Chapter Twenty-Three #2
In a hushed tone, I say, “So do something about it.”
The air shifts.
A slow, creeping heat spills between us, thickening with each silent second. Neither of us speaks. We don’t have to.
Nikolai steps forward. Deliberate. Measured. Like a man indulging in something he’s been waiting for all night.
I hold my breath.
He sets his glass down beside mine, his fingers dragging against the surface before lifting—reaching for me. A single knuckle glides along my jaw, light as air, then sweeps down, tracing the side of my throat. His touch lingers there. Feeling. Waiting.
Then—he tilts my chin up. I barely register the way my lips part before he’s kissing me.
Slowly. Deeply.
His tongue flicks against mine, teasing and coaxing. Like he has all the time in the world.
My pulse pounds against my ribs, my hands slide up, skimming his chest, his shoulders. The firm muscle beneath his dress shirt is solid. Warm. I grip the fabric, curling my fingers into it.
He exhales against my lips. Amused.
I feel his hands move next—skimming down, finding the zipper of my dress. The midnight-blue fabric slides down my body, peeling away in a slow, torturous drag, revealing the new lace underneath.
A small hum rumbles in his throat. His eyes drop, devouring the sight. Black lace. Delicate. Expensive. Perfectly molded to my skin.
I shift, heat curling lower in my stomach. “Do you like it?”
His gaze darkens. He steps back just enough to unfasten his belt, pulling it free in a slow, smooth motion.
He smirks.
My breath catches when he grips my hips, pulling me flush against him. Hard muscle. Heat. Strength.
The scent of his cologne intoxicates me, weaving through my senses and making my pulse stutter.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t rush. Instead, he trails his fingers down my sides over the delicate lace, feeling every inch of me. Appreciating. Possessing.
I swallow hard. My hands move on their own, sliding beneath the panels of his shirt, palms smoothing over the taut muscle of his stomach.
Fuck.
He’s all rigid heat and control, every inch of him sculpted to ruin me.
A deep, approving sound rumbles from his chest. His fingers flick against the waistband of my lace panties, his knuckles skimming my skin. “Did you wear this for me, angel?”
I exhale, shuddering. “Yes.”
His fingers dip lower, teasing along my inner thigh before dragging over the center of me, just enough to make me gasp. “You’re soaked.”
A flush crawls up my neck.
His fingers press against my most sensitive spot, rubbing slow, devastating circles. Teasing me. Testing me.
I whimper, my knees threatening to buckle.
He catches me easily, his arm boring around my waist, holding me upright. “Good girl.”
My thighs clench together at the praise, but his fingers retreat, leaving me aching.
Then—he steps back. A deliberate measured move, like he’s forcing space between us. Like he’s making me wait.
I suck in a sharp breath, my body pulsing where he just touched me. Where I’m painfully aware he isn’t anymore.
He watches me for a long moment, jaw tight, chest rising and falling with control. With a flick of his wrist, he undoes the first button of his dress shirt.
Another.
Then another.
The fabric slides from his shoulders, exposing every sculpted ridge of his muscle, his ink curling over the cut of his bicep and down his forearm in dark, intricate designs.
I swallow hard.
Nikolai turns, his movements unhurried as he tosses his shirt onto the leather armchair beside the fireplace. The fire casts flickering shadows across his tanned skin, making him look like a god carved from sin—pure lust.
He lowers himself into the chair. Legs spread. Arms draped over the armrests. Completely at ease.
Completely in control.
His gaze hooks onto mine, dark and unreadable. He tilts his head down slightly, dragging his eyes over me, devouring every moment before meeting my own again. “Crawl to me.” Not a request. A command.
Heat bolts through me, my thighs clenching again on instinct. But I don’t hesitate.
Slowly, deliberately, I sink onto my knees, my palms pressing onto the cool hardwood floor as I move toward him. His eyes darken as I close the distance, his breath measured, his jaw tight.
When I reach him, I rise onto my knees between his parted legs, my hands resting lightly on his strong thighs.
His gaze is like fire, dragging over my body, taking in the black lace still covering my curves, the strappy lingerie barely concealing anything.
One large hand cups my jaw. “Take my cock out, babygirl.” The demand sends a fresh wave of electricity through me.
My hands move to the button of his pants, undoing it. The fabric parts, and I tug them down just enough to free him.
Fuck.
He’s already thick and hard, the tip flushed and leaking.
I swallow, dragging my fingers along his length, feeling how he twitches at my touch.
His grip on my jaw tightens, tilting my head up. His voice is low, rough. “I want to see those pretty, pink lips wrapped around me, angel. You know what to do.” He releases his grasp on me, returning his arm to the armrest. Casual. Waiting.
And I do know what to do.
I wrap my fingers around the base of him, stroking slow, teasing.
Then, I take him into my mouth, my tongue tantalizingly slow as I swirl it around the tip.
A sharp hiss leaves him, his grip tightening around the edges of the armrests as I sink down, taking more of him, hollowing my cheeks. “Fuck, angel—” his breath shudders, his muscles tensing beneath my touch.
I set a rhythm, my lips gliding over his length, my tongue swirling against the thick, aching tip, tasting him. Savoring the way he throbs and twitches in my mouth.
His fingers flex as he grips a hand into my hair, trying to control my pace, but I don’t let him. I take him deeper, pushing until he hits the back of my throat.
A groan rips from him. “Goddamn, baby, you know just how to make me feel good.” His grip tightens, guiding me, fucking my mouth in slow, measured thrusts that have my core pulsing, my thighs squeezing, all of me aching for relief.
I shift, my free hand sliding between my legs. My fingers become soaked as they press against my swollen button, rubbing in slow circles, desperate for more.
He notices immediately.
His dark, burning stare flicks down, locking on to where my fingers disappear beneath the lace panties.
His jaw tightens, abs flexing underneath his tanned skin.
“So fucking desperate.” His voice is thick, rough.
“Touching yourself while you suck my cock—” he exhales sharply, eyes flashing.
“What a good little slut you are for me.”
I moan around him, the vibration pulling another sharp, ragged moan from his lips.
But suddenly—he pulls me off him.
His grip on my hair is firm, forcing me to look at him. Dark eyes, blown wide with hunger. With need.
He moves fast. Grabbing me and hauling me up, my knees leaving the floor as he stands, his powerful body pressing into mine.
I barely have time to gasp before my back hits the wall.
In a smooth, swift motion, he moves the lace to the side, and with one brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt.
My head snaps back against the wood, a ragged cry tearing from my throat. His mouth crashes onto mine, swallowing the sound as he fucks me hard against the wall, his hips driving into mine, forcing me to take every inch of him.
It’s intimate. Brutal. Consuming.
His fingers dig deep into my thigh, lifting my leg higher, forcing me to let him in entirely. “Look at me, baby.” His forehead presses against mine, breath hot, heavy. “I want to see you fall apart.”
I whimper, my nails raking over his shoulders as the pleasure builds, twisting tighter, coiling like a live wire.
I’m so close.
But then—he moves me.
Flips me around.
My palms slam against the wall, my breath leaving me in a sharp gasp.
His hand presses between my shoulder blades, keeping me in place as he thrusts back into me from behind—deeper. Harder. Rougher.
A choked cry leaves my lips, my body arching, needing more.
His free hand slides down my stomach, between my thighs, finding my most sensitive spot. Rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts. Destroying me.
“That’s it, baby.” His voice is deep, wrecked. He works his fingers, sliding them down just a little to pull me open even more, stretching me wide for him. “Come for me.”
I whimper, a wordless plea to have his fingers back where I want them. Where I need them. And he complies.
His fingers make faster circles against me now. Hard. Excruciatingly delicious.
Just a little more…
And with another thrust, my body shatters. I scream his name as my orgasm slams into me, blinding, all-consuming.
Nikolai groans, his grip tightening, his hips stuttering as he drives into me one last time.
Now, it’s his turn to break.
A low, ragged moan, his body trembling as he spills inside of me, his forehead dropping to the back of my neck, breathless, shaking.
For just a moment, neither of us move. We stand there, panting, tangled, and utterly ruined.
His lips press against my shoulder, my spine, my skin, trailing electric waves in their wake.
His voice is hoarse and raw. “Fuck, angel.”