[ sometimes it feels like this is all she has of him for herself, those secret pieces she doesn't have to share. there are days where nikolai lantsov belongs to a world ripe with privilege and power that poisons even the purest of hearts, more than he has ever belonged with or to her — but this belongs to no one but them. those fingers tangled around the golden threads of his hair tug, urging him to tip his head back, so that she can devour what's hers and hers alone before he disappears back into his world.
he's always beautiful, but especially like this — undone by her and painted in a flush he would deny if she were to bring it to his attention. her fingers map it first before her tongue follows, dipping her head to drag it hotly over the line of his throat, sucking his pulse point into her mouth. to make it impossible to forget her the next time he vanishes into their cabin with his phone pressed to his ear, just as the imprint of his fingers form a band around her thigh. something to trace over while they're apart, that rekindles the wanting ache between her thighs.
i've missed you, she wants to say, an unbidden confession that begs to leap from her throat. it's only been a handful of hours, but his schemes and her refusal to so much as breathe aleksander's name in his presence have nearly trapped them in different worlds. she blows a breath over his damp skin as she charts a path over his cheek, his chin, back to a mouth she's kissed into ripeness — and licks into his mouth to distract herself from the urge.
she can still taste him on her tongue, addictingly sweet, when she breaks away from his lips. ]
Is it what, Nik? [ aleksander never could grasp the concept of mercy. the vital trait that sets them apart. what she clings to, when the lines blur and the woman in the mirror peering back at her in the mirror seems like more of a stranger than a familiar friend. teasing nikolai now is far from merciful, but his reactions to her spur her onward with a smile that looks entirely too proud of herself for rendering him speechless.
never mind that she's tormenting herself along with him when she slides upward until he's barely inside of her, teasing herself on only the head of his cock. the muscles in her thighs flex with the restraint it takes to hold herself back, sticky with the same wetness that drips along the length of him when she repeats the motion. her smile disappears, wiped away by the ragged sigh on her next exhale, the strangled catch in her breath on her next inhale. she leans back in his hold so he can watch where he's inside of her, her teeth pulling at her own lip. ] Is it good? Tell me.
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he's always beautiful, but especially like this — undone by her and painted in a flush he would deny if she were to bring it to his attention. her fingers map it first before her tongue follows, dipping her head to drag it hotly over the line of his throat, sucking his pulse point into her mouth. to make it impossible to forget her the next time he vanishes into their cabin with his phone pressed to his ear, just as the imprint of his fingers form a band around her thigh. something to trace over while they're apart, that rekindles the wanting ache between her thighs.
i've missed you, she wants to say, an unbidden confession that begs to leap from her throat. it's only been a handful of hours, but his schemes and her refusal to so much as breathe aleksander's name in his presence have nearly trapped them in different worlds. she blows a breath over his damp skin as she charts a path over his cheek, his chin, back to a mouth she's kissed into ripeness — and licks into his mouth to distract herself from the urge.
she can still taste him on her tongue, addictingly sweet, when she breaks away from his lips. ]
Is it what, Nik? [ aleksander never could grasp the concept of mercy. the vital trait that sets them apart. what she clings to, when the lines blur and the woman in the mirror peering back at her in the mirror seems like more of a stranger than a familiar friend. teasing nikolai now is far from merciful, but his reactions to her spur her onward with a smile that looks entirely too proud of herself for rendering him speechless.
never mind that she's tormenting herself along with him when she slides upward until he's barely inside of her, teasing herself on only the head of his cock. the muscles in her thighs flex with the restraint it takes to hold herself back, sticky with the same wetness that drips along the length of him when she repeats the motion. her smile disappears, wiped away by the ragged sigh on her next exhale, the strangled catch in her breath on her next inhale. she leans back in his hold so he can watch where he's inside of her, her teeth pulling at her own lip. ] Is it good? Tell me.