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This girl is something otherworldly. The way her body responds to me turns me on to the point of self-destruction. I’m terrified I’m going to pay for this in the morning.
And even so, I can’t reason with myself.
Mel rocks forward, intensifying our connection. I lift my hips, meeting her rhythm as I fuck her slowly, willing myself not to break her since I’ve already bought my ticket to hell. Because there’s no way I’m getting a pass this time around when I’m letting this happen again.
“Oh god,” Mel whispers, and she shudders against me as her arms tighten around my neck.
“You okay?” I rasp against her neck.
“Don’t stop, god, please, don’t stop,” she begs, the neediness in her voice relieving my sudden anxiety.
And when she rocks more adamantly on top of me, I know she’s not in pain.
A thrill of anticipation blasts through my chest, and I tangle my fingers in her hair so I can claim her lips. She kisses me with fervor, her tongue stroking between my teeth to tangle with my own.
And as I start to thrust inside her, the slick arousal that coats my cock makes it sinfully pleasurable. Mel pants, her breaths rushing past my lips as the soft sounds of her ecstasy drive me dangerously close to release.
But I want to make her come again. I want to see the pleasure on her face when I make her come on my cock.
Rocking forward, I fall on top of Mel once more, letting her back find the mattress as I slam deep inside her. And she cries out, the sound laced with euphoria.
“Fuck, oh fuuuuck!” she groans as her walls tighten around my cock until I can feel my pulse pounding down its length.
My sexy sailor girl. No one can swear like Mel and make it sound so appealing. It’s part of that fiery, unbreakable edge to her personality. And I love it. I love knowing how resilient she is. How fiercely she fights. How little she cares about being a lady.
Her first instinct might be flight. But she’s a better fighter than any woman I’ve ever seen.
“Look at me when you come, boginya,” I command. I want to see her soul when she falls apart in my arms.
With what seems to be considerable effort, Mel obeys. And her eyes meet mine with such intensity, it takes my breath away. Their dark depths are fathomless, the desire in them a thousand degrees. And I grunt with the effort to hold on as her pussy grips me like a vise.
Mel gasps, her breasts pressing adamantly against my chest as her walls throb and pulse. Slick arousal gushes out around my length, creating a wet slapping sound that’s dangerously satisfying. I shudder, slowing as I fight to keep control of my body.
As the aftershocks of her release subsides, Mel grasps the back of my neck and brings me down so she can kiss me.
This act of drawing me in, pulling me down on top of her, is something Mel never would have done when I first met her. She was always terrified of tight spaces, restraints, and anything that felt confining.
And it makes my pulse quicken to think that she might be getting used to me. That she wants to feel my weight on top of her. She wants more of me.
I’m trying not to get ahead of myself.
But when I’m with Mel, when she’s kissing me like there’s no end to her desire, it’s damn near impossible not to.
Mel gasps as my pace quickens, her legs wrapping around my hips. And she grinds against me as we build toward climax together.
“Ya khochu napolnit’ tebya zhizn’yu.” I’m glad the words come out in Russian because they’re far too intimate for the space our relationship is in. But fuck if I don’t mean them. I want Mel to be mine so badly. I want to fill her with life and happiness—and the thought of doing so literally makes my balls tighten.
“Oh fuck I’m coming!” Mel moans against my lips, and as her pussy clenches around me, I slam inside her one last time, pouring my seed deep into her depths.
My cock throbs in time with her pulsing orgasm, her body milking every drop from me as my hips jerk with the force of my release. We pant, sharing the same oxygen as our lips continue to brush softly our foreheads pressed together.
“God, I love it when you speak in Russian,” Mel murmurs, releasing my neck to sink back into the pillows.
A low chuckle rumbles from my chest, and her walls tighten around my cock in response. Then Mel releases a breathy laugh, as if embarrassed she said it out loud.
“You like the sound of Russian?” I ask, savoring the uncharacteristic openness she’s offering me today. Maybe it’s something in the water, but I feel like this shift between us might be more permanent than I dared hope before.
To my surprise, Mel doesn’t answer right away. She thinks about it. “Maybe not all Russian,” she qualifies. “But when you speak it. yes.”
