Page 140 of Mission Shift

By the time he was back on his feet, he had me trembling.

He kissed the center of my spine, then wrapped one arm around my hips, guiding me farther from the vanity. His other hand pushed my shoulders forward.

He moved my hands one at a time and placed them on the edge of the counter.

“Eyes up,” he said, catching mine in the mirror and giving me that smile again—half playful, half dark promise.

He kissed my shoulder, then my neck, and his hand drifted slowly down my ribs, across my hip, and over my stomach, until it slipped between my legs. I bit my lip to stifle a moan when he slid his fingers over my folds.

“You’re drenched,” he growled, dragging his mouth across the skin of my shoulder. “As desperate for me as I am for you.”

Then he pressed two fingers deep inside me. The sensation of them sliding within me made my knees buckle. I gripped the edge of the counter for support, my head falling back as he pumped his fingers slowly in and out.

“So tight,” he said behind me, his breath hot against my skin.

He pulled them out and brought them to his lips, sucking my juices from his fingers as he met my gaze.

“Damn, Daria,” he said with a groan. “You taste like heaven.”

Braxton reached up to glide his hands down the curves of my sides, over my hips, and then finally back to the place where I ached for him most, tracing circles over my clit with one hand. His touch was both confident and tender, making my every nerve ending come alive.

Then he was inside me again, sinking two fingers into me, pumping rapidly in and out.

Both of his hands worked between my thighs, coaxing and controlling at the same time. His fingers curled just right, brushing against that sensitive spot. I could feel the fire of his touch from my core to my toes.

He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t chasing anything; he was playing with me, patient and focused, reading every twitch of my body, taking note of every gasp of my lips. No one had ever touched me like this. Not with this kind of attention. Not with this kind of care.

“Braxton—” I moaned as my hips rocked into his hand. It was all I could manage.

His mouth curved into a smile against my shoulder. “That’s right. Let me hear you.”

My eyelids grew heavy with lust, but when they fell shut, Braxton would not allow it. “Look at yourself,” he demanded. “Don’t shut me out. Watch how you fall apart in my arms.”

I struggled to keep my eyes open, but the sight of us in the mirror was intoxicating. The way his fingers worked me, the way he held me against him—it was all so erotic. I drew closer and closer to my climax, feeling the pressure build with every stroke of his fingers.

He playfully bit my shoulder, and I reached back with one arm, twining my fingers in his hair. This caused me to arch further into his strokes. My body sought more of his touch. My mind was falling to pieces as fast as my body was.

Braxton’s eyes met mine in the mirror, and he brought his mouth close to my ear. “Come on my fingers, Daria,” he commanded. “I want to feel your walls clench around me. I want to see your beautiful body fall apart.”

And then—I did.

I shattered into the most mind-blowing orgasm I’d ever had, my walls convulsing around his fingers. I cried out. My legs trembled as he kept his fingers moving, coaxing wave after wave from me until I could barely stand. My eyes squeezed shut while the orgasm continued to rip through me, but I heard his voice again.

“Eyes on me, Daria. I want you to see how perfect you are like this.”

I opened them, blinking through the haze, meeting his gaze in the mirror. I was still pulsing around his fingers, my body trying to catch up to the intensity he’d pulled from it.

When he finally slowed, easing me back down to earth, he leaned in and kissed the curve of my neck, murmuring low and proud, “There she is. That’s my lovely wife. Such a good girl.”

Those words—those words didn’t make me bristle.

They made me melt.

That one word—wife—hit harder than anything else he’d said. Not because of the legal document Nikolai had forged. Not because it was real. But because of the way he’d said it. Like it meant something to him. LikeImeant something to him.

The tears came without warning. God, I never cried!

I turned around fast and buried my face in his chest, locking my arms around his neck as I sobbed. The intensity of the moment overwhelmed me. His endearment, the unbelievable orgasm, and the praise he was showering on me were all too much.

---