Page 11 of Crystal Wrath
His body presses me into the mattress. One of his hands finds mine, the fingers intertwining and pinning it gently above my head. The other traces the neckline of my dress, fingertips ghosting over the swell of my breasts.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, lips trailing down my neck. “Even more so now that you’re not pretending to be someone else.”
My back arches as his teeth graze my collarbone, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me. “How do you know I’m not still pretending?”
He chuckles against my skin. “Because your body can’t lie, Elena.” His hand slides beneath the hem of my dress, fingers tracing patterns on my inner thigh. “Not to me.”
As if to prove his point, my breath hitches when his fingers move higher, finding the lace edge of my panties. My hips shift instinctively, seeking more contact.
“Tell me you want this,” he says, his voice rough with desire but his eyes serious. “I need to hear it.”
At that moment, I made a choice. Not as a journalist chasing a story, not as Elena Martinez with her moral compass and professional ethics, but as a woman drawn to a man who sets her blood on fire.
“I want this,” I whisper. “I want you.”
His smile is slow and satisfied, like that of a predator who has finally cornered its prey. But there’s genuine heat there, too, a connection that transcends the physical.
“Then let me show you what happens when you get exactly what you want.”
His lips claim mine again as his fingers slip past the barrier of lace, finding the heat at my center. I gasp into his mouth, my free hand clutching at his shoulder as pleasure courses through me.
The dress becomes an obstacle, and he deals with it efficiently, the zipper sliding down my back under his expert touch. The cool air hits my exposed skin, raising goosebumps that his mouth soothes away, trailing kisses down my body as he peels the fabric away.
My hands find his shirt buttons, fumbling in my urgency to feel his skin against mine. He helps, shrugging out of the expensive fabric with little concern for where it lands.
His chest is a marvel of sculpted muscle and scattered scars that tell stories of a life far removed from the polished businessman he presents to the world. I trace one particularly vicious mark with my fingertip, a puckered line that curves around his ribs.
“Knife fight,” he explains, watching my face. “Saint Petersburg, a long time ago.”
I don’t ask for details. Tonight isn’t about his past or mine. It’s about the present, about the heat building between us, about the way his hands make my skin burn, and my mind forgets why I should be cautious.
When he finally lowers himself onto me, skin to skin, the contact is electric. His weight is substantial but not crushing, his body hard where mine is soft. The contrast is intoxicating.
“Tell me to fuck you,” he murmurs, his control evident in the tension of his muscles and the careful way he holds himself above me.
In answer, I wrap my legs around his hips, drawing him closer, feeling the hard evidence of his desire press against me.
“I’m exactly where I want to be,” I tell him, surprised by the truth in my words.
At this moment, I’m not an investigative journalist with a story to uncover. I’m not the daughter of a Cuban immigrant with something to prove. I’m simply Elena, a woman in the arms of a dangerous man, falling into a passion that threatens to consume us both.
And for tonight, at least, I let myself burn.
4
RENAT
She’s the most beautiful, magnetic woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and right now, with her legs wrapped around me, every nerve in my body is tuned to the ache of wanting her. The need is sharp and primal, but I don’t give in just yet. I lower my head and drag my tongue slowly across her lips, savoring the softness. The moment she parts them for me I claim her mouth with mine. The kiss deepens quickly, turning urgent and electric, sparking through my chest and down my spine until nothing else exists but the feel of her and the hunger building between us.
Elena sucks on my tongue, slow and deliberate, while her hand slips between us, brushing against my cock just enough to make it jerk with anticipation. But she doesn’t take hold of it. She teases, dragging her fingers up my torso instead. When she reaches my chest and pinches my nipple, I let out a low groan. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
Balancing my weight on one arm, I slide my other hand over the curve of her breast, molding the softness beneath my palm. I roll her nipple between my fingers, giving it a gentle twist that makes her arch into me. Her moan vibrates against my mouth,low and breathy, and it shoots straight through me, making my cock throb with painful urgency.
Breaking the kiss, I hook one of her legs over my shoulder and shoot her a promising smile. My tongue finds her clit, then slides between her folds, groaning at how wet she is. I lick my way back to her clit, sucking on it hard. She gasps, tangling her fingers in my hair, pinning my mouth against her pussy. I flick her clit with the tip of my tongue, sliding my hands up her thighs, cupping her ass that seems to fit perfectly in my hands. All I want right now is to impale her hard on my cock. Her scent and taste are driving me insane, and my cock is hard as a fucking rock.
She shifts her hips beneath me, eager and restless, trying to draw my tongue deeper inside her. I give in slowly, pushing my tongue into her with deliberate strokes, alternating between swirling and thrusting, savoring the way her body responds to every motion. I can feel the tension gathering inside her, the way her breath quickens, and her thighs tremble, but I’m not ready to let her fall over that edge. Not yet.
I pull my mouth away just long enough to slip two fingers into her, driving them in hard and deep. Her body jerks, a raw moan escaping her as her walls clamp down around me. I pump into her relentlessly, my tongue returning to trace tight circles over her clit, coaxing her higher with every flick and curl, determined to push her right to the brink and keep her there.
