Page 15 of Demitri

“But you might have to,” I whisper.

“If this shit starts to go sideways, yeah, I’ll have to walk away. For a while, anyway.”

“Like last time.”

“Just like last time. I came back, came back toyou. As soon as I knew it was safe.” He takes a deep breath and continues. “I couldn’t stay away.”

“Demitri,” I breathe out his name. It’s a prayer, a request.

“We aren’t getting out of bed today, are we?” He kisses my shoulder, his finger running along my jawline.

“Not until we have to,” I confirm.

“Good.”

I close my eyes as he continues to explore my body. His fingers, rough and worn with hard work, still feel like silk gliding over my skin. I let them wander until I can’t take it anymore.

“Dem, I…I can’t.” I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing I’m hurting him, too.

“I know,Krasotka. Thank you for allowing me what you did.”

I roll over, facing him. “Why?”

That question. So many whys to ask. Why does he let me treat him this way? Why does he keep coming back? Why does he put up with me and my…hangups? Why does he look at me like I’m the only woman in the world? Why does he make me feel like maybe one day everything will be alright?

“Wrong question,” he replies. No anger or disappointment in his voice. “Maybe you should be asking why we still have so many clothes on.”

I huff out a laugh and shake my head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I have ideas. Should I assume the position?”

And what does that say about me that he asks that knowing there is only one position? Without a single word, Demitri rolls onto his back, shimmies his pajama pants off, and sits up enough to remove his shirt. He’s gloriously naked in front of me. I unconsciously lick my lips before leaning over and kissing his chest right over his heart.

“Thank you,” I whisper. It’s a phrase of gratitude and praise all in one.

I stand from the bed, remove my shirt, and slide my panties down my legs. I hear his intake of breath, but I can’t look at him when I’m naked. I know what he sees, what I try to hide, and while he’s never said anything, I know he knows. I’m damaged. Broken. That I have scars on the inside and outside. Forever touched by evil.

“Come here,” he rasps. “Are you good?”

I nod and walk to the edge of the bed on his side. “I’m ready.”

Without asking, he raises his arms over his head and grabs the headboard. He gives me an expectant look, silently asking where the ties are. I shake my head.

“Not this time. Just…”

“I’ll keep my hands right here, Mia. I promise.”

Stretched out on the bed, hands above his head, creating his own restraint, willingly giving me control over everything is what turns me on. It’s the only thing that turns me on. Without it, I can’t have sex. Demitri knows this, yet he keeps coming back. Again, why?

“Are you ready?” I ask, crawling onto the bed and straddling his thighs. His cock stands hard, twitching, like it’s trying to reach for me.

“Yes.”

I motion to the bedside table and Demitri reaches into the drawer, pulling out a small bottle. Opening the lid, he drops some of the lube on his cock, fisting it and pumping twice. He smirks at me, raising a brow. “Need to make sure.”

The unspoken words are because he can’t make sure I’m primed and ready for himself.

I nod, giving him that one, and raise up on my knees. His fist grips himself, nudging the head at my entrance, and I slide down, the brush of his hand on my pussy almost making me pull back, but I resist. Iwanthim to touch me. But I can’tlethim. I feel everything too much. He feels so good until it’s more than I can handle.

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