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“I’m right here, baby.” My hand hovers over her face, then her breast. The urge to touch her is overwhelming. But I resist.
For now.
She turns her head to the side and my God, I could kiss her so easily. Right here, right now, without moving an inch.
But part of me still holds back. Part of me demands to maintain control.
I don’t know what’s happening in her dreams, but her fingers are going to town inside her panties. If it’s working in my favor, she’s dreaming about me taking her in every possible position until her toes curl and all she can think about is how fucking incredible it feels. How incredible I feel, around her and inside her.
The devil knows I dream about how she feels almost every night.
Her brow furrows deeper, and her whimpers pitch into frustrated whines. I could make it all better for her—better than better—but still, I hold back and croak hollow praise into the night.
“Come for me, moya plamya. Let it all out…”
I reach down and press my hand over hers. Instead of waking up or even stopping, she bucks up into the resistance and grinds against her own hand without any hesitation or hint of knowing. Can she feel me? Can she feel me hold her in place as she tumbles over the edge?
Daphne’s body shudders from head to toe, the waves of her orgasm rolling through her. Two of her fingers thrust inside her slit and work herself through new heights while her torso turns and she all but bites the pillow.
I’m ready to burst myself. The way her breasts strain against the fabric of her nightie, her hardened nipples begging for attention… The way her lips pucker and tremble the needier she gets, and the way her breathing staggers as she reaches the edge of release…
Most of all, the way she breathes my name in a plea for more.
That’s what brings me right to the edge.
I won’t tell her I was here. Just like she won’t tell me she was in the bathroom, watching me stroke myself as I daydreamed about her. But we may need to have a different sort of conversation eventually, if her dreams are any echo of her reality.
I slowly ease her limp hand from her slit and lift it to my mouth.
She tastes so fucking sweet. I can’t get enough; I have to suck each finger clean just to make sure nothing goes to waste.
We may have been keeping each other at arm’s length, and we might continue this dance in the morning. But the fact that we’re both hiding the same secret from each other confirms what the sickest parts of my brain have been hoping.
That this story isn’t over yet.
My erection is raging inside my sweatpants. Fucking hell, what I’d give to be able to relieve this between her creamy thighs and hear her moan for me while she’s wide awake and willing.
But instead, I silently make my way to the bathroom and wait until the door is closed to turn the light on. I can still taste her on my tongue; can still feel my body clenched up and ready to uncoil the very fucking second I allow myself to.
I have no idea how I’ll approach her in the morning.
For now, though? For now, I’ll come as hard as I’ve ever come before, then fall into a deep and dreamless sleep, with the sound of Daphne moaning my name still echoing in my ears.
27
PASHA
One would think I’d be in a far better mood.
I should be. Daphne blushed hard when she saw me at breakfast. As if she knew that I knew, though there’s no way in hell that could be true. She doesn’t have to worry; her secret’s safe with me. For now.
What’s killed my good mood is the fact that Senator Brennan is now blatantly ignoring my calls, texts, emails from my corporate office, everything. As if he has any grounds to dodge me, the same man who can blow up his marriage and his career at the snap of my fingers.
“I’ll be out most of the day,” I warn Daphne as I pack up to leave. “Call me if you need anything.”
I try my best to ignore the way her face falls as I tug my coat on and grab my keys. What more does she want? I have shit to do. Lives to fucking ruin.
But fuck me, I can’t leave. I get to the front door and find myself unable to leave the penthouse with this nagging feeling that I’ve somehow disappointed the mother of my unborn child.
