Page 65 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

“Please touch me.”

He nudges my throat with his nose. “Like this?”

A gasp breaks from my lips as he slides between my slit. I dig my nails into his shoulders as a throaty chuckle vibrates his lips.

“Monster,” I accuse weakly. “Tease.”

He nudges back into my cleavage with an eager tongue, dropping beneath my blouse to sample my nipple. My back arches instinctively and I sheath his fingers, shuddering when his thumb cups my swollen bud.

Pleasure splits me open and numbs my lips. I don’t even care how loud I’m being right now—it doesn’t matter in the wake of his affection. Rhythmic pumps part my knees wider with every plunge, arousal slicking the digits that threaten to unwind me.

Good.

Let him open me up.

Let him see exactly what he does to me.

As he slurps my nipple into his mouth, I wiggle against him, angling his fingers to hit my sweet spot. He picks up on my cue and stiffens his fingers while circling my bud with his thumb. Hot pokers prick my skin as I clutch his head. I don’t want him to break away. I don’teverwant him to stop.

Even after I come.

“I’m…” I can’t stop shaking long enough to speak. “I’m going to…”

A ravenous growl sends him south. His tongue prods my bud and lashes it, shocking me with bolts of euphoria. His fingers retain their speed as he slurps my bud into his mouth and releases it quickly. Twice more he does that, inviting my body to rise from the chair.

And each time, I love it that much more.

As he resumes his exploration of my folds, I tangle my fingers into his hair, hoping to keep him there for much longer this time. I’ve been warmer than usual lately, hungrier for his mouth to please me in every way possible.

No, I’m past the point of being hungry.

I’mstarving.

My breathing labors as his tongue pokes my bud, luring my head up from its resting position. I stare down at him with a mixture of pain and bliss, riding the edge of a wave that I know will soon crash. With my thighs clamping together and my core clenching, I can’t control when I’ll erupt. I just have to ride it out.

The moment he looks up at me is the moment I break.

Convulsions nearly shake me from the chair. Pavel persists, pressing his fingers deep inside me as I squeak between gasps for air. I’m barely down from my high when he bends my knees to my chest and shucks off his pants.

“Finally,” I gasp.

I grab his hips and bury him deep inside. His concentrated expression snaps to pure astonishment when I take all of him. Even the shudder that erupts from his girth doesn’t register more than the satisfaction of seeing him exposed.

And he’s choosing to show me. That’s what hits the most.

Slowly, surely, a smile curves his lips. He slides his fingers beneath my knees and pins my legs up. He glances at the point of connection between us, his tongue slowly roving his bottom lip as he observes the mess he made—and how it’s going to get messier.

And then he meets my gaze.

“Take off my jacket,” he instructs. “And pull down your blouse.”

His commands tickle my core as I obey him, peeling the layers away slowly to gauge his response. Once his blazer is tossed aside, I unbutton his shirt without removing it, exposing the indentions of muscle hidden beneath. I pluck my top down to expose my breasts.

His pupils blow out. “Very good,rodnaya.”

He pulls back and then returns with a sharp thrust. The squeak that bursts from me causes him to smirk. He repeats the motion, eyes never breaking away from their target while he pins me in place. It’s not until I squeal that I realize I’m coming all over again.

The sinister grin he wears is as amusing as it is alarming. My body shudders violently, threatening to buck him off the more he thrusts. It’s the slowness of it all, the set pace that hardly resembles the way he’s done it in the past. That’s what gets me about this encounter.

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