Then he slides his hand up my dress and pushes my panties aside.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ILYA
My words are half joke,half serious, all need.
Fucking Alina again is an urge writing itself into my bones. I want to mark her in all the ways as mine.
But the beating compulsion to take her rough and hard pushes at me. Her mouth is so fucking soft, sweet, and so damned sacred that I should probably turn away. Or go down on her and lick her to orgasm.
It’s no chore to do that.
Thing is, she’s made for love, for the kind of passion that undulates, not levels buildings. Not changes the universe like an exploding star. She is made to change the universe, but she’s a slow expansion, something that takes time and lasts forever.
She should be worshiped.
Not taken hard, fast, and dirty in a kitchen.
So I kiss her, explore her mouth, dance with her tongue, and taste her lip, drawing it into my mouth to play with. I love the wet heat of her mouth, how responsive she is, the way she gives and asks for more.
And when we came together last time, it was alchemy. More than the sum of its parts.
I’ve never kissed someone before and been so transported, so changed. When I finally sank into her and we joined…
Transcendental.
That’s the fucking word.
She’s a trip all her own, and I’m addicted. I’ve had great sex. I’ve never had a greater connection, though. I know Alina, and yet she’s something new, full of delight and mystery for me to uncover.
And that takes time.
“I’m glad you have a dress on,” I say, slipping my fingers along the wet slit of her cunt.
The shivers that take her are music.
Slowly, I push two fingers into her, curling them into that tight hotness, all that delicate, wet flesh that clings and stretches, that’s like nothing else on earth.
I stroke her G-spot and start to kiss my way down, letting my thumb tease the hard little nub of her clit.
Alina gasps and moans, thrusting her hips against me to give me the access I crave.
I kiss my way down to her belly. She straightens and pulls back, the movement delightfully catching my fingers in an even tighter vise.
She grabs my hair, pulling my head back up. “No.”
“No?” I frown.
Alina pushes me back, passion bright and alluring on her face, her lips swollen, her pupils dilated, her carotid artery pounding. “No.”
I step back, easing my fingers out.
There’s no way to hide the jut of my erection in my trousers. It aches, the blood there throbbing for me to get relief.
She slips off the counter to the marble tiles of the kitchen floor.
