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“Yes, you can.”
His thumb circles my clit while he thrusts up into me, and I hold the headboard with both hands, shaking, trapped between the pressure of his cock inside me and his fingers working me from the outside.
The orgasm spirals through me like a tornado.
I try to breathe through it, but it is too much. “Nikolai.”
“I know.”
“It’s too much.”
“You can come, baby,” he says, licking my ear. “Come on my cock, please.”
My whole body locks around him. I bend forward with a cry, still holding the headboard, my hips jerking as the pleasure tears through me. He keeps fucking up into me, his control finally breaking for real. His hands clamp onto my hips, and he drives into me harder, rougher, chasing his own release now.
“Elara.” My name sounds dragged out of him.
He pulls me down hard on his cock and comes with a deep groan against my chest.
For a long time, we stay like that.
My forehead rests near his shoulder. My hands finally slip from the headboard. My thighs are trembling. My breasts feel swollen and sensitive from his mouth, my skin damp, my body aching in places I know I will feel tomorrow.
Nikolai’s hand moves up my back. He’s still breathing hard. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He turns his face and kisses my shoulder. “Anywhere?”
I close my eyes. “No.”
His arms tighten around me, and for a few seconds he only holds me there, still seated in the middle of the room beside the ruined bed, as if the rest of the house and every consequence waiting outside this door can wait.
I know they cannot. I know morning will come.
But his mouth brushes my shoulder again, and I let myself stay exactly where I am, warm and bare and full of him, with my body still pulsing around the memory of every place he touched me.
19
NIKOLAI
My eyes open to the grey morning light coming through the curtains, my room still quiet around us, her body warm against mine beneath the sheet. During the night, I must have pulled her back against me, because my arm is around her waist and her nipple is tight against my tongue.
I could move away.
I should probably move away.
Instead, I lift my head just enough to see her face.
She has turned slightly toward me, her eyes wide, lips parted, one hand gripping the sheet near her stomach. She looks startled, yes, but not afraid. Her breathing is too quick for fear alone, and when my hand shifts on her waist, her thighs press together under the sheet.
“Elara,” I say, my voice rough from sleep.
She swallows. “You were…”
“I know.”
Her face flushes so beautifully that I almost lose the last of my restraint. “You woke me up like that,” she says.
