6. Maksim #3
I make it three steps into my room before I hear the door slam open behind me.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me!” Aria is there, fury radiating off her in waves. “You don’t get to interrogate me and then just leave!”
“Then talk to me!” I turn on her. “Tell me why you looked at Alexander like he was going to kill you. Tell me what you’re so goddamn afraid of. Tell me something real for once instead of feeding me lies!”
“I can’t!” The words are anguished. “Don’t you understand? I can’t tell you!”
Oh for fuck’s sake, not this again. “Why not?”
“Because if I do, you’ll—” She stops herself, pressing her hands to her face. “I can’t. I just can’t.”
I stare at her, this woman who drives me insane, who won’t trust me but fucks me almost every night. She’s the mother of my child and the keeper of secrets that are slowly destroying us both.
“Then what are we doing?” My voice is quieter now, and I feel exhausted. “What is this, Aria? We fight. We fuck. What is this for?”
“I don’t know.” Her hands drop, and I can see tears on her face. “I don’t know anymore.”
We stand there in the doorway, the passage between our rooms open, neither of us willing to close it or cross through.
Then she moves.
She crosses the distance between us and kisses me with a desperation I haven’t felt from her before. This isn’t anger or rage channeled into passion. This is something else.
I should push her away and demand answers before I let her touch me again.
But I’m only human. And she’s in my arms, kissing me like I’m the only thing keeping her from falling apart.
I kiss her back just as desperately, my hands tangling in her hair. We stumble backward into my room, and I kick the door closed behind us, sealing us in together.
“Maksim.” My name is a gasp against my lips. “Please. I need—”
“Yes.” And I do. I can feel it in the way she’s trembling, how her fingers are digging into my shoulders.
I walk her backward to the bed, and this time when we fall together it’s different. The anger is still there—it’s always there, simmering between us—but there’s something else underneath it. Something desperate and raw that has nothing to do with our usual battles.
I can feel her shaking when I pin her wrists above her head. I use my other hand to tilt her face up to mine.
“What happened tonight?” I demand against her mouth. “What scared you?”
“I can’t.” She shakes her head before pulling one hand free to yank at my shirt, buttons scattering across the floor. “I can’t talk about it. Please. Just make me forget.”
Make her forget.
This should be the point where I tell her no. That I want answers before I touch her again. But she’s pulling at my clothes with frantic hands, and there’s terror in her eyes mixing with the need, and I’m not strong enough to resist her.
I strip her shirt over her head, then her bra, and her small and perfect breasts spill free, nipples already hard. My mouth waters. I take one in my mouth, sucking hard enough to make her gasp, and she arches into me.
“Maksim.” My name is desperate. “Please.”
“Please what?” I scrape my teeth over her nipple and she whimpers. “Tell me what you want, Aria.”
“You.” Her hands are in my hair, gripping hard enough for my eyes to smart. “I need you. Now.”
“No.” I move to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. “Not yet.”
I can feel her frustration in the sounds she’s making, but I don’t care. If she won’t give me the truth, I’ll take my time and make her fall apart beneath me until she can’t think about whatever scared her tonight.
My hand slides down her stomach, popping the button on her shorts. The zipper comes down slowly and I can feel the heat of her even through her underwear.
“You’re already wet for me,” I growl against her breast. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she grits out, her face flushed. “But you already knew that.”
I shove her shorts down her legs along with her underwear, leaving her completely bare beneath me while I’m still mostly dressed. The contrast makes her look even more vulnerable and exposed.
“Spread your legs,” I command.
She does, her face flushing even more. I settle between her thighs and look at how pink, glistening, and already swollen she is. She’s ready for me.
I drag one finger through her wetness, and she jerks at the contact.
“So sensitive,” I murmur. “So desperate.”
“Stop teasing.” Her voice is strained. “Please.”
“Why should I?” I circle her clit with my thumb, not giving her enough pressure to find release. “When you fuck me and then tell me it means nothing?” I press down on her clit and Aria fights back a moan. “You keep your secrets while you scream my name.”
“Fuck, Maksim—”
I slide two fingers inside her without warning, and she cries out. She’s tight and hot and so wet I can hear it as I pump my fingers in and out.
“This is mine,” I say, curling my fingers and hitting that spot that makes her cry out. “Your body is mine, even if you won’t give me anything else.”
“Yes,” she moans as she rocks against my hand now, desperate for more. “Yes, it’s yours.”
The admission makes something dark and possessive unfurl in me. I add a third finger, stretching her, and use my thumb on her clit in tight circles.
She’s close already. I can feel it in the way her muscles are clenching, and how her breathing has gone ragged. But I don’t let her finish. Instead, I pull my fingers out and she makes a sound of pure frustration.
“Not yet,” I tell her, bringing my fingers to my mouth and sucking them clean. Her taste explodes on my tongue and I moan. She tastes sweet and sharp. “Not until I say.”
I quickly strip off my clothes. When I’m finally naked, I can see her eyes go dark as she takes me in along with the evidence of my arousal standing thick and hard between us.
“Turn over,” I order.
She gasps. “What?”
“Turn. Over.” I grip her hip and flip her onto her stomach before she can protest. “On your knees.”
She rises onto her hands and knees, and the sight of her like this—ass in the air, back arched, completely exposed—makes my cock throb painfully.
I run my hands over her ass and squeeze, spreading her open so I can see everything. She tries to press back against me to seek contact, but I hold her in place.
“Please.” Her voice is muffled against the sheets. “Maksim, please.”
“Please what?” I slap her ass and she cries out. “Use your words, moya krasavitsa.”
The endearment slips out before I can stop myself. My beauty. It’s something I used to call her eight years ago when things were different. When I thought I knew her.
She inhales sharply at the words. “Please fuck me. I need—I need you inside me.”
Pure male satisfaction courses through me.
She wants me. She needs me. And I need her.
I line myself up, feeling her heat against my tip.
Then I slam into the hilt in one brutal thrust. She screams into the pillow, her whole body going rigid.
I don’t give her time to adjust as I fuck her hard and deep, my hands tightly gripping her hips.