35. Chapter 35
There was an entire mattress, and somehow we were sharing six inches of it.
Hyper-aware didn’t even come close to describing how I was coping.
The front of his knees were tucked into the back of mine.
The heat of his chest against my body and the faint scrape of stubble when he shifted only heightened everything.
I stared into the dark and counted the spaces between his inhales. Maybe if I synced mine to his, my thoughts might finally shut up. Once more I went back over the parameters of our relationship in my head.
Fake dating. Temporary. For show.
His thumb moved against my side in his sleep, and my pulse tripped over itself in response. For show didn’t feel at all temporary in this game of fake dating anymore. I let out a soft exhale. Our time was at an end. The thought was depressing.
Focus on something different.
The dance earlier. That was safe. I’d nailed the moves. Kinsley would be ecstatic. Maybe she would take me on as a student. Teach me some more of those sensual moves she did. It couldn’t hurt. Right?
Who are you kidding?
It wasn’t like I needed more dance instruction. What the hell would I do with the experience anyway? It wasn’t like I was suddenly interested in going clubbing. The only club I knew was my brother’s. And he was the last person I wanted to think about. Especially while lying next to Pasha.
He shifted behind me and pulled me closer to him. There was something incredibly right about being wrapped in his arms. Cuddling had never interested me before. He made it easy. He made everything easy.
And now I was addicted to him. I closed my eyes and once more tried to match the rhythm of his breathing. Behind my closed lids, a portrait took shape. Me in the rose-colored dress, him in his suit. Our bodies pressed together as we danced.
In vivid colors, we emerged onto my imaginary sketchbook. The tilt of his head. His palm against my spine, guiding me. His brown eyes filled with desire, and the exact moment when his thumb brushed against my jaw. The exact moment he stopped fighting whatever this was.
When he gave in and kissed me. Could I paint that? Maybe when I was back home, I’d lock myself into my studio and give it a go. It was so different from other times. It had been unhurried and light. He savored me, teased me. Anytime our lips connected, it just felt…right.
Almost as if his lips were made just for me.
His surrender was always the same. A low growl, followed by a soft curse. Every single time we kissed, he would do that. It was an invisible barrier, his tell that he was going to fall. And every time it blurred the lines between fake and real.
Now that I was fully committed to my line of thinking, it only made sense to sink into what his kisses did to me. The minute his tongue slid between my parted lips, electrical currents raced through my body. Every time.
Without thinking, I nestled back against him, letting his warmth comfort me. The lines of his cock pressed into my ass. I wanted to roll over and touch him. I craved this man on levels I never thought I would.
It was pathetic and desperate, but deep down, I knew he felt the same. I wasn’t stupid. I knew he wanted me, but he wouldn’t make that move. His control was so much better than mine.
I hated that.
Was it wrong of me to want him to just lose it with me?
A deep-seated, unwelcome need for him consumed me.
The temptation was impossible to ignore.
I carefully rolled over to face him, and he naturally rolled onto his back.
Unable to help myself, I reached out and touched one of the inked lines on his chest.
Dancing had already given him a strong, powerful body, but over the last year, he’d grown broader and more chiseled as he worked out with the guys. His chestnut hair hung low over his forehead, and his beautiful eyes were framed by ridiculously, thick lashes.
He opted to sleep in his gray sweats tonight. I think he did it on purpose—he was bare under. I could tell by the way they hung off him and the outline of his cock. Even when not erect, it was impressive. I could only imagine what it might look like—feel like.
Tired of wondering and with no fucks to give, I trailed my fingers further down his chest to his abs, exploring the grooves and dips of his skin. If he woke up, I’d blame it on sleep deprivation. The muscles of his lower abs tightened subtly beneath my touch.
And then—because apparently since my survival instincts matched my fucks—my hand dipped lower. The firm edge of muscle gave way to cotton as the tips of my fingers brushed the waistband of his sweats. My fingers lingered there. It was a line.
A very soft, very tempting line. One my brain crossed before I knew what was happening. I traced the outline of his cock through his sweats. He stirred under the light caresses.
Feel free to take advantage of me anytime, princess.
The words he said the first morning we were here and repeated throughout the trip echoed in my mind. Was he serious? He couldn’t have meant it. Right? What would he do if he woke up? Could I?
It was as if a stranger took over, and my hand slipped under the waistband. Short, neatly-trimmed hair greeted me. I tangled my fingers in it and tugged, testing the water. This time he didn’t move, but sighed deeply. Then—his body reacted.
It was involuntary, a basic biological function, but damn it did something to me. Arousal pooled between my thighs. Coming to my senses, I yanked my hand out of his sweats, feeling a heated rush of embarrassment.
He groaned in his sleep and pulled me further into him.
In a fit of madness, taking this as some sort of sign from the universe, I threw one leg over his thigh and ground my hips against it.
Then with the slightest shift, I was straddling him, and his cock was between my legs, thrusting against my covered pussy.
I rolled my hips and was soon consumed by the feel of rubbing my clit against him. I didn’t notice that his sweats had slipped. I was soaked, and my satin knickers slid easily across him.
“Oh…” I moaned, feeling frustrated.
I wanted to feel his flesh against me completely. On the next pass, I pushed my knickers down and angled my pussy.
You should stop. This is so wrong.
But then my clit made contact with the shaft of his cock, and the electric heat of his flesh made me crazy with want. I rocked some more, and on the next pass down, he sprang free from his sweats.
The engorged tip of him rubbed against me and nothing would do but to take my knickers off completely. Those bitches had to go. Once those were gone, I once more resumed my insanity.
Nothing had ever felt this good. My body tingled with new sensations. The only thing that would have made it better was if he had been awake so I could feel his hands on my hips, rocking me against him.
I groaned and rubbed his shaft up and down my pussy, separating my lips wider. As my need for him grew, so did my frantic state.
“Fuck, you feel good,” I whispered into his chest. “I’m close, just a minute more.”
I hated the desperation racing through me, but it was so true. I needed him. Only another minute more, and I could get myself there. It was building. Chancing it, I peeked up. He was still very much asleep. The relief was instant—I was still in the clear.
On the next pass, the tip of his cock pressed at my entrance, and I froze. It was thick, and suddenly I realized just how much. My pussy clenched in fear. But my body vibrated with a hunger that was unrelenting.
And I wanted to experience it, even if it was just the tip. I swallowed hard and pushed down. A soft moan rent the air as he slid inside a fraction of an inch. My mind screamed to stop. That this was not the way to lose my virginity.
I silenced the warning bells and proceeded deeper into my madness. Rough hands gripped my hips, holding me firmly in place. My heart stopped, and I cried out in shame. Time to face the music.
I opened my eyes and frowned. His breathing stayed slow, but beneath closed lids, his eyes moved in a dreamlike pattern. I waited for a second for a change in his grip or a hitch in his breath. Nothing happened.
Was he still sleeping? He couldn’t be.
My mind tried to organize the chaos and my traitorous pussy, who got me into this mess, shifted, allowing him to press in a bit more. White-hot desire shot through me at the feel of his thickness. It struggled to go in any further. Part of me wanted more. Hell, all of it.
An internal game of tug-o-war started. My mind screamed, what an awful person I was for taking advantage of him while he was sleeping. But my body screamed for me to plunge my pussy all the way down the length of him.
To take what I wanted, for once, in my life. His body shifted. Coming to my senses, I stilled mine. He groaned in what sounded like frustration as I lay on top of him, panting like the apparent greedy whore I was.
Work your clit against the tip. That’s safe.
My damned pussy wouldn’t shut the hell up. Brilliant.
I resumed rubbing my clit against him and worked myself up again. After a few seconds, I moved just right, and the throbbing tip swirled around my slick entrance and glided once more between my lips.
Keep it controlled. I talked myself through my movements. A little won’t hurt either of you.
Back and forth I moved, moaning in pleasure. On the next downward stroke, the tip settled at my opening, and I pushed down. I gasped as the thick head of his cock entered me. A shudder of thrill pulsed through my veins. The girls would probably say it didn’t count, but it felt so damn good.
“Just the tip, okay?” I whispered in the dark of our room.
Peak emotional rationale. Whatever, it soothed my conscience. Caught up in what I was doing, I didn’t quite realize his breathing had changed. Nor did I notice the way his fingers flexed against my hips, gripping them tighter.
It should have been my first clue, but it wasn’t.
“It feels so good like that,” I murmured.
Each pass I made, each thrust of my hips, had the thick head slipping in and then out. God, he was huge. The next thrust had him entering me deeper.
“Careful, idiot,” I chastised myself, but didn’t move. I breathed through the initial pain the last thrust had garnered.
“None of that.”
A startled yelp escaped as I pulled my hips away. Heat crept up my neck, burning all the way to my ears. I choked back sobs. Since he wouldn’t let me go, I instinctively brought my hands up to cover my face.
Mortification set in like a sunburn. He let my hips go, pulling my hands away. I couldn’t take the embarrassment. I buried my face in his chest. One hand moved to my hair, and he soothed me, speaking something in his native tongue.
Damn it all to hell. Why didn’t I learn Russian?
“Please,” I begged, consumed with humiliation. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ve never been woken up this way before. I fucking love it. Pretty sure you requested the tip of my cock.” He shifted under me, and he once more slipped easily inside. “You feel incredible, princess.”
“This is so wrong,” I whimpered as he groaned.
“The fuck it is. This,” he hissed as he guided my body carefully over him, “is hot as hell. I want you to use me like your personal fucking playground.”
His voice was strained, and the knowledge that he was on board, not angry, had my body reacting. I ached for more. And by the sounds leaving his mouth, he did, too. It was a cross between guttural groans and whimpers. Each one sent my body into overdrive.
His hand on the back of my head gripped harder, and the one on my hip matched it. When he nudged at my pussy, I widened my legs more, giving him better access. He slipped a fraction deeper. He tensed and murmured harshly against my head.
“Easy, printessa. You’re driving me mad,” he panted, his hands pulling the strands of my hair.
Was I? A little more couldn’t hurt, right? He tried to move my hips up, but my mind was two steps ahead of me, and when I felt that familiar nudge, I pushed. He sank further, causing me to yelp.
That fucking hurt.
The pressure on my hip eased, and his grip softened. One thumb traced slow circles on my skin. His hand went from ‘absolutely not moving’ to ‘your call’. It was just enough to make the point.
Oh. Great. Consent and consideration. How inconvenient for me. I could slide off. Pretend this hadn’t gone too far. We both held ourselves still, lust rolling between us, waiting for something to break.
He moved first. Shifting, he slowly withdrew his cock. I cried out, feeling empty almost immediately. A rough heave tore from his chest as he fought to steady his breathing.
With a soft kiss to my head, he said, “Rub your clit against me. That’s safer. Take your time. I know you were close earlier. I want you to come for me.”
When I didn’t move, he slapped my ass. The sound of the crack echoed in my ears. Partially stunned and partially turned on, I moaned. Embarrassingly loud. My body ground into his hard cock.
“Does my princess like my hand on her ass?”
“I don’t know. Could you do it again?” I asked, thankful that the darkness covered my shame.
He once more brought his hand down on my other ass cheek, pushing me into him.
“Fuck, Lev,” I moaned. “Yeah, I might like that. Again?”
The sound this time was louder as he brought his hand down. The sting was everything. Sharp and welcome. Colors exploded behind my eyelids. The timing was perfect. His cock once more slipped back to my entrance and the pressure forced my body down on him.
My pussy lips swallowed his tip again as if they—like my other ones—were made just for him. He panted my name over and over. Once more his hand flew to my hips. With a bruising amount of pressure, he dug them into my flesh as he tried to hold back.
“Isabella, it’s taking everything in me not to ram inside your tight little cunt and fuck you hard.”
I shivered at his words. That sounded wonderful. “But we can’t, remember,” I groaned.