“Open your mouth, krasotka. You are going to take my spit and then you are going to take my cum.” I do as he says, opening my mouth to drink his spit, as he rubs the head of his cock up and down between my pussy, spreading the wetness all over. I’m shaking for it, clutching his shoulders, begging him with the tilt of my hips.
Finally, one forceful pump and he’s fully seated inside me. The feeling of fullness is almost too much to bear, but absolute perfection at the same time. Eyes shut, head thrown back in ecstasy, he stills, allowing me time to adjust to his girth, the full feeling only intensified by my leg slung over his shoulder. I’ve never felt as full as I do right now, desperate for our bodies to meld into one.
“You’ll never understand what you do to me, sweet girl.” Warmth floods my body at his words. “You’ve broken me. Do you know how weak I am for you?” An anguished grunt as he thrusts, pulling his hips back, then rocking deep inside me. Eyes glued to my own.
I want to tell him it’s like that for me too, but I bite my lip, holding the words inside. My admission would only make everything that will come after this that much harder. Instead, I focus on the pleasure pulsing through my body. My back arches, my nipples chafing against his dampened chest, the intensity nearly too much to bear.
“Andrei, please…” Words are beyond me now. I’m just a bright light of need and desire.
Sweat drops from his forehead onto my breasts, and I lock my legs around his waist, wanting him as close as possible.
“I want to feel your sweet little pussy milk me so hard. Can you do that for me?”
It’s not just his words that coax my orgasm, it’s everything. How he looks at me, how he holds me. His massive body rests between my thighs, pistoning his cock inside me, from root to tip.
My head thrashes back and forth, as a scream bursts from my lungs, my body singing in sweet relief. As I shatter beneath him, he sits up and slams back inside me, pushing the backs of my knees up against my stomach, my core clenching him
“What are you doing to me?” His voice is tortured, as he stares down at the place we’re connected. He’s slamming in and out of me at a frenzied pace, the sounds of skin slapping taking up the entire room. Another tortured growl and then his body freezes. Hot spurts of his cum fill me, his hips jerking as he presses his face into my neck.
It occurs to me how utterly screwed I am. I feel connected to Andrei in a way that I’ve never felt before, and I’m sure this is a one way-street to getting my heart broken.
Chapter27
GEORGIA
I wake up as Andrei gently untangles his body from mine. We’re in his bed now. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than ten minutes. My limbs are heavy and sated after another round of mind-blowing sex.
After going at it like animals in his private gallery, Andrei made good on his promise and allied me to fan-girl over every piece in his personal collection. He really does love art as much as I do and that makes me even more wild for him. This last round in his bed was more intimate, more like making love.
“Where are you going?” I moan, as Andrei sits up.
A soft laugh. “To get you a glass of water and Tylenol. You’re going to be sore tomorrow after how I used you tonight.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Stay with me.”
His enormous frame envelops me as we lie on our sides spooning, his warmth seeping deep in my bones. “Do you always walk around with a mile of pearls stashed in your pocket?”
“No,” he whispers in my ear, his powerful chest pressed flush against my back. “But I had a feeling I might need them tonight. Or maybe I just hoped I could see you tortured by pearls. I ordered it from my jeweler the day after we met.” He chuckles at his admission, and my heart skips a beat. He knew we would come together, eventually. Maybe on some level, I knew we would as well.
“They are certainly effective.” I admit, stretching my arms out above me, needing to move my body again and allow blood to flow back into my limbs. He rolls me onto my back, taking my mouth in a possessive kiss, his tongue dancing with my own. When he finally pulls back to look into my eyes, I am awed by the intensity that meets me. My gaze drifts down his body, landing on his powerful chest.
“What does this mean?” I breathe, tracing my finger over a tattoo of a hummingbird over his heart, and a beautiful constellation of stars hovering below the bird.
A deep sigh, as he pulls me closer, kissing my forehead. “It’s for my mother. Hummingbirds are beautiful and fragile like her, like life itself. The stars are my brothers and me, always close. Wherever she is.”
“What was she like, your mother?” I ask gently, tracing the intricate art with my fingers. I’m pushing him and I know there is a chance he’ll pull away. But for now, he sighs and rolls onto his back, his hands under his head.
“She was full of life. Loved art, like you. My father and her met at a charity event when he bought a piece of her art that was being auctioned off. He says he fell in love with her painting, even before he met her, although once he set eyes on her, all bets were off. He was smitten.”
“So your parents were a love match?” I know that’s not always the case in the world of the mafia. Like royalty long ago, marriages are arranged to unite powerful families and create alliances.
“They were,” he confirms. “For a while, at least. My mother struggled in the world of the bratva—the need for protection, the constant danger—it’s not a peaceful world, krasotka.”
“I know,” I whisper, twining his fingers with my own.
“Outsiders tend to think it’s exciting at first—until they realize the shit never ends. The violence, the bloodshed, the treachery. You can’t ever walk away from it. My mother loved my father when she married him, but every mark of blood eroded that love. Love isn’t enough once you glimpse the ugliness.”
His warning rings in my ear, a reminder that we will never be more than this.