Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
Something raw and vulnerable flickers across his face before he captures my mouth again, kissing me with a desperation that makes my knees weak. It’s his turn to tug at my robe now, and I feel his hands shake as he unfastens the belt at my waist.
When the fabric falls away, leaving me completely naked, his breath catches audibly. His gaze travels over my body like a physical touch, heating my skin wherever it lands.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, his accent thicker than usual. “So fucking perfect.”
His hands skim up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. Even that light touch makes me arch into him, a soft moan escaping my throat. Every nerve ending feels hypersensitive, like my body has been waiting for his touch my entire life.
And then his mouth is on me, hot and worshipful as he pays homage to my breasts. His tongue swirls around one nipple while his hand cups the other, and I throw my head back with a gasp that turns into a long, low moan.
“That’s it,” he encourages against my skin, his voice rough with approval. “Let me hear you, milaya . Let me know how much you love this.”
His mouth and hands work in perfect rhythm, alternating between gentle and demanding, until I’m writhing against him and clutching at his shoulders for support.
Just when I think I might die from the pleasure, he slides down my body, trailing kisses down my belly.
A wave of gooseflesh follows in his wake as his stubble grazes my sensitive skin.
Settling between my thighs, his heated gaze meets mine, and the air between us sparks with a current that makes my nipples tighten and my core clench. He leans down, pressing a kiss to my mound.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin, and I feel the word more than I hear it.
His lips ghost over the downy hair over my pussy, and then his tongue flicks out and finds the nub of my clit.
A strangled noise escapes my throat as sensation skyrockets, white-hot and relentless.
His tongue laps at me as his teeth graze the tingling flesh, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to my core.
My hips buck off the couch as I silently beg for more, desperate for the touch of his mouth.
“Osip,” I gasp, threading my fingers through his hair to hold him close. “Please, right there. Don’t stop.”
His eyes meet mine as he chuckles, the vibration sending more delicious sensations ricocheting through my body. “You’re gorgeous like this, Ilona. All mine. Wanting me. Needing my touch.”
“Yes,” I whisper, every muscle drawn taut as bowstrings. “Please, I need you. Touch me.”
A dark smile curves his lips, and he traces his tongue up the seam of my pussy.
“Beautiful,” he says again, his voice a guttural rumble that sends shivers through me. “I love the taste of you, milaya .”
I whimper, struggling to keep my heavy-lidded eyes open as his breath washes over me, hot and rapid.
Tension winds through me like a spring, tighter and tighter with every swipe of his tongue, every light kiss and gentle nip.
My fingers clutch at the couch cushions, knuckles white as I silently urge him on.
“Osip, please,” I beg, my voice high and broken. “Right there. More, please.”
He gives me what I ask for and so much more.
His mouth is magic, a brand of hot fire that sends me spiraling into a million pieces. I cry out, my hands automatically fisting in his hair to hold him close, to never let him stop. His tongue strokes and flicks and laves, his lips sealing around my swollen bundle of nerves to suck gently.
My cries fill the room, a symphony of pleasure and need that he conducts with every clever stroke of his tongue. My hips continue to buck off the couch in a silent plea for more pressure, more speed, more of that wicked mouth that’s driving me out of my mind.
“You taste incredible, Ilona. Sweetness and heat and pure fucking desire. This is all for me, milaya .”
His words hit me like a spark, igniting the explosive tension that’s been building. My back arches completely off the couch, and I clench around his tongue, my cry of pleasure echoing in the room.
“Osip! Oh… Oh… Oh, God!” I cry out as my body convulses with pleasure, his mouth relentless on me even as the waves of my orgasm begin to recede.
He only stops when my cries turn to whimpers, when my body goes lax and sated against the couch. Gently, he kisses his way back up my body, pausing to swirl his tongue inside my navel before finally pulling back to look at me.
His eyes are hooded with passion, dark and stormy, the pupils blown wide with desire. When his fingers brush away the damp strands of hair clinging to my cheek, his thumb traces the trail of a tear that escaped without my notice.
“You okay, milaya ?” His voice is rough with emotion, his thumb gentle against my skin. “Did I hurt you?”
My breath still comes in gasps, my body thrumming with the aftermath of pleasure. “No,” I whisper, reaching up to cradle his stubbled jaw. “You didn’t hurt me. That was… God, Osip, I’ve never felt anything like that.”
His smile is pure male satisfaction, his eyes glittering with dark promise. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making you feel that and so much more. Mark my words, Ilona Katona Shiradze. You’ll never know a night without pleasure so intense it leaves you crying out my name.”
My skin flushes with sudden heat, sensitive and tingling all over, especially between my thighs where he’s just branded me with his mouth. I should be embarrassed by how responsive my body is, how much I want to experience that pleasure all over again.
Instead, I feel powerful. The way he’s looking at me— like I’m a goddess he’s been granted permission to worship— makes me feel like the most desirable woman in the world.
I run my hands over the hard lines of his body, and my mouth goes dry.
He’s magnificent— all lean muscle and controlled power, his cock hard and heavy between his thighs.
There are more scars here, evidence of a violent past I’m only beginning to understand, but they don’t detract from his beauty.
If anything, they add to it, proof of his strength and resilience.
“God, I want you so much,” I whisper, tugging him closer.
His mouth finds mine again as he settles over me, his weight delicious and welcome. I can feel his cock pressing against my thigh, hot and demanding, but he doesn’t rush. Instead, he kisses me slowly and thoroughly, like we have all the time in the world.
His hands map every curve and hollow of my body with reverent attention, finding sensitive spots I didn’t even know existed. When his fingers finally slip between my thighs, finding me still wet and ready for him, we both groan at the contact.
“So hot for me,” he murmurs against my throat, his fingers circling my clit with perfect pressure. “Tell me what you want, milaya .”
“You,” I gasp, my hips lifting into his touch. “I want you inside me. I want all of you.”
“You have me,” he murmurs against my lips. “Always.” His kiss is gentle this time, almost reverent, as he settles between my thighs. I feel the blunt head of his cock at my entrance, and we both hold our breath as he begins to push inside with exquisite care.
The stretch is perfect, the fullness exactly what I need. He’s even bigger than I remembered, and it takes several long moments for my body to adjust, but the slight burn only adds to the pleasure. When he’s finally seated fully inside me, we both go still, just breathing each other in.
“You feel like home,” I tell him, meaning every word, and I watch something beautiful break across his face.
“So do you,” he whispers back, and then he begins to move.
It’s slow and deep and so perfect I could cry. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through my already sensitized body, and I wrap my legs around his waist to pull him deeper. Our eyes stay locked together, sharing every sensation, every emotion, every breath.
This isn’t fucking— it’s making love in the truest sense, a claiming that goes both ways. I’m his, but he’s mine too, and the knowledge fills me with fierce satisfaction.
“I love you,” I whisper against his lips as he moves inside me, and his answer is to kiss me deeper, his rhythm never faltering.
“My woman,” he growls, and the possessive words send heat spiraling through my core. “Mine. Mine to love and protect forever.”
The pace gradually builds, becoming more urgent, more desperate. His hands grip my hips as he drives into me harder, deeper, and I meet him thrust for thrust, chasing the pleasure that’s building in my core like wildfire.
When my second orgasm hits, it’s even more intense than the first, pleasure radiating outward from where we’re joined until my entire body is shaking with it.
“Osip!” I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders, and the feeling of me clenching around him sends him over the edge.
He comes with a harsh groan, his body going rigid above me as he spills inside me with deep, powerful thrusts. The feeling of his release, the knowledge that we’re joined as completely as two people can be, makes me shiver with aftershocks of pleasure.
Afterward, we lie tangled together in the golden light, both of us breathing hard and thoroughly satisfied. His arms are wrapped around me like bands of steel, like he’s afraid I might disappear if he doesn’t hold tight enough.
“How long?” I ask quietly, my fingers resting softly against his breastbone, where his heart is still beating a frantic rhythm.
“How long what?”
“Until the wedding. How long do I have to plan?”
His laugh rumbles through his chest, and I feel his lips press against the top of my head. “As long as you want. Tomorrow, next month, next year— whatever makes you happy.”
I think about it for a moment, considering all the logistics and complications. “Soon,” I decide. “I want to marry you soon.”
“Done,” he agrees easily, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Soon, you’ll be Mrs. Sidorova.”
The name sends a thrill through me that I feel all the way to my toes. Mrs. Sidorova. Ilona Sidorova. His wife, his partner, the mother of his children.
“I like the sound of that,” I murmur against his skin, and his arms tighten around me in response.