Page 135 of Beautiful Agony

"Oh god," she pants. "I'm going to come. Please don't stop."

Her words dissolve into incoherent moans as I maintain my relentless pace. Her fingers clutch desperately at the counter edge, her knuckles white with tension.

"Vadim," she gasps. "I'm... I'm..."

The words die in her throat as Lacey shatters around me, her release triggering my own. My vision goes white as pleasure courses through my body. Her walls flutter to milk every last drop from me as I empty myself inside her.

When I finally pull out, I watch transfixed as evidence of our passion trickles down her inner thigh. She stays braced againstthe counter, catching her breath, while I reach over to turn on the shower.

Steam quickly fills the bathroom, fogging the mirrors that just witnessed our reunion. I sweep Lacey into my arms, cradling her close to my chest. Her head nestles against my shoulder, completely spent and trusting.

I carry her into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over us both. She sighs contentedly as I hold her under the spray, washing away the traces of our lovemaking.

"I missed you," she whispers against my chest.

"I missed you too,zvyozdochka." I press a kiss to her temple. "But don't worry, we're just getting started."

43

LACEY

Vadim's lipscapture mine under the steaming water. His hands cradle my face with a gentleness that makes my heart ache. When we break apart, I feel empty—not just physically, but emotionally.

The need to be closer to him, to feel every inch of his body against mine, overwhelms me.

I reach for the soap, working it into a lather between my hands. Starting at his broad shoulders, I trace each ridge and valley of muscle. His skin is a canvas of scars and tattoos that tell the story of his life. I take my time, memorizing every detail.

"Turn around," I whisper.

He obliges, and I continue my exploration down his back. The soap makes my hands glide effortlessly over his skin. I pay special attention to the tension in his shoulders, working my fingers into the knots until I feel them release.

Moving lower, I trace the dimples at the base of his spine. His breath hitches when my hands curve around his hips. I presscloser, my breasts brushing against his back as I reach around to soap his chest and stomach.

The hot water streams down between us as I work my way back up his body. My fingers trail over each of his tattoos. When I reach his neck, I rise on my tiptoes to press a kiss between his shoulder blades.

"Let me see you," I breathe against his skin.

He turns to face me again, and I continue my ministrations across his chest. The soap makes my hands slip and slide over his pecs, down the ridges of his abs. His muscles jump under my touch.

I look up to find his stormy gray eyes watching me intently. The hunger I see there makes heat pool low in my belly, but I'm not done worshipping every inch of him yet.

My hands move lower, following the V of his hips. His cock twitches as my soapy fingers brush close, but don't quite touch. Not yet.

"You're going to tease me to death," Vadim groans as I kneel before him.

"That's the idea." I smile up at him through the curtain of water, continuing my slow exploration down his powerful thighs.

I press kisses along the defined muscles of his legs, savoring how they twitch under my touch. When I reach his calves, I take my time massaging the tension there too.

Above me, his breathing grows heavier. I can feel his eyes following my every move as I work my way back up, my hands never quite touching where he wants them most.

His cock hardens fully again, jutting proudly in front of my face. The sight makes my mouth water. Unable to resist any longer, I wrap my soapy hand around his thick length.

He hisses through clenched teeth as I start stroking him mercilessly. My grip is firm but slick from the soap, allowing my hand to glide smoothly from base to tip. His hips buck involuntarily when I twist my wrist on the upstroke.

"Fuck," he growls, one hand bracing against the shower wall while the other tangles in my wet hair.

I quicken my pace, drinking in how his muscles tense and release with each stroke. The raw need in his voice only spurs me on.

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