted—which I approved of—and drawled, “You can admire my perfection after you fuck me.”
And fuck me he did.
He positioned himself behind me, hands on my hips, tip of his cock poking.
He nudged apart my nether lips, teased me with the head.
The fucker seemed determined to take things slow, but I was too horny to wait.
I slammed back against him, sheathing his dick in one fell swoop, drawing a guttural groan from Misha.
I would have probably yelled, but I had no breath.
No thought other than fuck he felt good.
He fit inside me just right. Thick enough to stretch.
Long enough that when he began rocking, thrusting in and out with short strokes, he hit my sweet spot.
Hit it over and over. My breath hiccupped each time.
My pussy tightened. My fingers clutched at the sheet on the bed, and my head hung down as I felt myself getting lost in the pleasure.
Realizing I could handle his strokes, he began moving faster, and when I managed a barely audible, “Harder,” he slammed me. His flesh slapping against my ass. His balls tickling as they swung. His cock giving me what I wanted and needed.
Satisfaction and the biggest orgasm of all time.
I mean we’re talking heart-stopping, brain-blanking, body-paralyzed-in-bliss climax.
I just about collapsed. I’d expected the sex to be good, but that had been way more intense than expected.
Before I could collapse on my face, Misha hooked an arm around my waist, and next thing I knew, I sat in his lap, leaning against him, trying to capture my breath now that my lungs were working again.
“That was…” He seemed to lack the words, so I gave them to him. “Stupendous. Awesome. Ridiculously good.”
He chuckled. “Yes. But also surprising.”
“Surprising how?”
“You’re so different from the women I usually bed.”
“Because I’m not an elf?”
“Because you’re bold and unafraid to take what you want. You’re comfortable in your skin and give yourself fully to pleasure.”
“How could I not feel sexy and confident when you look at me with those smoldering eyes?”
Another chuckle emerged, and it came with a smile. “You are something else, Beavertail.”
“You did not seriously call me that after having the most epic sex, Twinkle Toes.”
His brow arched. “Exactly what is Twinkle Toes supposed to signify?”
“Isn’t that the name of one of Santa’s elves?”
He gaped at me. “You would compare me to those fictional serfs?”
“Says the guy likening me to a toothy, ugly animal that chews on wood.”
One half of his mouth tilted into a lopsided smile. “Wait, are you saying you don’t eat wood?”
With that kind of challenge, I showed just how well I could devour his wood, which then led to me discovering the man knew how to feast on a pussy.
Despite having two orgasms under our belt, we almost fucked again.
However, according to my growling belly, we needed food.
We left the cabin and headed to the dining car where we played footsies.
We didn’t have the patience to sit and eat dessert, opting instead to bring the mousse-like dessert back to our cabin, where we put it to good use.
We spent the next few days mostly in bed.
Talking about our lives—vastly different.
Leaving only to feed ourselves. Cedric had an uncanny way of knowing when he could return to the cabin in between our sexual bouts.
He didn’t say anything about the change in mine and Misha’s relationship, but I felt his judgment. Didn’t care.
Did I know where this thing with Misha would lead? Nope. Was I having fun? Very much so. A fun that got extended several hours when a problem on the track delayed our trip.
Alas, we couldn’t travel forever. We were two hours out of Moscow, snuggling after yet another epic round of sex, when Misha suddenly stiffened. “Get dressed.”
“Is Cedric back?” I dumbly asked, despite not having heard any scratching.
I blamed the lack of blood to my brain caused by my naked lover hopping from the bed to find his pants.
You’d think the fact I’d been exploring that body for the last two days would have given me some immunity.
Nope. My girly parts ignited, despite being recently satisfied.
“It’s not the dryad. Trouble is brewing.” With that statement, the tender lover disappeared and the steely-eyed warrior took his place. A warrior who pulled out a very big knife from his bag.