Page 71 of Scarlet Sins

We’ve been in bed twice today. He kissed me awake, slowly fucking me and then against the wall in the shower as the hot rain of water came down.

He made breakfast. I could only deal with tea and dry toast, and when my stomach settled, he picked me up and took me back here, stripping off my clothes once more and tumbling me into his specialty of eating me out to multiple orgasms.

The man’s relentless, talented, and mine.

For now, he’s mine. I don’t know what’s going to truly happen with the woman who caused him to turn his phone off in the early hours, but I do believe him when he says he’ll never touch her. He doesn’t ever want to.

But I don’t want to think about that. I want to, if I have to think, think about this, me and him, together.

Right now, I don’t want to think at all. I lean farther down, kissing his chest, my tongue tasting him, that clean showered taste like water dipped in the salt of light sweat from our lovemaking.

He releases my hair, his pale-blue eyes glittering as he watches me make my way down him until I shimmy down to his mid-thighs and his cock as it stands thick, tall, and pearled at the tip with precum, just for me.

I lick his shaft, wrapping a hand around it, lick from the base to the tip, taking my time, tracing the veins that throb, loving the jerk of his cock. I slip my tongue around the underside of the head and then up, over that hot, delicate skin, softness over steel, and I suck down that precum.

Demyan mutters something in Russian. It sounds guttural, dirty, hot. I then open my mouth and work my hand along the shaft as I suck him in deep.

“Oh, fuck yes, you dirty, filthy little cocksucking goddess,”he says in English, before switching to more dirty-sounding Russian.

I start to take him deeper, sucking and licking, bobbing my head, and as he pushes up into me, he pulls my hand from him and begins to work my head down on him so he’s going deep, so deep it makes tears spring to my eyes and I gag.

“Da… yes… so fucking good.”

I let him. I love it when he takes control, when he dictates what he wants and needs. And soon he’s working me hard, harder than I can push myself and he’s hitting my throat. I don’t even know how he fits and I want more of him. I suck harder, lick as much as I can, my mouth filled with drool that leaks out, letting him move me faster.

Then I reach up and take his balls in my hand, massaging, working them. He’s losing control, his Russian harder, more guttural, his hips pistoning up, his hand pushing me down until I’m at the base and can’t breathe. And his balls go tight.

I feel it.

The rush of cum, from his balls and up into my throat and his cock jerks in my mouth as he orgasms, and among all the words he uses is my name. “Erin!”

When he lets me up, I gasp for breath, wiping my face. He pulls me into his arms and kisses me hard and long and deep until I’m gasping for a completely different reason.

Then the kisses change to long and slow, an exploration of more of me than my mouth. We’re at each other, lost, each kiss dragging us down into a world of our own; they’re just kisses because we can’t get enough, kisses because we want them, we need them.

I’m caught up in him, his air is mine, the heat of his body part of me, and the kisses morph long and deep and soul-wrenching, only to slide back into soft and small sips.

I lose track of time and when his hard cock is at my thigh, it’s nothing at all to roll with him to my back and pull him ontop, guiding him to my pussy. He thrusts in and we lose ourselves all over again.

When we come, I lie in his arms, my limbs without bone, my mind floating on a cloud of contentment, his heart beat a lifeline and comfort, all rolled into one.

“I’m glad I’m so brilliant I thought of this.”

“I’m glad I’m so brilliant I decided to come along,” I say.

He laughs, kissing my forehead, his fingers stroking softly and tenderly on my cheek. “You’re my world, Erin,” he says. “You, Sasha, our new baby. You’re everything.”

“Right back at you,” I whisper, my eyelids heavy as exhaustion tugs at me.

This weekend is his way to get us back on track, to rekindle our relationship to where it was before it all went to hell with Sasha being taken and then me. And I feel it, the love, the need, the way we just fit.

I’m not sure how real it all is, as we’re not part of the real world right now. And that’s okay. We need to be away from it to assess, reload, fill the coffers.

To focus on each other.

I think I drift off because Demyan’s standing above me suddenly and the space next to me is cool. He has his phone in his hand, looking at the screen. My heart plummets, but he sits and shows me.

Alina sent a video of Sasha playing, and Kara’s there, too. My boy’s having the time of his life. “I called Kara because he asked about her, and I like her.”

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