Page 25 of Shatter Me

The words barely leave my mouth before his lips crash into mine. The kiss is nothing like our previous ones—it’s pure possession, teeth and tongue warring as his hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise. I bite his lower lip in retaliation, drawing a growl deep in his chest.

“Such fire,” he says against my mouth. “Always fighting, even when you surrender.”

My fingers tangle in his perfect hair, destroying the careful styling as I pull him closer. His body presses fully against mine, the hard length of him hot against my stomach through our clothes. The shelf edge digs into my back but I barely notice, lost in the taste of expensive scotch on his tongue.

“I haven’t surrendered anything,” I gasp as his mouth trails down my neck. My head falls back, giving him better access despite my words. “This doesn’t mean you win.”

His chuckle vibrates against my throat. “No?” His teeth graze my pulse point. “Your body says otherwise,kukolka.” One hand slides down to grip my thigh, hitching it around his hip to grind against me. “I can feel how wet you are through your dress.”

Heat floods my cheeks, but I refuse to look away from his intense gaze. His pupils are blown wide, only a thin ring of ice-blue remaining. For once, his perfect control is slipping.

“I need to taste you.” His voice is rough and dangerous. “Every. Inch.” Each word is punctuated with a roll of his hips, making me dig my nails into his shoulders. “Let me show you what surrender really means.”

His hands grip my waist, lifting me with a strength that makes my breath catch. My back meets the smooth surface of a wooden crate. Its polished finish is cool through my dress against my heated skin. My heart hammers against my ribs as Dmitri positions himself between my legs, his expensive suit brushing the bare skin of my thighs.

“Still fighting?” His fingers trace patterns on my inner thigh, each touch sending sparks through my body.

I bite my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But my body betrays me as his hand inches higher, my hips shifting unconsciously toward his touch.

“Your silence speaks volumes.” He leans down, his breath hot against my neck. His other hand tangles in my hair, tugging my head back to expose my throat. “But I want to hear you.”

The crate creaks beneath me as he presses closer. The rational part of my brain screams that we’re surrounded by priceless artifacts, that anyone could find us, and that this is beyond reckless. But with his mouth trailing fire down my neck and his hand inching up my thigh, rationality feels like a distant memory.

“Last chance to stop me,” he warns, lips pressed against my collarbone, teeth grazing sensitive skin.

I should say no. Should push him away. Should maintain some shred of dignity. Instead, I arch into his touch, my fingers clutching his shoulders as his hand slides higher.

The smirk I feel against my skin tells me he knows he’s won this round. But as his fingers brush against the lace, drawing a gasp from my lips, I find I don’t care about winning anymore.

I moan as his fingers slide beneath the lace, teasing with feather-light touches that make my body erupt with heat. His mouth claims mine again, swallowing my whimpers as he teases me higher.

“So responsive,” he growls against my lips. “I’ve imagined this for weeks. The sounds you’d make. How you’d feel.”

My hands fumble with his tie, desperate to feel skin. He catches my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head against the crate.

“Patience,kukolka.” His free hand continues its torment between my thighs. “I want to savor this.”

“Dmitri...” His name comes out as a plea. I can feel another smirk against my neck.

“Yes?” Two fingers slide inside me, making my back arch. “Tell me what you want.”

“I hate you,” I gasp as his thumb circles my clit.

“No, you don’t.” He curls his fingers, and stars explode behind my eyes. “You hate how much you want me. How wet you get thinking about me. How easily I can make you fall apart.”

His words and his touch push me closer to the edge. My hips rock against his hand, chasing release. The crate creaks beneath us, but I’m beyond caring about our surroundings.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, increasing his pace. “Show me how much you hate me.”

I’m spiraling out of control, teetering on the edge of orgasm, when he suddenly stops. I open my eyes to see him smirking, triumphant, and my brain registers what’s happening.

“No—” I try to protest, but he silences me with a kiss as he trails lower, his tongue dancing along my skin. My fingers tighten in his hair, guiding him lower as he kisses and sucks his way across my stomach.

“Dmitri...” I’m half pleading, half warning, but he just chuckles against my skin. I feel his hot breath between my thighs a second before his mouth replaces it, and I cry out at the first touch of his tongue.

He moans, the vibrations shooting straight to my core, and I clutch at the crate as he devours me. He tastes me like he’s starving and craving this as much as I am. One hand grips my hip, holding me in place as his tongue strokes and dances, sending sparks of pleasure through my body.

I’m a mess of sensation, my head falling back against the crate, my mouth open in a silent scream as he teases me closer and closer to the edge. Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he stops, his fingers replacing his tongue until I’m sobbing and begging for release.

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