Page 74 of Shatter Me

His hands slide reverently down my sides, and I shiver at his touch. He worships my body with his mouth; each kiss is an unspoken apology, and each caresses a plea for understanding.

“Dmitri,” I gasp as his lips find that sensitive spot below my ear.

“I should have told you everything.” His hands frame my face again, ice-blue eyes intense. “But I couldn’t risk losing this. Losing you.”

My heart thunders as his mouth claims mine again, and I know I’m lost. I can’t walk away even knowing what he is and what he does. Not when he touches me like this, like I’m something precious and rare.

His fingers trace patterns on my skin through my silk blouse, and I arch closer, craving more. Every touch feels like an offering, a declaration, a promise.

I should be pushing him away but can’t bring myself to do it. My body craves his touch and needs it like a drug. My protests die in my throat as he pushes my blouse from my shoulders, baring me to his hungry gaze.

His pupils widen as they roam over my lace bra, taking in the way my breasts strain against the delicate fabric. His hands skim my waist and my hips, following the lines of my body as if committing them to memory.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, lips brushing my collarbone. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

I bite my lip as his fingers nudge the front hook of my bra, his eyes never leaving mine. With a flick of his thumb, the lace falls away, setting my breasts free. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as his gaze lowers, taking in my hardened nipples.

“I want to taste you,” he says hoarsely, leaning down.

His mouth closes around one nipple, his tongue swirling and tugging, sending streaks of pleasure straight between my legs. I cry out, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to me.

He switches to the other nipple, lavishing attention until I’m squirming, desperate for more. Every touch, every flick of his tongue, sends sparks through my veins.

“Dmitri,” I breathe, tugging gently on his hair. “Please.”

He looks up, his eyes hooded with desire. “Tell me what you need.”

I swallow hard, my cheeks flaming. “I need—” I hesitate, my voice failing me.

“Tell me,kulkolka.” His fingers slide beneath the waistband of my skirt, stroking my bare skin. “Say it.”

The air catches in my throat as his fingers dip lower, teasing the edge of my panties.

“I need you,” I whisper. “Please.”

The word hangs between us, heavy with meaning. It’s more than just a request for pleasure; it’s an acknowledgment of the hold we have on each other.

His eyes burn into mine as he slowly slides my panties down my legs, never breaking eye contact. I leave the silky fabric on the floor, shivering as the cool air hits my heated skin, my skirt pushed up around my waist.

His breath is warm against my thigh as he kneels before me, his eyes fixed on the juncture between my legs. With slow, deliberate movements, he spreads my folds, exposing my most intimate core to his hungry gaze.

“You’re breathtaking,” he says hoarsely, his finger gently stroking me.

And then his mouth is on me, his tongue flicking and swirling, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I cry out, my hands clutching his shoulders, my hips lifting to meet his mouth. He groans in response, his tongue delving deeper, lapping at my arousal. My body trembles as he works his magic, lips, and tongue sending me higher and higher.

He adds his fingers, thrusting and curling inside me, finding that spot that makes my breath catch. I’m so close now, my body tightening like a coiled spring. His fingers never slow, his tongue never wavers, and then I’m falling, crying out as pleasure washes over me.

Dmitri laps at my essence, drawing out my release, his hands anchoring my hips. I feel exposed, open, and vulnerable, yet I don’t want it to end. I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to me, wanting to prolong this moment of complete surrender.

Finally, he lifts his head, lips slick and swollen, and I can see the satisfaction—and something more—in his eyes. He licks his lips, tasting me, and I shudder.

“That was just the beginning,” he promises, his thumb brushing my swollen lips. “I plan to spend the rest of the night exploring every inch of you.”

He stands before me, those ice-blue eyes blazing with desire.

Dmitri starts to unbutton his shirt, taking his time. I hold my gaze as he reveals inch after inch of his sculpted chest. I bite my lip, knowing what’s to come. He shrugs out of the shirt, letting it fall to the floor, his perfectly tailored trousers the only thing left hiding his desire for me.

“Come here,” he says, his voice low and rough.

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