Page 72 of Vitaly

A third round of knocks never comes while I take my time making the bed, zero desire to explain to anyone why I sleep on the floor.

When I flip on the light and open the door, one foot shifted back like I’m braced for anything, I find Mila in the hall peering at me with wide, serious eyes that steal my breath.

My eyes dart down the hall in search of the source of that seriousness, but my attention abruptly shifts back to her as she rises onto her toes and takes my face in her hands, crashing her lips to mine.

My arms tense as I stumble backward with Mila’s lips clung to mine, but when I have a second to register what's happening, a sigh unwinds my chest. My hands lower to her hips, and I match her intensity before kicking the door shut.

Her face turns, breaking the kiss. When she whips back to me with parted, swollen lips, she looks as ferocious as a tigress.

“Why can’t you chase me for a change?” she asks, her voice a low purr.

I smile, shifting my body closer until her silk top caresses the bottom of my favorite tattoo. My fingertips glide over her shoulder before pushing her hair back to reveal the warm glow of her flesh.

“I came all the way from Russia for you,” I whisper, playing with the strap of her silk cami. My eyes lower to the hem of her shorts then rise to the buds poking through her top. The air in the room feels thin, but my mind is heavy, and I sway ever so slightly as the scent of her perfume warms itself inside my nostrils. “The least you could do is walk upstairs.”

Her hand is firm when she cups the back of my neck and jerks me to her, catching me in another brutal kiss. My eyes close, and I relax into it, but she’s finished just as abruptly as she started, jerking me back by my hair. It’s rough. Rough enough that my first instinct is to retaliate with greater force. It lights a fire inside of me that travels the length of my body. When I open my eyes, I wonder if they’re blazing. And then I wonder if it’s what she wants, and the whole thing excites me.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to come here?” she asks like it makes any difference. She’s here. This is happening.

“Obviously not hard enough.”

“You want me to go?” She looks me up and down, as if challenging me. I think she likes to challenge me. I think I like it too.

I lean in close, putting my mouth to her ear while running one hand lightly up her back until my palm is resting on thick, dark locks. “Pull my hair again.”

Immediately, her eager fingers thread through my hair, but before she can pull, I yank her head back,hard, possibly too hard and watch her lips closely as she gasps. When her eyesreopen, I bring her to me with a kiss just as bruising as she gave me and lift her by her lower thighs.

Her hands caress my face as I carry her to the bed we’ve both called our own at one time or another and lay her down before climbing on top of her.

I could kiss her like this all night, even with my cock hard and throbbing in my shorts. But when Mila’s hands move from my face to my back, smoothing over a field of scars, it gives me pause. I don’t stop. Neither does she. But it brings me back to reality, to a world where I am the man I am and not nearly good enough for her.

I tear away from her, making her hands still and her eyes penetrate mine.

“Grab my cock,” I whisper, kissing along her jaw before making my lips and tongue at home on her neck. Relief pushes my eyes shut as her hands slide from my back to my hips before she slips one beneath my waistband.

Her grip on my cock feels so good that I thrust without giving my hips the command and groan against her neck as she squeezes.

“How long has it been?” she asks, her voice a husky whisper.

My chest rumbles as I laugh against her neck. “Too long.”

“Howlong?”

My smile falls, and I consider blowing off the question. I’m not embarrassed, certainly not ashamed. But I don’t know where she’s going with this, and I don’t know if I’d like her to take me there. Sex is … not something I’ve thought about in a very long time. You’d think those urges would never go away, that a man or even woman would starve without it for so long, that they’d feeldeprivedin some way.

But I once watched a man be raped with a potato that another starving man later ate. The sounds of newcomers—young, just like I was but not as brutal—being taken by savageskept me awake at night for years before I learned to sleep through the noise.

I don’t know at what point I stopped craving sex, but even after I was released, I didn’t seek it out. It isn’t something I’ve felt desperate for, until now. Now if Mila chooses to walk out of this room, I might explode.

“The day before I met you,” I say at last, running my hand over her stomach, so smooth, impossibly unmarred for a woman who’s lived her life.

She coaxes my cock with an experienced hand that brings a tiny smile to my lips thinking about the irony of this. She was supposed to be a virgin, and I the experienced one. What a different life we would’ve lived.

“Get off.” She nudges my shoulder to help guide me off of her until I roll onto my back in the empty spot beside her. When she stands on the mattress, she stares down at me with that same, feisty look she gave me earlier, one I could get used to looking at.

I fold my arms behind my neck and watch as she slowly lifts her top over her head, revealing perky, full breasts with rosy-pink nipples that jut from her areolas. She goes to her shorts next, crooking her thumbs in the waistband before leisurely shifting her hips and letting the silk kiss her skin on the way down.

Her eyes never leave me throughout her display, and when her panties are off—revealing her shaved pussy she lets me peek at through slightly parted thighs—she drops to her knees and crawls to me.

---