14. Blair #2
For the most part, I’ve come to terms with the stretch marks that mar my hips and stomach. I’ve told myself a hundred times before, they’re nothing but proof that I managed to create something incredible, just faded silver lines that helped bring me my son.
But what are the odds Andrei will see them that way? I don’t want to see any inkling of disappointment—or worse, disgust—on his face, so I drop my eyes and start tugging at his belt before he can say anything.
My head tilts back when he wraps his fingers through the ends of my hair, tugging until he has my attention, compelling me to back at him.
“Don’t hide from me, zolotse .” His expression is greedy, and when I take a step back, he follows, his breath warm on my face and his grip unwavering as his fingers dip into the band of my panties.
My nipples pebble in my bra, aching as Andrei’s hands find my hips before sliding down to my ass. I let out an embarrassing sound when he grips tightly, lifting me until my legs wrap around his hips, my arms winding around his neck so I don’t fall.
He walks toward the bed, lips against mine.
“I want to see you. All of you. Every inch of your perfect skin, every shiver, every mark and imperfection.” His lips trace along a freckle on my shoulder.
“I’ve waited a long time to see you like this.
Don’t even think about depriving me.” Bending forward, he deposits me gently on the bed, completely at odds with his hard tone. “Tell me you understand.”
“I understand,” I breathe, lightheaded in the face of his confession.
“Good. Then finish undressing.” He shrugs his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor and exposing more ink on his shoulders and arms. I scramble to undo my bra, tossing it without care and rushing to do the same with my panties.
For long seconds, I stare at a tattoo of a raven in mid-flight escaping from the rest of the designs on his chest before I blink, focusing on the smattering of chest hair before my eyes eventually settle on the dark hair that trails into the waistband of his pants as he takes off his belt.
He hooks his thumbs into his pants, pulling them and his boxer briefs off in one fell swoop.
A thrill runs along my spine when I see just how big he is. Thick, long, and pulsing in his hand as he gives himself a slow stroke.
He’s like this because of me. For me.
Fuck.
Not giving me time to properly admire him, he drops to his knees and wraps his hands around my thighs, pulling me to the edge of the bed. I shiver, too turned on to feel embarrassed over how wet I am as his hot breath washes over my pussy.
“You’re even more gorgeous than I imagined,” he says right before impales me with his tongue, pleasure shooting through me at the first touch.
My hands tangle in his hair while he attacks my clit, my hips bucking under the assault.
When he pulls back enough to laugh breathlessly against the crease of my thigh, I choke on a sob.
“Please don’t stop,” I whine, trying to urge him back where I want him. I pull on his hair, and he hums a pleased sound against my pussy, the vibrations echoing through me.
“Fuck.”
Without warning, he slides two fingers into me, pushing me right over the edge.
“Andrei!” My muscles jerk tight, my world narrowing down to his touch, to the pleased sounds he’s making as I come apart. Self-doubt, insecurity, and worry all fall away in the wake of his onslaught. He laps at my release, drawing out each wave until I’m too sensitive and have to pull him away .
He smirks as he sits up, pressing urgent kisses against my stomach.
When he crawls over me, I reach out to run my fingers over his tight chest, desperate to know what his muscles feel like under my hands.
He rearranges my body, and when my hands slide low enough to wrap around the base of his cock, he grips both of my wrists tightly in one hand, pulling them above my head, while leaving a wet trail of precum where he grinds his length against my hip.
Lips against my neck, he groans, “Please tell me you’re on birth control.
Tell me I can fuck you bare.” His voice is thick with want, and even though I just came, I want him inside me more than I want my next breath.
He tweaks a nipple, and I swallow a gasp as I nod. “You’re fucking perfect,” he grunts.
With his free hand, he runs his length up and down my slit, hitting my clit with every pass. With his next swipe, I move my hips, urging him exactly where I want him, but Andrei ignores me with a chuckle.
“What do you want, Blair?”
Without hesitation, I answer, “You.”
“You already have me,” he rumbles lowly, pressing hot kisses along the column of my throat, down the valley between my breasts. I whine, silently begging him to fuck me, to stop this delicious torture.
“Precious,” he whispers against the top of my breast, so quietly I wonder if I heard him correctly. “ Zolotse means precious, like gold.”
Before I can process his words, he slams inside me in a single movement, knocking the air out of my lungs in a silent scream .
I’m so fucking full I have to gasp to get a breath; it feels like he’s setting me on fire. On his next thrust, he lets my hands free and grabs my hips. His grip is just shy of bruising as my legs wrap around his hips, holding tight.
I hold onto his shoulders. The scrape of his chest hair against my nipples slowly drives me insane, each touch sending sparks that push me closer and closer to the precipice.
I roll my hips against him as each slow, powerful thrust fills me completely, again and again.
“Fuck,” he pants into the crook of my neck, his hand slipping between my legs so his thumb can rub unrelenting circles on my clit. “Come on my cock, Blair. I need to feel you.” Like my body was waiting for permission, the wire snaps, and my vision flashes white.
“Blair,” he chants as he ruts into me until he stills, moaning as he swells inside me, each pulse filling me with warmth. Collapsing on top of me, he rolls to the side just enough not to crush me. I press a kiss against his strong jaw, limbs feeling like jelly as I catch my breath.
“Holy shit,” I pant as he pulls me into his arms, rolling onto his back, his legs still tangled with mine. He runs a hand along my spine, and I shiver.
“You alright?” he asks against my hair, like he didn’t just fuck me into the mattress and knock me off my axis in the process.
“Better than alright,” I snort, half asleep against his chest. “You?”
“I’m perfect,” he answers, voice soft with a smile. I close my eyes, feeling more comfortable than I have in months as I listen to his contented breaths until I fall asleep.