Page 40 of The Tsar's Obsession
He didn't just randomly arrive at the open house. He was always there, just out of sight and out of reach, but he was here now, finally claiming what was his.
Me.
Kirill didn't break any of his rules. Minutes, hours—who knew how much time had passed while his hands and lips caressed my body?
Everywhere, he feasted on all of me, and I gladly and selfishly took everything. His lips between my legs, my hands in his hair, and my mind in pure euphoria. He brought me to the edge with such ease and speed that I lost count of how many times my body exploded underneath him.
As long as our bodies were connected, I didn't have to think. My mind was a mere shell—empty.
His cum pooled inside my pussy, again and again, and I eagerly took it all. He fucked me. He made love to me. He broke me, made me dysfunctional, no longer the same woman who crossed the threshold of his apartment earlier in the evening.
And after every time, he took care of me—piecing me back together.
His whispers consumed my mind.
I'm fucking addicted.
Take it all, baby.
Fuck, you're such a good girl, Mia.
Mia. Mine. Mine. You're mine, Mia.
He ran a hot towel over my entire body. He sprinkled my skin with kisses as light as a butterfly.
He fed me. Sweet berries. Cold water, hot tea. For the first time in hours, we looked at each other while our bodies were detached. And the way he looked at me scared me to the bottom of my very soul.
I would break all my fucking rules. I wouldn't have a choice. And I was petrified.
"Don't look at me like that," I threw out the half-assed request his way.
"Like what?"
"Like that. Like you're never going to let me leave this bed."
There was silence while I sipped on the ice-cold water. He’d added a lime wedge. Because he knew I liked it. Fuck.
It must have been deep in the middle of the night. The city was enveloped in obsidian colors, all the lights smudged with the pattering rain on the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was dark inside the room, it was secret, and it was cathartic.
I looked over his body, exploring every inch. “What’s this tattoo?” My voice was barely above a whisper as I lay on top of him, pointing to one design after another. Quietly, as if it was classified, he revealed the meaning of each one, his fingers ghosting on my skin.
His chest, back, and shoulders were tattooed to the last centimeter, and his left thigh had one large one. An ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail. The scales were prominent; it wrapped around his thigh, and I thought about how painful each one must have been. “And why do you have such a large scar?”
Starting just beneath his armpit and ending on his hip, the long, stitched-up wound healed a long time ago. “I got it in prison.” His words made all my hairs stand on end. “Had a…um, a disagreement with the management.”
“Why were you in prison?” I couldn’t stop the question from bursting out of me, but instead of telling me the truth, his lips found mine again, pulling me into a kiss so soft, so tender, so unforgettable.
Kirill didn't break any of his rules. He came inside me again and again. On the bed, on the couch, in the shower, on the floor, against the window. I admitted my defeat by leaving little bites on his neck and bottom lip. And one night certainly turned into anything but one time.
He was diligent, keeping all his boundaries while witnessing how I abandoned all of mine.
"Why are you so scared of this, Mia?" His tone was forgiving while his hands pressed me to him as if I would fall off a cliff otherwise.
"I don't know," I admitted quietly, not daring to open my eyes while I lay on his pillows, inhisarms, smelling likehim.
"What does this feel like?"
I paused and waited for his lips to make it to my temple. "Like sin."
