Page 47 of Conquer
And yet, she beams as she glances at Vadim. “Can we? Please?”
Sighing, he gives a nod of approval. “Alright.”
She races off, her loyal henchman in tow. The second they slip beyond view, I rise from my chair and slink toward Vadim. Given the fact that I’m still very much in pain—my muscles stiff with disuse—I wind up lurching toward him more than anything sensual. Still, he reaches for me, settling me gingerly onto his lap.
“We should have some alone time,” I declare, pressing my lips to the side of his throat. Against his flesh, I murmur, “I declare our brief abstinence officially over.”
He chuckles, his hands on my hips, his expression pained once I slip my hand between us and cup the front of his slacks. “You’ve barely healed,” he points out as I flinch the second I strain my side too much.
Shrugging him off, I persist, rocking my palm against him until he groans in capitulation. “Be naughty with me for just a moment,” I beg, shamelessly licking a path down to his collar bone. “I’ll even let you have a slice of my cake after. I promise it’ll be worth it…”
“Not if I cause you any pain, it won’t,” he warns, always the stoic. Still, when I start to work my fingers into the clasp of his pants, he stands, lifting me in his arms. Before I regain my bearings, he carries me to the center island. Dazed, I grip the edge of the marble surface as he sinks to his knees, cursing under his breath.
I’m not the only one impatient, it seems.
“Don’t move,” he commands as his fingers creep beneath the waistband of my “healing attire”—a pair of his sweats. I shiver in anticipation, my eyelids threatening to shut as his heat bastes my belly and below.
A true torturer, he takes his time, unwrapping me as meticulously as one would a cherished present. I can’t prevent a moan from escaping my throat as I’m fully bared to him, deliciously exposed.
With his gaze fixated on my flesh, he grunts in appreciation. “And to think,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. “I was almost foolish enough to risk losing this…”
This.A prize that he claims with a single, devastating stroke of his thumb, making me lurch into his touch, a gasp breaking loose.
“Beautiful.” He sounds like a repentant sinner, more than ready to prostrate himself before an altar in a quest for redemption. And damn, does he endeavor to earn every ounce of mercy…
I gasp as his lips nudge my inner thigh, swiftly inching downward, forcing me to cling to the counter. As a result, I wind up opening myself to him further—a vulnerability that he eagerly takes advantage of. Soft, his tongue feathers over my piercing first in teasing, slight swipes. Followed by his lips. His teeth.
Everything.
I whine, gripping the counter to the point of pain, too far gone to feel the discomfort in my back as I arch into his embrace. Holy crap, he’s gotten too damn good at this since the last time. Far too soon, I’m nearing the brink, drowning in the quick, searing glances he throws my way in between every tasting lick and nibble.
Like I’m his alone…
To consume.
Own.
Destroy.
When my orgasm finally arrives with the strength of a freight train slamming into me, I moan shamelessly, my voice echoing throughout the room. The only way to save face is to fist my hand in his hair and tug, drawing him to his feet. Still holding him captive, I spin, switching positions.
Taking care not to rip my sutures, I sink down carefully, relying on his touch to steady me. Then I impatiently tug his pants down and eagerly return the favor.
“Merde!” He hisses as I flick the end of his piercing with my tongue and suckle, swallowing him whole, holding his gaze as I do so.
His eyes flicker, unfocused, and heavy-lidded. One flick of my tongue, and he’s experiencing another revelation, after revelation, afterrevelation. Before me, the man is born anew, empowered with a lifetime’s worth of pleasure he’s spent so long denying himself.
Soon, he’s rocking into me, grating out various broken bits of French. I make a mental note to do everything I can to learn the language as I suck, sending him spiraling into his own release. Spent, I lean against his thigh, stroking patterns into his perfect flesh. It’s so easy to just coexist with him, even in the aftermath of such a filthy, intimate act.
There is no shame between us. No more boundaries. Just silence, and understanding, and a peace so heavy it hurts.
And to think, I’ve spent so damn long denying myself of this. Will I let a bitch like Irina barge in and take this fragile calm away?
Hell no.
But a part of me warns that I may not have a choice…
“Shit!” Vadim jolts to attention, gently helping me to my feet, before scrambling to adjust his pants and wash his hands in the sink. Confused, I copy him, even as my brain struggles to process what set him off.
