Page 96 of The Pucking Arrangement

“Is sound asleep.” His lips graze my ear, the heat of his breath sending a violent shudder down my spine. “And I need to remind you of something.”

My hands grip his bare chest for balance. Or maybe just to feel him.

“Wh...what’s that?”

He doesn’t answer. Not with words.

His mouth crashes into mine, claiming and all consuming. His tongue slides past my lips, deep and demanding, his kiss nothing short of punishment. My knees buckle, my body yielding instantly, but his grip on my hip is iron.

I melt into him, lost in the heat, in the raw, unchecked possession. His thigh wedges between my legs, pressing exactly where I need him, and a whimper escapes before I can stop it.

“Shhh.” His fingers fist in my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp. “Don’t wake the little one.”

His other hand moves, sliding beneath my shirt, rough palm skimming my ribs, then higher. He pushes my bra aside and rolls my nipple between his fingers, his breath ragged against my lips.

“I have a few things planned for you tonight.”

Desire detonates between my legs.

“Things?” I pant.

“Mmhmm.” He nips my bottom lip. “After dinner. After Ris is asleep.” His grip tightens, his thigh pressing deeper between mine. “I’m going to take you apart. Slowly. Thoroughly. Listen to you scream my name while you’re wrapped around my cock. Again. And again.”

My head falls back against the wall, my body no longer mine, my brain officially out of service.

His mouth trails lower, down my throat, teeth scraping, lips soothing.

“But for now,” he pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and devastating, “you should practice. Unless…”

“Unless?”

His smirk is pure sin. “Unless you want me to throw you over my shoulder right now and finish what we started. Maybe just a quickie to tie us over until tonight?”

I consider it.

I want it.

But then Ris shifts on the couch, a soft sigh escaping her, and reality comes slamming back in.

I force myself to breathe, to remember where we are.

“Practice Brahms,” I rasp. “Difficult piece. Definitely practice.”

Dmitri chuckles, low and lethal.

“Good girl.”

He steps back—just barely.

Then, like he hasn’t just ruined me for the rest of the day, he plants one last kiss on my swollen lips and murmurs against them, “Tonight? You’re mine.”

Chapter19

Turbulence

Dmitri

The team plane hums at thirty thousand feet, and I’m about one Luka post away from throwing my phone into the fucking void.

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