Page 33 of Dancing With Desire

“The tip,” I say with a smirk.

She scoffs, and for a second, I think she’s going to tell me to fuck off, but she rises on her knees and licks her tongue over the end of my cock, swiping away the cum. She then sucks the tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. I groan, gripping the bedsheets in my fists. Without warning, she slides me to the back of her throat. “Fuck,” I hiss, watching as her head bobs up and down. “Victoria,” I snap, “you didn’t ask.”

She ignores me, moving faster and hollowing her cheeks as she sucks harder. I grip her hair, but my willpower is lost, and I can’t seem to pull her from me. She gags, pushing me farther to the back of her throat and rising to her feet. I pop from her mouth, and she grips my cock in her hands, moving them fast as she climbs over me. She pushes me to lie back on the bed, still moving her hands on my cock. “Victoria,” I mutter, my mind going blank. She lines my cock up at her entrance and pushes down, crying out in relief.

I groan as she tightens around me before lifting and slamming down again. She presses her hands to my chest and rides me, small groans of pleasure filling the room as she takes what she wants. I keep my eyes fixed to her, watching every gasp, every shudder, until she’s shaking from her orgasm. She falls against my chest, panting as the last tremors leave her. I wrap my arms around her waist and shove up into her, chasing my own release. I fuck her fast, needing to feel that warmth as my body releases. Seconds later, I come on a growl, pulling her down onto me and stilling while I come inside her.

We lie there for a few minutes before I reach for her wrists and untie them. She tries to crawl from my body, but I hold her closer, sliding us up onto the bed some more and placing her beside me. “Dmitry,” she begins, and I panic she’s going to askme to leave, so I place my hand over her mouth and wrap myself around her.

“Go to sleep, mykrasota. I haven’t finished with you yet.”

TORI

Iwake and reach over, relieved to find the other side of the bed empty so I can avoid the awkwardness of having to ask Dmitry to leave.

I stretch out, allowing my muscles to ease after our night of passion, and smile to myself. When things are good between us, they are so good, and this is why I fell hard for the man.

My stomach growls as hunger pains hit me, so I slide out of bed, grabbing my silk dressing gown from the back of the door.

I follow the smell of bacon wafting through the entire place and wonder if Marshall has finally cooked breakfast. As I pad into the kitchen, I freeze with my mouth hanging open in surprise. Dmitry is standing at the worktop, making breakfast. I’ve never seen him cook, yet here is, in my kitchen half-naked,doing just that. His defined abs bunch together as he moves around, grabbing whatever he needs. He hasn’t spotted me yet, and as “Lose Control” plays loudly over the sound system, he mutters the words. I watch in awe, realising it’s the first time I’ve seen him at such ease, and it makes my heart swell.

The internal battle between my head and my heart continues to play out at the thought of kicking him out when he’s clearly making an effort to put things right. He looks up and spots me. His dimples appear as he smiles, and his eyes light up. “Take a seat, mykrasota,” he says in his deep, gravelly voice, sending shivers through me.

“Since when do you cook?” I ask, laughing.

He raises an eyebrow. “I’ve always cooked, I just never seem to have the time. But today, I wanted to cook for my love and my growing child.” He beams with pride as he approaches me and places a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. My final resolve ebbs away when I’m met with complete and utter love. I want more of this, the playful, fun-loving side, where he sees nothing but me.

“I love you, mykrasota,” he whispers before he claims my mouth in a delicate kiss. He breaks away, going back to making breakfast, and I watch him attentively, savouring the tenderness of his touch.

I move towards him, and he watches me with hunger in his eyes. I slip my hand around him to get to the stack of toast he’s buttered, and I snatch a piece, popping a corner in my mouth and taking a bite, moaning in delight at the salty, buttery goodness. “We better feed you,” he says with a laugh.

“What’s your plan, Mr. Volkov? Put me in a food coma and leave me for the day?” I ask around my mouthful of toast. He shakes his head at me, laughing harder. “What?” I ask innocently. “Your kid is making me hungry all the goddamn time.”

“I was planning on spending the day, if that’s okay with you,” he replies, and he reaches over to pull me into his embrace. “And my child needs feeding. He’s going to be strong, just like his mama.” He places a stray hair behind my ear, and I suddenly feel overwhelmed with emotion.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” he asks, looking concerned and wiping a stray tear away with his thumb.

“Nothing,” I sniffle. “Goddamn emotions. I’m happy, honestly. Right here, right now, if I could bottle this up for eternity, I would.” I smile sadly.

“We can,” he whispers. “It doesn’t have to end here, let’s have today and just take it slow.” I start protesting, shaking my head, but he cups my face. “Stop overthinking. It’s all at your pace. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company today. No work, no drama . . . just me and you.”

I offer a small smile and nod, not trusting myself to speak. I want nothing more right now than what we have right here to continue. I want this forever, but the fear of getting hurt weighs heavily on my mind. And while Vivian is in business with him, we’ll never have the kind of peace I crave.

We eventually leavethe house a couple hours later after showering . . . and getting distracted with each other being naked . . . again.

Dmitry ordered Marshall to stay home with Phoebe, wanting it to be just us, a normal couple out enjoying our day. And even though I should be scared that there are people out there wanting me dead, especially with my most recent run-in, I know Dmitry won’t let anything happen to me again. He will kill anyone who puts me at risk, including his own men.

He stares straight ahead, keeping his eyes fixed on the road as he reaches over the centre console to rest his hand on my bare knee. He chose my short dress especially, I’m certain. And as his fingers repeatedly brush over my skin, it ignites something within me, even though it wasn’t even an hour ago he was buried inside me.

He pulls up outside Dolce & Gabbana and looks across at me, that grin firmly in place. I arch a brow. “Mr Volkov, what are we doing here?” I ask.

“You’ll be needing some maternity wear, and you should have only the best.” He winks as he gets out the car and makes his way around to my side. He opens my door, and I roll my eyes as he holds out his hand for me to take. I do, laughing, because he knows how much I hate it.

He slams the door and throws his arm around my waist, tugging me closer into his side. I shiver in his hold, feeling my heart swell with happiness at such a simple touch. “Are you cold?” he asks, concern lacing his features.

I shake my head. “You do these things to me when you’re close, Dmitry,” I say, smirking and darting my tongue over my lips suggestively. “Shall we just go back home?”

“Nice try, mykrasota, but I’m going to treat you like my queen today.” He pulls away, opening the door, and I walk inside.

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