Page 90 of Fangs and Fudge
Yes. All my worries could wait. I could be in the moment for this.
“We’re here, Mr. Turgenev,” the driver announced, and I realized with a start that we were in front of the nicest hotel in Seattle. How long had we been parked here?
“Want me to tell him to take another couple of passes around the block?” Mikhail asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement at my confusion.
“That’s wasteful,” I said. “We’ve already arrived.”
I didn’t know whether I could trust my legs after all that, but I managed to get out of the car all right. Mikhail took my hand and placed it in his arm.
“Who am I supposed to thank for teaching you all these nice manners?” I teased him. Sure, he was still the Mikhail I knew, but there were all these new layers to explore. A certain formality, for one. Tipping, for another, as the doorman greeted us and ushered us to a private elevator away from the ones the rest of the hotel used.
“I guess it should be Sergei,” Mikhail said. “At least, he’s the one who shoved all the books at me to read in between scheduling me for lessons and meetings.”
“What kind of lessons?” I asked, curious, as the doorman inserted a special key into a slot beside the rest of the buttons of the elevator, and bid us a good night.
“Etiquette,” Mikhail answered, nodding to the man who’d helped us as the doors slid shut. Alone and in a small space, he turned to me. I shuddered, unable to control myself. “Ballroom dancing.”
“That I’d like to see,” I managed before he trapped me in the corner of the elevator and kissed me hotly — much more desperately than when we’d been in the back of the car. I realized he’d been reserved then because we were still essentially in public. But in this tiny elevator, away from prying eyes, on our way to what I assumed was a penthouse suite, there was nothing to hold him back.
Nothing to keep him from sneaking his hand beneath the hem of my dress and exploring my shaking thighs. He urged them apart with his knee and palmed me, rubbing the lace of my panties between his fingers like he was trying to appraise the quality of the fabric.
“Wet already,” he breathed with delight, nipping at my ear. “How long has this been going on? Since the car? Before?”
I kissed him to avoid having to answer, because then I would’ve had to confess to being wet since seeing him climb out of that damn Tesla. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him for a moment — and what it might mean to me that he was back.
I’d hoped it would be this. I’d willed it so.
He slid one of his big fingers into me roughly, testing me, and I bucked against it. It made him laugh, and he pushed his thumb against me like he had all those years ago, exploiting my biggest weakness — and my most sensitive spot. I panted and tossed my head — nearly hitting it on the wall behind me — when Mikhail abruptly picked me up and wrapped my legs around his waist, hiking my dress up and over my rear and gripping my cheeks.
He was so strong. I was essentially being manhandled … and I loved it.
The elevator binged softly and the doors slid open, Mikhail still kissing me as he carried me into the penthouse. Soft, warm lights gently illuminated as we progressed through the space — I realized belatedly that it had to be some kind of motion-sensing technology, since Mikhail had his hands full with me.
I pulled at his tie as his hands crept under my panties again, wishing I could have him at the same sort of disadvantage he had me. I was in such a vulnerable position, virtually half-dressed, while he was still in full formal wear.
He tossed me down and I yelped as I bounced off of one of the softest mattresses I’d ever felt. His grin was purely predatory as he yanked off the tie I’d loosened and plucked apart his button-down shirt.
Mikhail was all man. He’d filled out considerably since the last time I’d seen him like this, those lean muscles bulking out — probably from some exercise regimen he’d taken on. His dark beard was mirrored in the sprinkling of hairs along his chest … and further down, leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. He was gorgeous.
“Shall we pick up where we left off, malysh?” he asked me, raising a dark eyebrow. “Seeing how many times I can make you cum?”
There was nothing I could do to answer that but nod. My body had missed him just as much as my heart had.
“Perfect.” He dragged my panties down over my knees, then my ankles, and tossed them over his shoulder. My dress was already hiked to my waist, but he pushed it even higher, tracing over my soft belly, probably just to see me shudder.
He leaned forward to press a kiss to my navel and trailed further brushes of his lips down my body. Just when I thought he’d kiss me where I wanted him to, he’d stray off to my thigh. My hip. My knee. I was nearly thrusting up at him in frustration when he finally laughed and took pity on me.
Then, and only then, I realized it wasn’t pity at all. It was further torture. Torture and its cure. Pain and pleasure. Wanting and hoping.
His tongue was so deft in its attentions, circling around its goal like it had all the time in the world. When he was giving my most sensitive spot attention, it was lapping, ephemeral. It didn’t last. He much preferred to explore everything else when I only wanted him to focus on a single place.
Mikhail was obviously enjoying himself as I all but choked on moans and short curses and pleading noises.
My orgasm sneaked up on me, building in a steady crescendo that I had no chance of resisting. My entire body gave way to it, my back arching and fingers clawing at the mattress as I overflowed. Flooded. Came up gasping for air like I’d been underwater my entire life.
Mikhail held my hips the entire time, anchoring me, continuing to lick me through my final waves of pleasure.
“Are you ready for me, malysh?” He had taken me apart without even unfastening his belt. Part of me hated the power he had over me.
I wanted him so badly. So badly. But I was afraid. Afraid of what would come after. Afraid of myself. Afraid of what all this would mean.
“Misha,” I tried, my words slurred with desire and pleasure. I didn’t want… I did want… I didn’t know what I was doing… “Wait!”
