Page 6 of Sin in My Inbox (Sexting Spark #1)
Who did he say? Ella? I remembered—the blonde beauty who'd checked into room 302 yesterday.
"I—" My throat was dry as sandpaper, my voice shaking like crazy. "This is a misunderstanding, sir. Let me explain." I tried to put my hand up between us. He was way too close.
"A misunderstanding?" He repeated the word, his tone rising slightly with obvious mockery.
He took another step forward, his massive frame almost pressed against mine.
The overwhelming pressure made it hard to breathe.
I was forced to back up until my legs hit the soft edge of the bed. Nowhere left to run.
He leaned down slightly, those ice-blue eyes locking onto mine like a vice, so close I could see every curve of his thick lashes, could feel his warm breath tinged with tobacco brushing against my cheek.
"You're standing in my room." His voice was quiet, but every word was crystal clear, carrying the weight of an undeniable verdict.
My heart plummeted. 302 was his room?
He slowly raised the phone in his other hand, screen facing me. There it was—the photo I'd just sent him, displayed in all its mortifying glory .
"Wearing this," his fingertip traced the lace strap of my nightgown with casual, teasing possession, his gaze holding me captive like eagle talons, "sending me photos like this."
I desperately turned my head away. Fuck. The evidence was right there.
He suddenly opened his phone, showing the screen with my own message glaring back at me.
Ella: big talk... how u gonna prove it to me? ^ ^
The words on the screen made my face burn like fire.
I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.
But his long fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to look directly into those mesmerizing ice-blue eyes.
My lips trembled, but I couldn't get a single word out.
I couldn't face the wild woman I'd been just ten minutes ago. God, what the hell had I been doing?
"Is this a misunderstanding?"
His lips were less than an inch from mine—almost kissing, but not quite.
Those ice-blue eyes were like whirlpools, sucking in every bit of my consciousness.
Fear, shame, rational thought—everything crumbled under the weight of his stare.
All that was left was some primal desire that had been ignited, some instinct to be conquered by overwhelming power, some drowning need.
"Or let me ask you something else," he whispered, tilting his head to bite my earlobe gently, his sexy voice exploding in my ear. "Do you want me?"
Desire conquered my last pathetic attempt at resistance, making me abandon any thought of consequences.
Yes, I wanted him. I was fucking crazy for him. The moment he'd walked through that door, he'd already conquered me completely.
I gave the tiniest nod.
A barely visible curve appeared at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't a gentle smile—it was the satisfied look of a predator whose prey had finally fallen into his hands.
"Good girl," he murmured.
The next second, he shoved me onto the bed I'd just smoothed out, his hot lips crashing down with a take-no-prisoners intensity. My brain short-circuited. Blank.
This wasn't some soft, sweet kiss. It was raw, hungry, laced with the bitter edge of tobacco and a scent that screamed man.
His arm tightened, pinning me against his rock-hard chest, while his other hand gripped the back of my head, leaving me no room to pull away.
His breath invaded, tongue forcing past my lips, demanding everything.
A jolt of something wild and unfamiliar shot through me, turning my legs to jelly.
I fumbled, clumsy as hell, trying to keep up with the onslaught.
His calloused hands roamed my back, rough fingertips grazing my skin, sending shivers that felt like tiny electric shocks. Every touch lit up my nerves, and I was damn near gasping for air, my body melting into him as he kept exploring my limp frame.
Finally, his lips broke away, trailing lower. My shaky moans filled the air.
Hot kisses grazed my earlobe, then my neck, each one leaving a burning mark. His tongue flicked over sensitive skin, making me tremble uncontrollably. That hand on my back had slipped under the hem of my nightgown, his scorching palm pressing against the bare skin of my waist.
Shame hit me like a tidal wave, but it was drowned out by a flood of raw, unfamiliar pleasure.
He took it as a green light, his moves bolder, more aggressive. With a flick of his wrist, he undid the flimsy knot on my nightgown, peeling it open to reveal the plain cotton bra underneath. His eyes raked over me, unapologetic, possessive, locking onto my chest as it heaved with nervous breaths.
"No," I mumbled, instinctively curling in on myself, trying to cover up. My voice was barely a whisper, more like a weak invitation than a protest.
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against me. With zero effort, he brushed aside my pathetic attempt at resistance. His lips came down again, this time landing on my chest .
A sharp, electric rush hit me, like nothing I'd ever felt. Something deep inside me broke open, a warm flood rushing through me.
He kissed and held my gaze, those blue eyes blazing with raw desire, like a predator sizing up its prey. That look scared the hell out of me, but God, it pulled me in, sinking me deeper into whatever this was.
His hand, hot as fire, slid over my waist, tracing the curve of my hips.
With a quick tug, he stripped off my last layer of defense, leaving my skin bare.
His rough fingers glided down my stomach, pausing between my thighs.
They dipped in, finding that sensitive spot, and my brain shut down completely.
All I could do was feel, lost in the rhythm of his touch.
I bit my lip hard, trying to choke back the moans, but my body betrayed me, wet and aching under his fingers.
"Wet as fuck, huh?"
He held up his glistening fingertips, smirking at me. Every word hit like a sledgehammer to my chest.
"Spread your legs, baby." His voice was low, gravelly, a command wrapped in seduction. I gasped, parting my thighs, feeling his burning gaze settle between them. Embarrassed as hell, I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Name's Dmitri, babe. Scream it."
The moment his tongue touched that hidden spot, I couldn't hold back anymore. I cried out, loud and desperate.
"Oh, fuck! Dmitri!"
His tongue was relentless, exploring every inch, sending wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure crashing over me. My fingers clutched the sheets, knuckles white, my body shaking as I was pushed right to the edge and over it.
I collapsed, trembling, my mind foggy with pleasure and exhaustion. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, murmuring, "You did good, sweetheart."
Dmitri propped himself up, and in the haze of my afterglow, I watched him loosen his tie, shrug off his expensive suit jacket, and toss it carelessly to the floor.
His broad, scarred chest came into view, the marks only making him hotter.
The lines of his muscles glowed under the dim light, fucking irresistible.
Everything was driving me wild, until he slowly unbuckled his belt, his pants sliding down to reveal his already rock-hard cock.