Page 14 of Broken Vows (Marital Privileges #4)

I’m not the only one feeding off the tension. Mikhail’s teeth graze my earlobe before his tongue soothes the sting of his bite. It is the most basic of touches, but it sends a wildfire blazing through my veins.

He teased me all the time, but I’m too worked up to remember this is meant to be a game.

I want him. Desperately.

And I’m too intoxicated by lust to act cautious.

Mikhail groans when I spin too fast for him to respond, propel myself onto my tippy-toes, and then collide our mouths together like I did anytime I was crowned the loser of our argument.

I don’t swipe my tongue across his mouth or force it between his lips as my heart is begging. My kiss is as innocent as my baby sister’s face, the sting of rejection still clinging to my skin too densely to ignore.

You wouldn’t know that from the hardness of Mikhail’s cock, though. It stretches halfway up my stomach and instigates another stint of reckless yearning.

I want to kiss him again—tongue, teeth, and lips this time—but the quickest swivel of my tongue in my mouth to wet it for our embrace announces I can’t.

Although faint, there’s still enough peanut butter lingering in my mouth to cause an anaphylactic response in someone with a severe peanut allergy.

Mercifully, Mikhail’s commentary at the end of our vows announces his mouth isn’t the only place I can kiss him, and he is as aware as I am that the worst reactions occur when the residue comes in contact with the mucous membrane, like the eyes, nose, and mouth.

His cock is safe—somewhat.

That doesn’t mean he’ll act on his desires, though.

He’s too stubborn for that.

Or should I say, he once was. I don’t know the man standing before me. We’re practically strangers—who have an insane sexual attraction that won’t adjourn for anything.

As Mikhail’s hooded gaze burns me at the stake, reading my soul with only a glance, the hand on my chin lowers to my throat to compress my windpipe ever so slightly.

He pins me to the door with a firm yet erotic grip on my throat, sending my senses haywire before he rakes his eyes up my body.

They linger at the apex of my thighs and at my breasts before they eventually land on my face. He stares at me with lusty, fiery eyes while pressing into me deeper, flattening me to the door.

While fighting the urge not to grind against him, nervous energy leaves my body, replaced with need.

I can’t look away. I don’t want to miss a single emotion in his entrancing blue eyes. His hurt. His pain. His fury. They’re displayed for me to see. But there’s also admiration, attraction, and a chemistry no amount of disdain will ever be able to disregard.

My breasts grow heavy as I return his stare, and my clit pulsates.

Mikhail is an ace at poker, so I lay my cards on the table without a word being spoken.

He feels my hurt, my betrayal. My rejection. But instead of offering sympathies for them, he acts as if I don’t deserve a single apology.

He treats me like a whore, and I’m too bound by lust to pretend I don’t love his arrogance. “Since you seem to be having a hard time understanding what being a wife means, perhaps I should remind you.”

The roots of my hair sting when the hand on my neck skates behind my head, and he makes a fist. He waits for me to protest, to knee him in the balls. When neither occurs, he uses his grip on my hair to lower me to my knees.

Everything happens so fast. I fall to my knees as Mikhail’s belt slides through his belt loops; the hiss of his unzipping pants echoes the sound I make when his cock springs free.

A gasp leaves me during the latter. I forgot how big he is. His cock is throbbing with want and way too large for me to handle with one hand.

My pupils dilate to the size of saucers as I drink him all in. The piercings, the veins, the droplet of goodness pooling at the top. I take them all in as if it is the first time I’ve seen them before I lose the fight to hold back for a second longer.

I lunge for him, desperate to taste him again.

Air whistles between Mikhail’s teeth when I track my tongue over the slit at the top of his cut penis, but that is as far as his praise goes.

He’s trying to fake disinterest like he did earlier, but he can’t fool me. The veins in his impressive manhood throb too much to misrepresent his interests, and although faint, his hips rock forward enough to pierce the head of his cock between my lips with every timed thrust.

Determined to bring him to heel and resolute to replace the disdain in his eyes with attraction, I circle my hand around the root of his girthy shaft and then jack it up and down several times in a row.

He’s heavy in my hand, and each calculated pump encourages more pre-cum to pool at the tip.

I flutter my tongue over his cut crown, moaning when my licks lure more salty goodness.

While pumping him at the base of his thick cock, I pay dedicated attention to the vein feeding his magnificent manhood. I lick his shaft from the tip to the base multiple times, bunching his thighs and coating my cheek with his manly scent when I rub it against his balls resting on his thighs.

I hear Mikhail’s back molars smash together when I draw him into my mouth with needy sucks, but other than that, he gives nothing away.

He’s cool, calm, and collected… until I peer up at him.

The instant our eyes lock, his thigh muscles twitch, and more of his delicious pre-cum swamps my taste buds.

While maintaining eye contact, I pump him harder, suck him faster, and double-fist his cock. I work him so hard and fast that you’d swear he paid for the privilege.

In a way, I guess that’s true.

I wouldn’t be here if he weren’t seeking a big payday and my mother wasn’t sick.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, I take him to the back of my throat before flattening my tongue, accepting him in further.

We fooled around like this thousands of times before I knew of Mikhail’s family’s political influences, so perhaps this isn’t solely about one thing.

Maybe other factors have contributed to our reunion.

Mikhail’s grip on my hair tightens so much that it is painful. I love the sting of his touch. It drives me wild with desire and has me giving him the performance of my life.

The more I work him, the harder he struggles to hold back his needy, desperate gasps.

In minutes, his breathing deepens to an unmissable level, and he grips my hair with deadly force.

As he returns my lusty watch, he feeds his cock in and out of my mouth, grunting and moaning with every frantic thrust.

My jaw aches, but I refuse to give in. I go wild with desire, and my confidence flourishes with every desperate moan Mikhail can’t hold back.

He’s burning up everywhere, and I’m right there with him.

My clit throbs as salty droplet after salty droplet pumps onto my tongue.

I milk him with my mouth, hand, and tongue until I’m finally granted the ultimate prize for my dedication.

A moan unlike any I’ve heard erupts from my throat when Mikhail’s hips still a second before streams of cum pump from his cock. They flood my tongue with his delicious taste and send my head into a tailspin.

As he stuffs his still-throbbing cock deep into my mouth, ensuring I don’t miss a single drop of his release, anticipation builds in my chest.

I hold so much power right now. Although I’m on my knees, sucking his cock, I’ve taken control. The odds are now in my favor. That’s how it has always been with Mikhail and me.

Excitement has already drenched my panties, but another truth wets them further.

Mikhail is at my complete mercy, which can only mean one thing.

I am mere hours from saving my family’s bar.

Well, I was.

I stupidly forget to alter my expression before realigning my eyes with Mikhail’s. He always could read me like a book. A decade-long hiatus appears to have not weakened his skills in the slightest.

“No,” I plead when he pulls back, freeing his somehow still-firm cock from my mouth with a pop.

The manic throbs of his girthy dick when he tucks it into his black boxer shorts set my blood on fire, but no number of silent pleas work.

The game is over, forfeited by the person who would have won by a mile if he didn’t have morals.

After a grumble about needing to inform Chef of his allergies, Mikhail heads for a secondary exit that I had no clue existed until now.

I assume he will leave without a backward glance, so you can picture my shock when he cranks his neck back just before he exits.

He takes in my kneeling stance and drenched panties my open trench coat can’t hide before he lifts his eyes to my face.

The pain in his hooded gaze exposes how badly he’s hurting, and I fucking hate myself for it.

This was not my intention when I allowed him to lower me to my knees. I don’t want to hurt him. I’m merely trying to protect my heart so he can’t smash it into smithereens for the second time.

Mikhail’s voice is hoarse when he says, “Once you’ve dressed, join me downstairs for something to eat.”

Despite being drenched with his cum, my throat’s rawness makes my voice come out scratchy. “I thought we were eating in our room?”

His lips twitch to hike into a smirk, but he fights it. His mouth remains as hard-lined as his words that hack my already frail heart. “We would have if I trusted you. Since I don’t, we will eat downstairs.”