Page 39 of The Pakhan

My mind was fuzzy, yet another series of images became scattered, vivid and full of detail.

Him.

I needed him. Now.

His arms.

His warmth.

His touch.

Oh, God. What was I thinking? Was it wrong, forbidden? Would I be committing a sin? A strangled laugh floated around me, almost as if a ghost had formed because of the electricity in the room.

I was so conflicted but as he pulled down the straps on my bra, the need for him that I’d felt from the moment I entered his home to ask for his aid came rushing to the surface. I reached for his shirt, yanking with enough force I almost stumbled, laughing nervously.

“Careful there, baby girl,” he muttered and ripped down the lace from around my breasts. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

I’d been raised a good Catholic girl, which had always made me laugh since both my parents had used the church as yet another platform for their power and wealth. But I couldn’t help but pay homage to the sins I was about to perform.

But if I was looking for absolution, I knew that wouldn’t come. I’d been a sinner for far too long. He allowed me to tug his shirt over his head and as soon as I did, the flash of lightning was no longer terrifying. It was enlightening, allowing me to catch a quick and stunning glimpse of the ink carefully crafted like artwork across his broad chest.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” he said, although I sensed he was only saying the words, perhaps giving me an out.

I didn’t want one. “We’re both sinners, Vadim. I don’t care. I want to feel again. I want you.” They were bold words coming from a girl who’d never initiated a date let alone sex with anyone in her life. But everything was different around him, every sense heightened.

I knew his eyes were still penetrating mine, but I was too busy running my palms up and down his chest, marveling in his sculpted muscles and the tingling sensations racing through me like wildfire.

Suddenly, there was no gentleness about his need, no tender moment leading up to the passion we’d both felt, the rush of longing that could destroy us both.

But it was worth the risk.

Being with him was worth everything.

There was just the here and now, a necessary evil that could eventually burn us into the ground. But we no longer cared. There was no pretense about this. There could be no concept of forever in our future. There would never be acceptance for what was considered forbidden, a taboo that would always encase us in pain and desire.

But there was this moment, this beautiful period where everything and everyone else vanished. Just us.

Lust.

Need.

Passion.

He ripped off my bra with ease, clasping the back of my neck with his hand and forcing my back into a tight arc. While I sensed he remained on edge, doing his best to control his animalistic needs, he was surprisingly tender even with his fingers digging into my neck. I should feel suffocated, but I felt completely the opposite.

His breath was hot, but his lips and tongue were scalding as he flicked the tip back and forth across first one taut nipple then the other.

I could do nothing but grip his arms, clamping down as I stared at the window. All the reasons we shouldn’t do this were shoved aside, the longing capturing us in the very web I’d thought about earlier.

Vadim took my entire nipple into his mouth, sucking ferociously as he tossed his head back and forth. Within seconds, both were overly sensitive, my breathing more ragged than before. He took his time, rubbing his lips from one side to the other, constantly making growling sounds as he shifted between each bud. The back and forth tickled me, delighted my mind and kept the fire fully engaged.

When he jerked me to a standing position, our lips were close, so close. He whispered words in Russian that I couldn’t understand and didn’t bother to have him translate. But the growl he issued was understandable in any language.

My lips parted involuntarily, encouraging his tongue to slip inside, and he thrust it in, sweeping it back and forth as he took control. Just the way he held me in his arms was entirely different, his protective armor sliding off.

He was so dominating, commanding in everything he did. He was my protector, my savior.

Now he’d become my lover.

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