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He is hard and ready. That much is obvious before I even get his pants off. But I want this to be mind-scrambling good.
I wrap my hand around the base of him and take him into my mouth.
“Fuck.” His groaned curse almost sounds involuntary. He tries to stifle it. But when I swirl my tongue around his head and plunge deeper, he can’t. “Holy shit…Piper…”
God, how I love hearing him say my name like that.
I twine my fingers through his and bring his hand to the back of my head. It’s my quiet way of telling him to control the depth and the pace. And he does.
With slow strokes, Timofey tenderly prepares me to take all of him. He tightens his hold on the back of my head and drags me down his length until my nose is buried in the soft hair of his stomach. Until I’m completely at his mercy. Until he’s thrusting into my throat while letting out a string of incoherent curses.
“Fuck, Piper,” he pants, pulling me off of him and throwing me down on the bed. “How am I supposed to—” He stops himself and kisses me. His tongue swirls into my mouth, teasing and tasting.
I want to know what he was going to ask, but then he is sliding into me.
I’m ready for him. So ready.
One stroke and he is as deep inside of me as he can be. He holds there for a second, savoring the sensation. Then he slides out slowly before thrusting in again.
“Like that.” I claw at his shoulder blades and hook my ankles around his lower back. “It feels so good.”
Timofey lowers his forehead to mine and looks into my eyes. Whatever distance was between us before is gone. Every wall has been demolished, every obstacle gone. “It’s fucking perfect.”
The sweetness mixed with the vulgarity feels right. I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and hold him there. He stares into my eyes as he drives into me again and again.
Finally, I can’t hold back anymore.
“I’m coming,” I cry out, bucking up to meet his movements. “I can’t stop.”
“Then don’t. Come for me.”
As soon as he gives me permission, a bone-melting orgasm rages through me. Heat pulses to my extremities. I can’t see or speak, but I hear a primal kind of mewling coming from my mouth.
Then Timofey slows. His thrusts become more purposeful, his blue eyes determined as he nears the finish line.
I stroke the back of his neck. “Inside me. Please.” My words are raspy whispers. That’s all I can manage between my gasps of pleasure.
It’s not as if it matters, anyway. He’s already claimed me inside and out. This won’t change anything.
Except, that’s a lie, isn’t it? Knowing that this is possible—that this kind of connection and passion could have been mine, if only this or that had gone a different way—will change everything.
He pumps into me with new ferocity and then groans his release. He gives me exactly what I asked for: all of him. We hold each other there, trembling and shuddering, as I feel him fill me. His hips continue to roll, working every last ounce of his release into me.
It’s a gradual comedown from the peak. His hips slow. His body grows heavier on top of mine. The sweet, carnal, beautiful weight of him.
Finally, he pulls out and rolls over so we’re both staring up at the ceiling.
The thoughts come rushing back in as soon as it’s over. Once again, I want to ask what any of this means. What’s going to happen now?
Before I can ask, Timofey speaks. “I bought tickets. You, Ashley, and Gram to go back to the United States. Tomorrow.”
My vulnerable heart stutters. “Oh. Are you coming with—”
“I have business to finish here,” he answers quickly. “You’ll go back without me.”
How long will I be without him?I want to ask.
But I think I know the answer to that, too.
