A sob hitched in her throat, but he did not stop. He had ensured he brought her to pleasure so she was wet enough to take his thick length.
“Arch your breast to me.”
Her eyes widened but she complied. The move pressed her sweat-drenched body against his chest. He groaned at the friction of her bare skin rasping against his, a primitive triumph twisting inside, for the sensation did not repel him. Her nipples were a dusky pink, and he took a hardened nipple between his teeth and bit, before rolling it gently and sucking. She damn well purred, then shivered on his cock, bathing him in liquid heat.
A strangled groan escaped Mikhail’s lips. The feel of her slick heated flesh slowly engulfing the crest of his cock nearly drove him to his knees. Pleasure rippled from his engorged length to his balls.
“Marry me, Payton.”
Her eyes flared. “No.”
He’d never felt this lust curling through him with another woman. He clenched his teeth against the searing pleasure. The edges of his control frayed, he coasted his hands up to the curve of her back, hugging her close to him, and drew her down to meet his upward plunge.
“Mikhail!”
Her cry echoed in the cottage. She tugged at her wrists, but the knotted cravat held firm. He brushed his thumb over her trembling lips. Then without any urging from him, she rode him slowly, rolling her hips in a rhythm that was instinctively sensual and decadent.
Mikhail gripped her hips, encouraging her wicked motions, and she groaned. Need coiled hot and intense through him. He wanted everything.
“Mikhail.” Her moans poured through the air as she rocked on his length.
Lust rippled through him at the picture she presented, her hands bound, her back arched, the graceful curve of her throat on tantalizing display, her tangled hair rippling down her back and cascading over his knees, her skin sweat-drenched. She was so beautiful.
He lifted her and dropped her down on his length with strength. A low, keening cry broke from her throat as he seated her fully on his cock. He stood with her, tugging at the knots at her wrists to loosen them. He tumbled with her to the bed, keeping his weight on his arms. “Grip the pillows and do not release them.”
She gasped, growing even wetter, and he groaned low in his throat. She was so wonderfully responsive.
“Wrap your legs around my hips.”
Her eyes flared, and a sensual smile curved her lips. She complied, and he withdrew and plunged into her with the full force of his desire driving him. She whimpered but her flesh parted to take him, and she arched her hips into his ravenous thrusts. He pressed his nose into the hollow at the base of her neck and let his world catch fire.
Mikhail drowned himself in the maddening bliss of being surrounded by her wet heat. He made love to her fiercely, taking and giving, driving into her with a pounding rhythm that shook the cot against the wall. There was a distant clang in his head to remember her innocence, but she did not allow it with her whispered moans and pleas for more. Her breathing grew ragged, and she undulated underneath him with raw carnality, gripping his cock in the tightest, wettest clasp he’d ever experienced.
She was a sensualist, and she was his.
When the bliss claimed her, she clamped her supple legs around his waist, restricting his motions, burning him with cold ice at the feel of being trapped. She yelled her pleasure, and he lifted from the crook of her neck and claimed her lips. He rode her through her orgasm, and she sobbed and moaned all of her delight and need into his kiss, drawing his passion from him. He bit into the soft of her lips as he tumbled with her.
Payton’s heart raced, and sweat slicked her skin. She fought the sense of drowsy contentment and glanced at Mikhail. It was very difficult for her to remain distant and to hold onto the betrayal that had shafted her insides when they were entwined so intimately.
He lay on top of her, cradled between her thighs, holding his weight off her by resting on one of his elbows. His other hand cupped her cheek, and she could not tear herself from the intensity of his stare.
“I can see the distance in your eyes,” he said softly.
“And I can feel it in your touch.”
His muscles locked, and her heart pounded.
“This was farewell, Mikhail.” She pushed the words past the lump in her throat.
He held her gaze for the longest time, not speaking or protesting. His blue eyes darkened with an emotion she was unable to decipher. Lacing his fingers through hers, he pressed her hands above her head and shifted between her thighs.
She gasped as she felt the broad length of him against her tender entrance. Without releasing her from the power of his mesmerizing gaze, he thrust deep and embedded himself in one hard stroke. The cry strangled in her throat. She felt deliciously impaled, the penetration stretching her despite the wetness of her flesh. But the shocking and devastating thing was the brutal punch of pleasure that roared inside her and shattered her into pieces.
A low, sensual chuckle came from him.
Heat dusted her cheeks. He had brought her to pleasure from simply entering her body. She tugged at her hands, and he released them. She wound her hands around his neck, tugging his lips to hers. “This does not mean anything,” she whispered hoarsely.
He froze, and it was a dagger to her heart. She slowly slipped her hands from his skin and fisted them in the sheets.
“Wrong,” he murmured, then withdrew and plunged deep, sinking her hips into the mattress, without breaking the connection of their stare. “The way you bathe my cock with your pleasure, the ecstasy you feel at my touch, the pleasure that wrapped around my heart from simply breathing in your scent, is everything.” His voice was dark as sin. Then he withdrew and snapped his hips forward with shocking strength.
A sob clawed from Payton’s throat at the devastating pleasure.
“This means everything,” he said, then he took her lips in a kiss so soft and gentle she quaked.
Though his lips and tongue coaxed and soothed her, the rhythm of his hips as he loved her was untamed. She wanted to coast her hands over his shoulders, feel the ripple of his muscles under her palm, bite the cord of his neck, and taste the sweat on his skin.
“Please let me touch you,” she breathed. “I will go slowly.”
“No.” His refusal was a pained moan and a piercing to her heart. She could not imagine a life where she never held him.
“I want to run my arms over your shoulders, your back, your buttocks, I want to feel the sweat on your skin, the power in your body as you push your c-cock into me over and over,” she tempted against his lips on a soft purr.
“No.”
His lips denied her, but his eyes were a dam of need so powerful, she expected it to crash over her at any moment and drown her.
“Let me taste you,” she said, and bent her head to nip his shoulders.
“No.”
“I cannot bear not holding you.”
“If you want me to stop, you’ve only to say the word.”
Alexander. Yet it was “Mikhail,” she gasped, as his thrusts grew rougher, more demanding, and she slid deeper into bliss, burying her face against his neck, and sliding her hands against the silken sheets to once more grip the pillow, desperate for a firmer anchor.
His hips snapped harder and deeper, and every nerve ending in Payton came alive with pleasure and erotic pain. He captured her lips in a fierce kiss and thrust, once, twice, and on the third plunge her entire body shuddered under the onslaught of bliss.
“Look at me.” His voice was a growl.
She lifted her eyes to his.
Please, she silently begged, let me touch you.
She couldn’t break the power of his stare, the demand to be connected on such a level as they tumbled into ecstasy.
A rumble of thunder echoed in the cottage, and the cool air chilled the sweat on her skin. She trembled, and he shifted, drawing the blanket over them, cocooning her in blissful warm, yet false, intimacy. He pulled her to him, so close she coul
d feel the heat, yet he was careful they did not touch. She remained silent, floating in a haze of pleasure, trying to ignore the questions prodding her mind, and the raw pain in her heart. The fire turned to ash yet they did not move or speak.
“How long has it been since you welcomed another’s touch?”
His breathing did not change, nor did he stiffen, but she swore she could feel the tension weaving itself through his muscles.
“Ten years.”
Her stomach knotted. She wanted to soothe the emptiness she heard in his voice. She slid her hand across the silken sheets without looking in his direction. She held her breath when the side of her hand bumped into his. Payton slowly relaxed when he did not flinch or shift away. A small smile lifted her lips, for this was the first time she had touched him, though it was the lightest of touches, and he’d not flinched. “I am deeply sorry, Mikhail.”
Silence.
“Will you tell me?”
He tensed. “When I was sixteen I was kidnapped.”
Her breath hitched.
“My father was a friend and great supporter of the Emperor of Russia, Alexander II. Our emperor was hated for some of his bold political successes, and there were those who sought to undermine him. It was hard for their arms to reach and influence the emperor himself, so they turned to those close to him, their families, seeking a weakness to exploit. Once they found that weakness, they would have then used Alexander’s supporters to infiltrate where they could not. A group of people who years later formed the Narodnaya Volya, turned their eyes on my father’s family and activities.”
Mikhail glided his fingers over her hand beside his, and then finally locked them together.
“I was taken, and while the ransom for information was sent to my father, I was held in a brothel, a place they were sure the authorities would never look to find me. I was tied to a bed, hand and foot, waiting to be rescued. Hours later, the Madam of the house—Anya—came into the room. It seems she just had not been able to resist me, or resist bringing in her clients, men and women to use me. No threat I used could discourage her, and despite the disgust, shame, and rage I felt, nothing prevented me from responding to their vile touches. I was with her…and them…for several days before my father’s man arrived.”