This should feel amazing.
My dress shifts to the ground, where the fabric bunches up like a snowball. I’m still processing the wedding ceremony, the initiation. It’s a fever dream, not reality.
I stare at the dress. The queen of white, of fine silk, of luxury beyond anyone’s wildest dreams.
I focus on Pavel as I realize my new position in his life—and hisbed.
Mine to wear. His to discard.
His fingers float over my torso, tattoos warping in the dim light. It doesn’t make sense why he would bother taking his time undressing me when he’s already had me.
Unless he wants me to feel good.
My breath hitches as I helplessly watch his fingers disappear between my thighs. I don’t have time to gasp when he drifts back up, digits teasing the edge of my panties. When he pulls them down, I buck. And every inch of me flushes with embarrassment.
Helpless…
This is my wedding night. I’m his wife. I should love him. I should feel excited, happy, over the moon...
But I don’t—far from it. All I feel is defeat.
Snap.
My bra falls away, one of the straps scraping my wounded shoulder blade. I hiss and wince when he blows lightly on the sensitive flesh, the care with which he does the motion scaring me. Warm energy radiates from his fingertips as he gently brushes the area around the tattoo.
Is this the same Pavel who took his time with me at the bar?
He meets my gaze and commands, “Take off my shirt.”
He’s not.
My fingers flutter over the buttons of his dress shirt, fueled by anxiety. God, I’m really not used to this. It’s embarrassing. It’s intimidating.
When he cradles the back of my neck and drags his nose over my throat, my eyes roll to the back of my head. I whimper with every kiss that graces my neck.
My legs lock around his waist as he tips me back.It’s hotter than any wet dream I’ve ever had.
“Take off my pants,” he whispers.
His shuddering moan encourages me. “That’s a good girl…”
Obedience replaces fear. Each layer he uncovers—physical and emotional—turns me on. Yes, this might very well be the same passionate man from my boss’s office, careful fingers indulging every crevice of me like I’m precious. It might be him. Iwantit to be him.
He’s taking his time. He’s drawing graffiti on my body in long, languid strokes that make me shiver. Skin twitches along the pathway of his lips that drift to my cleavage. My eyes lodge in my skull when his fingers nestle between my thighs again. Pleasure laces through my body when he slides his fingers into me.
Thisis what it should feel like. He’s commanding my attention by touch alone. He’s pressing buttons I didn’t know existed. He’s kissing me…
And then he’s flipping me over.
My legs are pushed apart.
He enters me so fast that I scream.
My fingers dig into the sheets beneath me.
Oh.
The slick arousal coating my pussy quickens his repeated plunge. He hugs my chest with one arm. His other arm tilts my hips back, locking me against him. Pressure explodes in my core as each long hard plunge sears me from the inside out.