Page 10 of Corrupt: XXX Vadim 2
Chapter Four
Iwake up just as the sky is setting beneath the waterfront below. It’s evening already, though I still feel exhausted beneath a level of sex-drunk energy. Yawning, I disentangle myself from Vadim, and I have to pinch myself just to keep from watching him for hours. His two-day exile from bed resulted in poor sleep, apparently. He’s unconscious, his chest rising and falling in a slow, easy rhythm that shatters the guarded persona he so regularly presents to the world.
He’s mine like this—a dangerous thought I can’t seem to shake. Hoarding his beauty to myself, I take my time lightly stroking the panes of his chest, my mind racing ahead to all the dirty ways I could explore him further.
Eventually, his welfare takes precedence as my own stomach growls in hunger. Sighing, I leave the bed and tiptoe into the closet to steal one of his shirts, opting for more coverage than my lingerie in case I find Ena lurking downstairs. Then, I enter the kitchen to find it empty, and I fix up one of the freezer meals, dividing it among two plates. When I return upstairs, I’m juggling a bottle of orange juice for him and wine for me.
I move cautiously, only to trip over the threshold, and I wind up dropping my wine. It lands with a thud that could wake up the devil himself. Crestfallen, I look at the bed, and sure enough, Vadim is stirring, a lazy hum rumbling in his throat.
“Breakfast?” he wonders, sounding so darn husky my toes curl. His eyes are surprisingly mistrustful, suspicious even. Might I have laced his juice with poison, I imagine him thinking. Do I truly forgive him so easily?
I smirk to feed his paranoia, and a lazy grin shapes his mouth in response, his jaw softening.
“Dinner,” I correct, inching forward to set our plates on the bed. I lift a fork from his and stab at a piece of steaming meat. Then I shift onto my knees and crawl toward him. “Open.”
He does so with his own amused smirk, allowing me to feed him the first bite. I gape as he chews, and I rush to drag his plate closer and offer him something else.
“I love pampering you,” I murmur as he opens his mouth for more.
“I will turn you into a domestic yet,” he teases, making my heart skip. “First, I’ll get you addicted to my cock, and then I’ll have you trained to enjoy feeding me. You’ll be far too sprung to leave.”
He sounds so confident. Too confident, making the boast sound more like a promise than anything else.
“Is that so?” I scoot back and grab my own plate, sampling a few roasted veggies, leaving him to feed himself. “I’ll have you know that I don’t think I’d make a very good soccer mom.”
Something in my tone makes him shrug the blankets from his frame and stand. I stare as he stretches his bare limbs and pads into the bathroom. I follow him and wind up leaning against the doorway as he steps into the shower.
Cocking his head, he meets my gaze, his eyes flashing. “What was that you promised me once?” he wonders. “Something about sucking me off to show your gratitude…”
“Devil!” I grin wickedly and finger the buttons of my borrowed shirt. “Only if you ask me nicely.”
His gaze fixates on my mouth, and I shiver as his tongue traces his lower lip. “I would very much enjoy feeling your mouth on me.”
I’m naked within seconds, practically running toward him. The shower spray bastes us with gentle pressure as I follow him to the bench and drop to my knees. Our eyes meet and something unspoken shoots between us, as jolting as electricity.
I take him in without hesitation as he sinks his fingers through my hair, groaning in approval. Eager to push his reaction to the fullest, I grip the base of him, gasping as he thickens, straining against my touch.
The pleasure is so intense my eyes threaten to roll, but… A part of me panics with the increasing realization that watching him watch me is ten times more explosive than any impending orgasm. Our eyes meet again. I lick him. He jumps. I suck. His grip tightens, his eyelids fluttering.
So, I do it again.
And again.
His wall is down, his gaze open, and all I see is a man so beautiful it hurts, looking at me as though I’m a goddess. Desirable. Cherished.
And yet still kept at arm’s length.
Still, it’s beyond anything newly-divorced Tiffy could have imagined just a few days ago.
I close my eyes, overwhelmed, and put all of my focus into pleasuring him, feeding off the throaty groans that broadcast his enjoyment. Deeper. Rasps. Grunts. I worship him, teasing him with as much of my throat as I dare.
And in the end, I relish his release, drinking him down—every last drop.
It’s too good. Panting, I rest my face against his knee, seeking out the comfort of his touch. The sensation of his fingers over my heated flesh feels too damn soothing. A salve I’ve gone my whole life without needing, healing a pain I never realized ached until this moment.
Dangerous thoughts, Tiffy.With difficultly, I pull away.
“I will forever live in regret of denying myself this,” he says. I look up to find him leaning back against the wall of the shower stall, his hair mused, his expression shifting amid another earth-shattering revelation. His fingers graze my cheek reverently, smoothing back my damp hair, and I can’t resist settling against him again. “I love the way you suck my cock.”
