Page 109 of Beautiful Agony

"It's okay," he whispers, kissing away my tears as his fingers work the clasp of my bra. "Don't cry."

"I can't help it," I confess as the lace falls away and his warm hands cup my breasts. "I love you so much. The thought of losing you—" My voice breaks. "I can't bear it."

His thumbs brush my nipples in gentle circles as he captures my gaze. "Then don't think about that future," he murmurs. "Be here with me now. In this moment." His lips find mine again, soft and reassuring. "Let it unfold as it may."

I close my eyes and lean into his touch, trying to focus only on the present—on his hands on my body, his lips against mine, the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. But even as pleasure sparks through me at his caresses, I can't completely silence the voice in my head whispering that this might be the last time he holds me like this.

I pull back from his kiss, my hands trembling slightly against his chest.

"Please," I whisper. "I want to remember every detail."

His eyes darken with understanding, and he nods. My fingers move to his shirt buttons, working each one free with deliberate care. The crisp white fabric parts beneath my touch, revealing his sculpted torso inch by inch.

I push the shirt off his broad shoulders, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. My hands trace the planes of his chest, following the intricate patterns of his tattoos. Each one tells a story—of pain, of power, of survival.

But most importantly, of a man who loves me.

My lips follow the path my fingers blazed, pressing soft kisses to his warm skin. Here, a jagged scar from a knife fight. There, the smooth raised line of a bullet wound. Every mark is a testament to his strength, to the battles he's fought and won.

I explore each ridge of hard muscle with reverent attention, memorizing the way they flex under my touch. The soft sounds he makes as I work my way down his body only fuel my determination to map every detail.

My tongue traces the tattoo over his heart. Lower still, my teeth graze along the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath his waistband.

When I reach his pants, I look up to find his stormy gray eyes watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. The raw emotion I see there mirrors everything I'm feeling—love, desire, fear, hope—all tangled together in an impossible knot.

I reach for Vadim's belt buckle with trembling fingers, undoing it slowly. The soft clink of metal and rasp of leather feels amplified in the quiet room. My hands work at his zipper next, the sound sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

As I ease his pants down his powerful thighs, his familiar masculine scent surrounds me—spicy and rich, and tinged with something that's uniquely him. His fingers move gently through my hair as I press soft kisses along the carved muscle of his thighs, trying to commit every detail of those hard bands into my memory.

The impressive length of him pulses before my face, and my mouth waters at the sight. I want to memorize everything—the way the veins trace patterns along his shaft, the velvet softness of his skin, the slight curve that fits so perfectly inside me.

I trail reverent kisses up his length, savoring each twitch and throb against my lips. When I reach the swollen head, a glistening drop beckons. I lap it away with the tip of my tongue, relishing his sharp intake of breath.

Opening my mouth, I take him inside, letting his thick shaft stretch my lips. The weight of him on my tongue feels like coming home.

His appreciative moans send shivers down my spine as I work. "So good,zvyozdochka," he whispers. "You're perfect."

Fresh tears roll down my cheeks at the tenderness in his voice. His fingers brush them away with gentle strokes that make my heart ache. I can't keep crying like this—I need to focus on making this moment unforgettable for him.

My hands join in, caressing and stroking as I worship him with my mouth.

Desire builds with each moan I draw from him. When his strong hand starts kneading my breasts again, I can't hold back a moan of my own.

His other hand trails down my back, following the curve of my spine. Past the swell of my hips, and the round of my ass until those powerful fingers rest just outside of my wet folds.

I pull back from him, panting. "Please," I whisper, my voice thick with need. "I want your fingers inside me."

His eyes darken at my plea. He bends down and captures my mouth in a searing kiss that makes my head spin. When he pulls away, I'm left breathless and trembling.

Thick fingers slide between my wetness, teasing at first. Then finally, mercifully, he pushes one deep inside me.

My body arches into his touch and takes him deeper inside. The fullness makes my toes curl against the carpet. My hands clutch at his thighs, desperate for something to anchor me as waves of pleasure crash through me.

Another finger joins, and together, they start moving in a steady rhythm that has me moaning his name. Each stroke hits perfectly, making my thighs shake. The intimacy of his touch,combined with the tenderness in his stormy gray eyes as he watches my reactions, threatens to overwhelm me completely.

"So good," he murmurs approvingly as I writhe against his hand. "So perfect."

I swallow him into my mouth again, cherishing the familiar stretch of my lips around him. His quiet groan sends shivers through me as I work him deeper. With each motion, I take more of his impressive length until I feel him nudge my throat.

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