Page 126 of Ruby Malice

“Then what?”

I arch my head back, staring up at the dark sky. A few stars are visible now, tiny pinpricks of light against the velvet darkness. Or it might all be in my head. Maybe Kirill is making me see stars.

“Then I want you to do it again,” I moan, grinding against his hand faster and faster. “And again. And again.”

The orgasm washes over me like a tsunami. There is no gentle build followed by a warm, relaxing wave. It’s a wall of pleasure so potent it’s almost painful.

I cry out and clench his shirt in my fist. I lose all of my self-consciousness, all of my awareness. Nothing exists beyond this sensation. Beyond seeing this feeling through to the end.

And all the while, Kirill never stops coaxing more out of me.

When I think I’m finished, he pulses into me again. He circles my clit. He curls his palm against my center and strokes me until I go boneless. Until I collapse against his chest in a spent heap, breathless.

“So much for again and again,” he laughs.

“Give me a second,” I rasp. “I think I died.”

He grips my hips and rolls me off of him into the sand. With gentle hands, Kirill pulls my jeans down my legs, and then my panties. I’m naked in the sand, all of my skin exposed to the moonlight and his touch and the teasing ocean breeze.

Kirill settles over me and then leans back to peel his shirt over his head. I drag my fingers down his defined chest and abs, reading his musculature like braille. “Someone could see us,” I warn nervously.

He laughs. “Let them watch.”

I dig my fingers into his shoulder blades, bringing him closer until we’re kissing again. Close enough that, when Kirill thrusts into me, I gasp into his mouth.

I cling to his body like it’s the only thing keeping me above water. “I like the way you feel inside of me. I like you.” There’s no part of me Kirill isn’t seeing, no part he doesn’t know. “This weekend and again tonight, I came here to see you. I wanted to see you. To be with you.”

Kirill leans back and hooks his arms under my knees. His strong fingers grip my waist and pull me hard against him, matching his own thrusts. I cry out into the night.

I reach for him, grabbing any bit of him I can find. Clutching at his biceps, his brawny forearms, anything. I don’t want to let go of him. It’s a reminder that he’s real. That no matter what happens next, this moment is real.

Kirill drops my legs and leans over me. His weight is warm and reassuring against my bare chest. He kisses across my chest and my neck, his pulses growing more purposeful.

“Come with me,” I breathe, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Come inside me.”

“Fuck, Rayne,” is all he can grit out.

My body is still buzzing from my last orgasm, but somewhere, I find the energy to do it all again. A familiar pressure grows and grows until I have no choice but to succumb to it.

“I’m coming,” I moan. “I’m—oh, fuck, I’m coming.”

Suddenly, Kirill drives home in me, cursing under his breath. “You feel so good, Rayne. It’s fucking unreal.”

We move and slide together until we have nothing left. Until Kirill kisses my forehead and my nose. When it’s finally over, he rolls off of me and we both stare up at the stars.

After a few quiet minutes, he reaches for our clothes and helps me get dressed.

I expect to feel the magic of the moment slipping away, but it doesn’t. When I’m dressed, I sit down in the sand next to Kirill and lay my head on his shoulder.

“If you treat any of your other maids like this, then I quit.”

Kirill laughs a good, loud laugh. “You can’t quit. I won’t let you.”

“Fine,” I pretend to pout. “Then I’m your slave for the next two months.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean you need to come with me. Back to New York.”

The casual ease between us snaps tight. I turn to him. “What are you saying? You want me to move to New York City… to be your maid?”

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