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She wasn’t going to go.
Her soul lightened at the thought of not having to see Artur and Tatyana together any more. She didn’t have to go. This would be about Artur and Tatyana, who had chatted like old friends all day. They’d be perfect for the party without her supervision. But where was her phone?
Amy stood up from the sectional and spotted it on a side table across the room.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Be right there,” she called.
Amy pulled the door open to reveal none other than Artur. The grin on his face when he saw her gave her a full-body blush.
She opened the door wide. “Coming by for some last-minute PR tips?”
He laughed. “Hardly. I wanted to see if you were still getting ready.”
Amy grabbed her phone from the table and went back over to the sectional, sitting down with her legs primly crossed. “We have another hour, but since you mention it, I decided not to go.”
Artur crossed in front of her, the smile still playing across his face. “But you must. The most gorgeous woman ever to grace Stolvenia has to appear at this event. You know that.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Yes. Me, the white whale.” It was meant to be a joke, but her tone made Artur’s expression shift into something more serious.
He knelt down in front of her and ran his palms up her bare legs and under the robe. “There’s not a whale in sight. Only the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Artur, you don’t have to say that to me.” Amy had been trying to keep this embarrassing feeling at bay, but now it swept over her. “We’ve both been standing next to Tatyana all day. She’s the one who should be at the party with you.”
Artur didn’t answer. He had pushed up the robe a few inches and was staring down at Amy’s thighs, running his palms over the smooth skin. He made a low noise in the back of his throat. “You’re a masterpiece.”
She put a hand out to stop him, and he caught it midway and brought it to his lips. “You don’t have time,” she protested. “And I’m—”
“Let’s see how you are,” he said, his eyes darkening. He slipped a hand farther up under the robe. Amy’s body reacted to his touch, her nipples tightening under the fabric and heat gathering between her legs. By the time he reached all the way up her thigh, she was more than a little wet. “Oh yes.” He stroked his fingers between her legs and Amy let her head fall back on the sectional.
“You shouldn’t,” she said, not meaning it at all.
“I must.”
Artur unwrapped the robe from her body like he was opening the greatest gift of his life. She could see from the front of his pants that he was reveling in the sight of her, and it sent a burst of pride rushing through her. All the insecurity she’d felt all day melted away under the heat of his gaze.
“Let me—” His voice was thick.
She spread her legs, arching her back.
Amy had never seen a man reach for his belt as fast as Artur did in that moment. He was naked before she could count to three, climbing between her legs and lowering his face to hers. God, it felt so good to be devoured by a man with strong hands and a perfect body, with eyes like Artur’s...it felt good to be held by him, and touched by him.
Her own desire ran down the inside of her thighs as Artur positioned himself above her, pressing kisses to her shoulders, her neck, her lips. He drew her bottom lip between his teeth and she shivered. And when he pushed inside her—
She didn’t care if anyone heard the sounds she made. No. She felt like a queen, like a goddess, and Artur felt like a king moving between her legs, strong and powerful, taking her as if she was his to have forever and ever and ever...
He fit his hand between their bodies to tease at her clit, urging her on. “Come for me, you gorgeous thing, come—”
And she did. Once, then twice, and when Artur coaxed the third orgasm from her, she thought she might fly away from the surface of the earth and all the way into space. It was all she could do to hold on tight as he rode her through his own release.
It took a moment for them to come down.
Artur ran a hand through her hair. “I want a photo of you like this.”
“Like this?” She laughed. “No, I’m a mess.”
“You’re the best kind of mess with your pink cheeks, all sexed-up and satisfied.”
