Page 28

I stood barefoot on the cold tile floor, leaning against the counter, fingers wrapped around a steaming mug I hadn’t even taken a sip from yet. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and I was about to drink from my mug until I felt the warmth behind me.

He didn’t make a sound. Just appeared, smelling like soap and musk.

His presence enveloped me, and before I could turn, I felt his strong arms snake around my waist. I paused, breath caught between my ribs as his chest pressed against my back, the heat of him seeping into me and chasing away the evening chill.

“What newlywed wife spends her honeymoon night in the kitchen, drinking coffee?” he whispered, voice like gravel wrapped in silk, brushing my ear.

A flutter erupted in my chest, and a shiver rippled down my spine.

“I….” I cleared my throat, trying to find my voice, which was buried under the heat of the moment. “I needed space to think. Thinking helps me.”

“You’re mine now, Elena Yezhov. The only space you take from me is the one I give to you. Does that make sense?”

I shook my head, and his rough chuckle on my skin forced a rise of goosebumps.

His firm lips grazed the curve of my neck, and I leaned back against him without meaning to. It was instinct. Or maybe a growing addiction to the scent of him, which wrapped itself around me more than his arms ever could.

His hands slid lower, exploring, touching, like my body had always belonged to him. And in the haze of the moment, I thought, maybe it did. Maybe it always had.

Then, his fingers slipped beneath the hem of my nightdress, that sheer scrap of lace I’d thrown on only hours ago intentionally to arouse him.

So, in truth, maybe I actually anticipated this moment. Maybe I wanted it a little too much.

He stilled.

And I felt the breath he sucked in—the way his fingers flexed against my hips and dug into my bare thighs. I stifled a moan, feigning ignorance.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice dropped lower, dark and laced with something primal. “You’re not wearing anything underneath.”

“Isn’t that what all newlywed wives do? Stay naked underneath?”

He pressed his hot mouth on the back of my neck. And I could have moved away, but I didn’t.

I let my head fall back against his shoulder as one of his hands traced the curve of my thigh, the other drawing lazy, possessive circles on my stomach.

The mug in my hand trembled. I barely managed to set it down before it slipped.

“I wouldn’t know. But I know you did this because you knew I’d come.”

I breathed. I wasn’t going to admit it.

“What if I don’t want you, and it’s all in your head?”

He laughed, and the rich, melodious sound genuinely surprised me. “You think I’m going to force you to fuck me?”

“Won’t you?”

“Elena, that’s rape,” he said more seriously, and I might have imagined the hint of offence in his voice. “I won’t do that. But I will make you want me.”

His hands moved with purpose now, slow but steady, lifting the hem of my nightdress higher, inch by inch.

He took his time. The fabric slid up my thighs, and every inch of exposed skin burned under his touch.

My breath quickened, shallow and uneven, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the chill in the air or the heat pooling deep within me.

The nightdress gathered at my waist, caught in his fists, and I gasped as the cool air and his hot hands met my bare ass.

He squeezed them, spanked them, and muttered a bunch of Russian gibberish while his voice went from smooth to hoarse. Roughly, he pressed himself against me, the strain of his erection poking against my butt, and I arched into him, unconsciously reaching out to feel more of his heat.

Then, he twisted, his hand at my waist anchoring me to him, and his mouth found mine before I could even think.

And just like that, the world stopped. Images of Katya, Nana, Jaz, and my mother faded, and all that was left was the sea of blue eyes and the taste of wine on Damien’s tongue.

I bent my neck and closed my eyes, moaning shamelessly into his mouth. I wanted this man more than I should have.

Lifting one hand, I cradled his left cheek and let my palm stroke his jaw. He seemed to like it, if his groans were any confirmation.

His lips were demanding, so full of hunger and heat, like kissing me was the only way he knew to express himself.

I braced one hand against the counter and moved the other, reaching back from his sharp jawline to tangle in his hair. He deepened the kiss, tilting my head with a gentle pressure, and I let him take everything— my breath, my resistance, the space between us.

Then, he pulled away so suddenly that my feet swayed from the impact.

“Why—”

He roughly tugged on my nightdress, lifting it higher above my head. When the fabric rose above my breasts, panic filled my chest. “What if someone walks in on us?”

“Then let them,” he rasped.

Shit. That was risky. But it was the hottest risk I was willing to take.

The nightdress fell off my head and to the ground, and he turned me around with just one yank off his arm, so I faced him.

He cupped one of my breasts and fondled it before squeezing, and a warmth flooded my pussy at his half-lidded gaze. “Beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmured, almost drooling.

I licked my lips, and my nipples tightened under the heat of lust in his gaze, feeling more daring to lift my hand to his neck and lower my lips.

“You’re rather bold tonight,” he groaned into my mouth, and I shivered.

“We might as well just get it over with,” I said, half-heartedly.

“Sure.” He cupped my ass again, then moved his hands around to cup my pussy.

His fingers slipped between my folds, working their way to my clit as I spread my legs wider to accommodate him.

He swallowed my noises, and our tongues battled as he pressed in deeper, taking the air from my lungs. We shared our breaths, pausing briefly when our lips barely touched, before diving in again and losing control.

His kiss deepened until I wasn’t sure where he ended and I began. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, needing more, needing him .

When I tugged at the hem, he stilled just long enough to pull away and look at me, eyes dark with something raw and wild. I didn’t have to ask.

I lifted his shirt slowly, my hands brushing the taut planes of his stomach, and my breath caught as his tattooed skin met the cool air.

He let me strip him bare, piece by piece, and there was something electric in the way he let me unmake him.

Without a word, I reached for his waistband, and he just watched.

That alone made my heart slam against my ribs. I hooked my fingers into the band of his pants, dragging them down with deliberate slowness, my knuckles grazing his skin as the stretchy material gave way.

The tension between us was a live wire, sparking in the air, making it hard to breathe.

The moment I pushed his briefs down, he let out a quiet, ragged breath. And gosh, that sound made me feel like I held lightning in my hands.

He stepped out of the pile of clothing at his feet, and for a long moment, neither of us moved. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight, and his eyes never left mine.

And I took my chance. I reached for the length of his beautiful cock, wrapped my hand around it, and tugged gently.

His eyes fluttered as he groaned.

“You like that, don’t you?”

I breathed, “Yeah.” Because I did.

He flicked his tongue against my lips. “Mm. Do it again. And play with it longer.”

I felt the heat between us pulse—hot, slow, dizzying. Like gravity was bending just to press our bodies back together.

I made my grip firmer, flicked my thumb over the precum on his tip, and pushed my fist up and down his length.

He sucked my mouth and kissed my hair. “Elena,” he murmured, voice like smoldering coals, “do you know what you’re doing to me?”

I did.

Because I was burning too.

“Go on, continue. Slower.” I obeyed, working his shaft and fondling his balls, which hung heavy with need, while my body burned from his hums of satisfaction. “Good girl. Fuck. Yes.”

He moved against my hand, pumping through my fist, while he grew harder and harder.

My pussy grew slick with urgent need, and I wasn’t sure how long I could last without satiating myself. Before I took matters into my hands, he pulled out of my grip, kissing me with a lazy smile.

“We keep up with that, and I’d come in your hands.” He pulled me closer. “That is not the plan for tonight. I have every intention of filling up that pussy of yours.”

Good, because I could burst any minute now.

The muscles in his chest flexed beneath my fingers, but he didn’t rush me. His gaze stayed locked on mine, burning into me, setting every nerve alight.

And when I leaned in, pressing my mouth to the center of his chest, he exhaled sharply, like he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until that second.

“Christ, Elena,” he whispered, his voice rough and reverent all at once.

Then, without warning, his arms scooped me up. I gasped, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried me to the counter. My back met the cool stone, but it was his heat that consumed me, grounding me, lighting me up from the inside out.

His hands moved over me as though he was memorizing every inch, committing the feel of me to memory, like I might vanish if he didn’t.

And the way he looked at me, there on that counter, naked and trembling under his touch, made me feel like I was something holy. Like I was a storm he’d waited years to be caught in.

Our mouths met again, no longer soft, but desperate.

Hungry.

I clung to him as his hard cock poked my pussy, my body arching into his, needing the weight of him, the realness.

I moved, creating friction between his cock and my clit. The contact threatened to drive me insane, but I wanted more. I bucked my hips, rolled my waist, and whined when he wouldn’t give me what I wanted.

“Damien, please….”

“Please, what?”

He was enjoying watching me move my hips, begging for contact.

“Please, I want you inside me.” I forced a kiss on his lips. “Fuck me, Damien.”

The heat between us wasn’t a slow burn anymore. It was fire, wild and devouring.

“You really are a secret slut, aren’t you?”

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re my slut, sweetheart. Just mine.”

He chose the moment to piston his cock into me, and when he finally moved, when he brought our bodies together, I forgot the insult I’d cooked up on my tongue.

I didn’t protest when Damien bit down on my shoulder or took one of my breasts into his mouth while he pummeled me roughly into the counter.

I didn’t flinch when my sultry moans echoed loudly off the kitchen walls, and he didn’t make a move to stop me from being too loud, or do anything when one of his men accidentally stumbled into the kitchen, eyes growing wide at the sight of his naked boss fucking his wife on the kitchen counter.

It made me hotter, made me moan louder, and made me wish there were other ways I could give myself to him.

My nails dug into his shoulder, and my hips moved too fluidly, accepting all of him, so much that I began to feel like his slut.

His cock pistoned in and out, in and out, and I threw my head back, screaming out his name as a tidal wave of pleasure washed over me.

It was my first orgasm, right before Damien released white-hot ropes of cum that shot into me and dripped out from my pussy.

I knew we weren’t going to last very long.

He moaned, his hips pumping a few more times before he slumped against me, breathing hard. How he was still holding me up after all that, I had no idea.

I was exhausted, but neither of us tried to move away. He just continued to hold me and buried his face in the crook of my neck.

“I could fuck you all night, Elena,” he said.

And before I could stop myself, the first words I thought about rolled out of my mouth. “Why don’t you?”

His head snapped up, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I thought you wanted to get it over with?”

I found the strength to slide down from the counter, but I was still trapped between his chest. My nipples ached, the spot between my legs felt sore but tingled from excitement, and my body stung from all the bite marks.

This night hadn’t gone exactly as I planned, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for it to end soon.

Throwing my head back, I held his gaze.

“You don’t see me walking away now, do you?”