Page 55 of Gilded in Blood

I shatter around him with a scream, my second orgasm crashing through me even harder than the first. My walls clamp down on him rhythmically as pleasure whites out my vision.

He lets out with a harsh groan coming hard inside me, and for a long moment, neither of us moves.

We’re both panting, sweaty, trembling.

He lowers his forehead to the back of my neck, his breathing ragged as he lingers there, holding me close.

“Mine,” he murmurs against my ear, the word barely more than a rough whisper as his lips brush the sensitive skin just below it.

Kirill

I walk into the kitchen and stop short.

Milana is bent over in front of the open refrigerator, reaching for something on the lower shelf.

Her perfect ass is pushed out toward me, barely covered by a pair of tiny jean shorts that have ridden up high enough to show the soft underside of her cheeks. The sight hits me like a drug, straight to the veins.

Since that first night I took her, I’ve been completely addicted.

Last night in the gym I fucked her against the mirror like an animal. Then I carried her to her bed and took her again, slower, deeper.

This morning I snuck back into her bedroom and woke her up with my face between her thighs and fucked her until she was crying for more.

I know this is reckless. Stupid as hell. Dangerous for both of us. But I can’t seem to stop.

And she’s not helping. The way she looks at me, the way she melts for me, the way she begs… it’s like she’s made for me.

I move quietly behind her and bring my hand down in a firm, possessive smack on her ass.

She startles, straightening up with a small gasp and turning to face me. The look in her eyes, surprised but unmistakably aroused, makes my cock twitch.

“What are you doing?”

She bites her lip, cheeks flushed. “We’re running out of groceries. I was just making a list of what we need.”

I step closer, crowding her against the counter, my hand still resting on the curve of her ass where I spanked her.

“You shouldn’t bend over like that unless you want me to fuck you right here on the kitchen floor.”

Her breath catches. That little reaction, the way her pupils dilate, tells me she wants that.

I’m playing a dangerous game. She almost went down to the basement yesterday. She said I look like a Kirill.

I still don’t know how she came about that, but I’ve been turning it over in my head for hours. I’ve been careful. I never stay the full night in her bed, so I know I didn’t talk in my sleep. So how the hell did she hear that name?

For now, I’m choosing deniability. If I ask her directly, it might confirm whatever suspicions she has. Better to stay quiet and watch.

I squeeze her ass once more before letting go and stepping back.

“Make the list,” I tell her. “I’ll go shopping later.”

She reaches behind her on the counter and hands me a neatly written list. “Here. I already made a list of everything we need.”

I take the paper from her, my brow furrowing as I scan the list.

“What the hell is ‘balsamic glaze’? And ‘cold pressed extra virgin olive oil’? Why do we need so many words for olive oil? ‘Chanterelles’?” I look up at her, genuinely confused. “I thought you said groceries.”

She blinks at me. “Those are groceries.”