Page 98
Story: When Storms Collide
“You are so fucking perfect,” he murmured against my lips, sliding his tongue into my mouth.
I groaned in response, warmth pooling in my core as one hand held the back of my neck, his other slowly moving down my back. When he reached the hem of my shirt, he slipped his hand underneath, splaying his warm palm against my back.
I leaned into him, tasting him back and nipping at his bottom lip. I pulled back, a slow bead of blood forming where I had bitten him.
“You know I love that,” he said, his gaze filled with longing as his tongue shot out to lick the blood off. “So, so, wicked.”
His hands gripped the hem of my T-shirt and pulled it up over my head, our bodies pressing together once more. My fingers found the hem of his and we pulled away from each other only long enough for me to slip it over his head.
My lips found his chest, and I tasted his skin there, kissing each tattoo across his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his arms. I wanted to taste all of him. He did the same to me. It was like we couldn’t get enough of each other.
I wanted him to fill every void in me, every crack and every break filled with his love. Repaired by each kiss he placed against my skin. Donika hadn’t broken me, not entirely, but there were fractures. Places where I had let her inside, fissures that were small but deadly.
Every time Nik’s lips tasted my skin they closed, one by one, as if when he was finished, I would be whole once more. When he burned, I burned. When I hurt, he hurt. We were one and the same now, two pieces of the same whole.
We were bound.
I pushed him down against the silk sheets of the bed, and he smiled up at me. I leaned over him, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down his muscular legs, stopping to remove his shoes, too. I didn’t want anything between us at all. I wanted to come together as one.
His length strained against his briefs as he propped his hand behind his head, the picture of relaxation. I moved to crawl on top of him, but he held out his other hand, gesturing for me to wait.
“I want to see you.”
He wanted to devour me with his eyes. Every inch of me. When he looked at me like that, lust and love filling his gaze, who was I to deny him?
I slowly unbuttoned my pants, my gaze holding his. As I slid them down my legs, he never broke eye contact. When I pushed my panties down my legs and stepped out of them, his eyes were still on mine. His gaze finally broke as I reached behind me and unclasped my bra, my breasts popping free.
He watched me hungrily, his gaze studying every inch of me. He memorized the way my hair fell back behind my shoulders. My collarbone—my peaked, perfectly pink nipples. The freckles on my arms. The muscles on my abdomen. All the way down to my toes.
“Have you had your fill?” I asked, raising a brow at him.
When I had first been bare before him, I had been so nervous, so self-conscious. Now… I felt none of that. He gazed at me as if I were a goddess. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“Never.” His voice was raw, unbridled lust.
His gaze darkened as I climbed over him, straddling him. I could feel his cock straining beneath his briefs, pressing hard against my thigh. I was already so wet for him. I had never thought I could want someone this much in my life. I didn’t justwanthim… I needed him.
He slipped a hand between my legs as I bent down to kiss him. I groaned against him as I rubbed against his hand, right where I wanted him. He slipped a finger inside of me and I threw my head back, a soft cry escaping my lips.
“So, so wet. That’s my good girl.” His voice was a whisper against my skin as I rode his fingers, the feeling of him inside of me so good, but not enough.
I wanted to feel all of him, all night long.
He flipped us over, his fingers never leaving me as he pressed down over me. He used his thumb to work my most sensitive place while he pumped his fingers in and out of me. When he removed his fingers, he licked them slowly, one by one, tasting me.
“Nikolai—” His name was a moan on my lips as I pushed at his briefs with my legs around his hips.
He laughed against me as I slipped my hand inside of them, grasping him. I would never get over the feel of him. The size of him. He was so hard against me and I pumped his length, his lips parting and his eyes closing. I pushed his briefs downhis legs using my own and he kicked them off, leaving nothing between us now.
I placed him at my entrance and he needed no coaxing. He plunged into me and I arched my back off the bed, crying out at the sensation of him filling me so fully. He pulled back slowly, until only the tip was inside of me, then pushed back again all the way to the hilt. He filled me up so deliciously, as if I was made just for him.
He pumped in and out of me roughly and I held on, my legs clasped around his back, my hands on his shoulders. My head fell back with a cry when he hit that spot, the spot only he knew how to find. I hadn’t even been able to on those nights when he was gone and I had found my hand between my own legs late at night, thinking of him.
“Fuck, Diana—” He watched me beneath him, writhing in pleasure.
“Harder,” I whispered against his shoulder, my eyes falling closed.
My wish was his command.
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