“I need to be inside you.” He roughly pulls my shorts and panties off. “Right fucking now.”
I lift up when he unbuttons his own pants and pulls his cock out. He’s fully hard and already covered in his own arousal. When his strong hands grip my hips and lift me up, I’m more than ready to go for a ride. With a groan, he positions me right above the wet head of his cock before slowly sliding me onto him. By the time he’s fully seated inside me, my whole body is practically humming.
Looking down at my beautiful fiancé, I let out a shaky breath, admiring the magnificent view. He’s wearing a suit today, but he’d taken off his jacket before coming to me. Rocking my hips ever so slightly, I start to unbutton his white dress shirt, revealing the tan, muscled chest and abs that I can’t ever seem to get enough of. His hands run up my thighs as he watches me. I’ve never been on top for longer than a few seconds because Mikhail isn’t a man who easily gives up control, but he’s giving it up now.
“Ride my cock,zaichik. Let me see you take your pleasure.”
I love how thick his accent gets when he’s so far gone he can barely think. He reaches for my hands, entwining his fingers with mine. I tighten my grip on his hands and start to slowly raise and lower myself, wanting to take it slow and feel every single stroke as it hits all the nerve endings inside me that I was never even aware of before I met Mikhail.
His dark eyes are heavy-lidded as he watches me, but he can’t keep still for long. Soon, he’s thrusting up, meeting my movements with his own and pulling moans from my body with each thrust. Grinding against him even harder, I feel the coil of tension inside me start to build. Warmth pools between my legs and my breaths are faster and more erratic.
He whispers to me in Russian while his thumbs caress the skin of my hands. I’m still clutching his tightly, gripping him like the lifeline he is. When the orgasm builds to the breaking point, I moan his name and ride him harder, needing it rougher as the climax thunders through me. I hear his deep groan when he feels me pulsing around him with my release. He thrusts into me even harder, his abs and chest a work of absolute beauty, every peak and groove highly defined as his body tenses and he lets go.
I hear him say my name, and I swear just the sound of it sends another rush of pleasure through me. I let go of his hands and lower my chest onto his so I can kiss him. He cups my face, kissing me hard as his cock continues to pulse inside me. His skin is warm and perfect, and the scent of him surrounds me, making me feel completely at peace.
“I love you so much, Misha,” I whisper against his lips, kissing him again before pulling back just enough so I can see his eyes.
“I love you too, baby. More than you can possibly know.”
We stay locked together, chest to chest with my head resting on his shoulder and his fingers lightly dancing along my back.
“The fundraiser is in four days,” he says, tracing a line down my spine. “We need to start getting you ready immediately.”
I fall asleep while he continues planning. I knew he was going to be worried and a bit overprotective about it, but I wasn’t expecting him to wake me up at the crack of dawn and hand me some workout clothes.
“Come on, baby. Time to start your training.”
He pulls the covers off me when I groan and try to bat him away. He laughs and grabs my leg, pulling me to the end of the bed.
“Get up, sweetheart. Time for you to learn how to kick some ass.”
“I’m gonna kick your ass,” I mumble, trying to pull my foot away.
“I can’t wait to see you try,zaichik.”
He clamps down even harder on my leg and starts to tickle my foot until I’m laughing so hard I’m crying and nearly pee the bed. As soon as he lets go, I run for the bathroom, shutting the door on his laughter.
I convince him to let me have a cup of coffee before we start, but all too soon I find myself in his huge basement gym, standing on a padded mat that’s the size of a large square. Plenty of space for me to get flipped onto my ass with room to spare. He always towers over me, but he seems even bigger with his shirt off and nothing but a pair of black workout shorts.
“Focus,” he says with a smug grin when he catches me eye-fucking him.
“I’m trying, but you’re making it difficult.”
He gives me a wink and tells me to punch him. I look at him like he’s lost his damn mind.
“Just do it.” He laughs and adds, “Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me.”
That pisses me off enough to make me throw a punch. Granted, I’ve never punched anyone, and my pathetic attempt is quickly squashed when Mikhail easily swats my hand away like he’s batting away an annoying bug that dared to fly too close.
“Are you really trying?” He lifts a brow at me. “Was that an actual attempt? I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“Jackass,” I mutter, because I think he’s joking. Ihopehe’s joking.
He is not.
“Good God, that was the worst punch I’ve ever seen, and I once had a girl try to hit me in first grade because I wouldn’t give her my cookie at lunch. She at least made contact, though.”
Great, so a first grader is showing me up. Awesome.