Kat
Ishould stop this now.
I’m here for one specific reason, and sex isn’t it. But before I can even think, Pavel’s hands are on me, his lips tracing a slow, devastating path down my neck, causing every rational thought to vanish in an instant.
“Tell me to stop,” he says, as if sensing my inner turmoil.
I don’t. I can’t. “I… I…”
His mouth is at my collarbone, his fingers sliding over the delicate lace of my dress, teasing along the edge of the fabric like he has all the time in the world. He’s not rushing; he’s waiting. I hate that he still knows me so well. I tip my head back slightly, my breath uneven as his mouth ghosts over my skin. “Pavel…”
It’s supposed to be a warning, but it comes out like a plea, like I’m begging him for more.
Perhaps I am.
His hands slide up my sides, fingers skimming my ribs, slow and controlled. He’s holding back, giving me time to rebuff him.
“You’re shaking,” he says against my throat, his lips barely touching my skin. “Are you afraid of me?”
Yes.
But fear isn’t what’s making me tremble.
“Not afraid,” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper.
His lips curve against my skin, satisfied. “Good.”
Then his mouth descends, his tongue tracing the hollow of my throat before he bites down, just hard enough to make me gasp. My hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his suit, anchoring myself against the sheer force of him. He lifts his head, his gaze sharp, searching. “Last chance, Kat.”
I hate him for giving me a choice. I grip the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric in my fists. “Don’t stop.”
His mouth crashes into mine, no hesitation, no restraint, just raw and consuming hunger. His hands slide down my back, cupping my ass as he pulls me against him. The hard length of his erection presses against my stomach through his slacks. I whimper as he groans into my mouth.
He lifts me up and carries me through the suite, never breaking the kiss. It’s as if he owns me, like he always has. That thought should terrify me, but instead, it makes me ache.
He lowers me onto the bed, his body covering mine in an instant, pressing me into the soft mattress. The weight of him, the feel of him, the scent of him…it’s all so intoxicating. My heart begins to beat faster, and I can feel my pulse everywhere.
His lips leave mine and begin moving down my throat; his breath is warm against my skin. He brushes his nose along my jaw, nipping at my earlobe before he whispers in my ear. “I’ve been thinking about this for six years.”
I whimper again.
Fucking traitorous body.
He kisses down my chest as his hands slide up my thighs, pushing the fabric of my dress up slowly, torturously. I lift my hips, desperate for more, but he grips my thighs, holding me in place.
“So impatient,” he murmurs, his fingers teasing the edge of my lace panties. “I remember how shy you were last time.”
I feel my face flush. “Not anymore,” I manage, my voice shaky.
He grins mischievously as he looks up at me. “No?”
His fingers slide beneath the lace, teasing over the already aching bundle of nerves at my center. I arch my back, a soft cry escaping me as his thumb moves in slow, lazy circles, just enough to make me desperate. “You are the same as I remember,” he mutters. “So fucking soft. So fucking wet. So fucking perfect.”
My breath stops as he hooks his fingers under my panties, pulling them down my legs. The air is cool against my heated skin, but it’s nothing compared to the way his fingers feel trailing back up, teasing me, as he spreads my thighs open.
I gasp. My instinct is to close my legs, but he places his hand firmly on my thigh.
“No, Kat. Let me see you.”
I obey, spreading my legs for him, allowing him to take in the sight of me. A smile spreads across his lips.
“You’re so fucking sexy.”
My body stills in anticipation, my breath coming in short, uneven pants.
He begins to stroke my most sensitive spot, teasing me with his touch, causing pleasure to surge throughout my body. His fingers slide through my slickness, parting me with ease, coating himself in the evidence of my arousal. I whimper, my head tipping back.
Pavel chuckles, his fingers lightly circling my clit again, just enough to make me shake. It’s insane how he knows exactly how I need to be touched. “You’re still so fucking gorgeous,” he says. “You were made for me.”
I bite my lip as memories rush in, and a moan escapes me when his fingers slide deeper before curling just right. I cry out, my hips lifting off the mattress.
“That’s it, krasivyy, let me hear you.”
His fingers move in perfect rhythm, stroking me from the inside as his thumb presses against my clit, working me until I’m panting and writhing, no longer able to think. I clench around him, my body tightening, my moans growing more desperate.
I’m so close. I can feel it building, spiraling, tightening in my core. And then, he stops.
I whimper in frustration, my body aching for release, but Pavel only smirks, dragging his wet fingers up my stomach and over my breast before gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“You’re so fucking wet for me, Kat.”
My breath stutters as I squeeze my thighs together, desperate for friction.
“Tell me how much you want it.”
My lips part, but nothing comes out.
His fingers tighten on my chin, demanding. “Say it.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Please.”
He hums in approval, his fingers slipping between my legs again, pressing deep, finding the spot that has me gasping. “Good girl.”
Pleasure ripples through me, my back arching, my moan breaking into a cry as my pussy tightens around his fingers.
“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he mumbles, dragging his lips down my stomach, his stubble scraping my sensitive skin. His fingers skate along the inside of my thighs, deliberately avoiding where I need him most.
“I think it’s time I find out if you taste as good as you did back then.”
I let out a sharp breath, my body already trembling, already wrecked from his words alone. He spreads my legs wider, his grip firm. I know I should tell him to stop, but I don’t. “Pavel…”
He chuckles, a dark and amused sound. “I like it when you beg.”
I let out a desperate whimper as his grip tightens.
“You like the way I touch you, don’t you?” His voice is husky, his fingers dragging close, but not close enough.
I nod, my breath coming in small gasps now. He chuckles again, seemingly enjoying watching me squirm. I dig my fingers into the sheets, my hips lifting off the mattress once again. Pavel grins, his lips brushing my inner thigh before his mouth is fully on me.
His tongue slides through my slick heat, slow at first, teasing, deliberate. My hips twitch, a soft, helpless sound escaping me that I can’t bite back. He groans against me as his tongue moves with purpose, with the full intention of wrecking me beyond repair. His hands grip my thighs, strong and unyielding, keeping me exactly where he wants me.
I gasp, my fingers fisting the sheets. “Oh. My. God.”
Pavel hums against me, the vibration almost unbearable. My body bows off the bed, my thighs squeezing around his head, but he doesn’t stop, he just keeps working me, lapping at me like he can’t get enough. I’m squirming, panting, already teetering on the edge.
He groans, like he’s enjoying this as much as I am. “You taste so fucking sweet,” he mutters against me as his tongue flicks against my clit, devastating, circling, teasing. It’s too much and not enough all at once.
‘Pavel,’ I whimper, trying to grind against his mouth in order to chase the pleasure coiling tight in my belly.
“Stay still, baby.”
He sucks on my clit, hard and purposeful, and I break.
The orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, violent and unstoppable, pleasure tearing through me so fast, so intense, I can’t even think.
Pavel grins. He’s not finished. Not even close.
His fingers slide into me, curling, hitting that magical place, pushing me toward the edge again. Before I can recover, before I can even breathe, I come again, crying out his name. He moves over me and presses his lips to mine. I can taste myself on them, can feel the smug, satisfied smirk as he kisses me.
I reach down and grip his cock, pressing its tip against my slick entrance. He enters me fully with one thrust, and I gasp, my nails digging into his back. Pavel groans, his head dropping against my shoulder.
“Fuck, Kat…”
He moves slowly, stretching me, filling me like he’s claiming every part of me. My body clenches around him, still raw from the pleasure he’s already given me, and he curses again. He thrusts into me hard, then slowly pulls back, repeating the motion as his mouth traces hot, open-mouthed kisses along my throat and down my collarbone. “Still so fucking tight.”
My nails rake down his back, my body quivering beneath him.
“No one else has touched you, have they?”
I tense at the words. His head lifts, his blue eyes flashing, knowing. My heart slams against my ribs, but I can’t lie. “No,” I whisper.
His jaw twitches as something dark and primal flares in his gaze. The control he’s been holding onto so tightly snaps, and suddenly, his mouth is on mine again, hot and devouring, all-consuming possession and raw hunger.
His hands are everywhere—gripping, claiming, branding. One fists my hair, yanking my head back, baring my throat to him as his teeth scrape along my skin. The other slides down, spreading my thighs wider, pinning me exactly where he wants me.
“You take me so fucking well,” he growls against my lips, his voice nothing but gravel and sin. “Like you were made for me.”
Indeed, I was. God help me, I was made for him.
He slams into me, deep and brutal, the force of it stealing the breath from my lungs. Every thrust is harder, faster, more punishing, and it’s too much, too good, too perfect. My nails drag down his back, my hips arching up to match his rhythm. I’m desperate, ruined, so close I can practically feel myself unraveling.
The climax rips through me like lightning, my body clenching around him, my cry muffled against his shoulder as I bite down. The orgasm claims me, stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced before.
Pavel groans, a raw, guttural sound. He’s right there with me, his body tensing, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep, filling me completely, his growl of release vibrating against my skin. His weight presses into me, solid and grounding, his breath hot against my neck. The scent of sex and sweat fills the room.
I should push him away. I should reach for the vial of poison.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
Because for the first time in six years, I don’t feel empty.
