Page 82 of Scarlet Chains
He only stops when my cries turn to whimpers, when my body goes lax and sated against the couch. Gently, he kisses his way back up my body, pausing to swirl his tongue inside my navel before finally pulling back to look at me.
His eyes are hooded with passion, dark and stormy, the pupils blown wide with desire. When his fingers brush away the damp strands of hair clinging to my cheek, his thumb traces the trail of a tear that escaped without my notice.
“You okay,milaya?” His voice is rough with emotion, his thumb gentle against my skin. “Did I hurt you?”
My breath still comes in gasps, my body thrumming with the aftermath of pleasure. “No,” I whisper, reaching up to cradle his stubbled jaw. “You didn’t hurt me. That was… God, Osip, I’ve never felt anything like that.”
His smile is pure male satisfaction, his eyes glittering with dark promise. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making you feel that and so much more. Mark my words, Ilona Katona Shiradze. You’ll never know a night without pleasure so intense it leaves you crying out my name.”
My skin flushes with sudden heat, sensitive and tingling all over, especially between my thighs where he’s just branded me with his mouth. I should be embarrassed by how responsive my body is, how much I want to experience that pleasure all over again.
Instead, I feel powerful. The way he’s looking at me— like I’m a goddess he’s been granted permission to worship— makes me feel like the most desirable woman in the world.
I run my hands over the hard lines of his body, and my mouth goes dry. He’s magnificent— all lean muscle and controlled power, his cock hard and heavy between his thighs. There are more scars here, evidence of a violent past I’m only beginning to understand, but they don’t detract from his beauty. If anything, they add to it, proof of his strength and resilience.
“God, I want you so much,” I whisper, tugging him closer.
His mouth finds mine again as he settles over me, his weight delicious and welcome. I can feel his cock pressing against my thigh, hot and demanding, but he doesn’t rush. Instead, he kisses me slowly and thoroughly, like we have all the time in the world.
His hands map every curve and hollow of my body with reverent attention, finding sensitive spots I didn’t even know existed. When his fingers finally slip between my thighs, finding me still wet and ready for him, we both groan at the contact.
“So hot for me,” he murmurs against my throat, his fingers circling my clit with perfect pressure. “Tell me what you want,milaya.”
“You,” I gasp, my hips lifting into his touch. “I want you inside me. I want all of you.”
“You have me,” he murmurs against my lips. “Always.” His kiss is gentle this time, almost reverent, as he settles between my thighs. I feel the blunt head of his cock at my entrance, and weboth hold our breath as he begins to push inside with exquisite care.
The stretch is perfect, the fullness exactly what I need. He’s even bigger than I remembered, and it takes several long moments for my body to adjust, but the slight burn only adds to the pleasure. When he’s finally seated fully inside me, we both go still, just breathing each other in.
“You feel like home,” I tell him, meaning every word, and I watch something beautiful break across his face.
“So do you,” he whispers back, and then he begins to move.
It’s slow and deep and so perfect I could cry. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through my already sensitized body, and I wrap my legs around his waist to pull him deeper. Our eyes stay locked together, sharing every sensation, every emotion, every breath.
This isn’t fucking— it’s making love in the truest sense, a claiming that goes both ways. I’m his, but he’s mine too, and the knowledge fills me with fierce satisfaction.
“I love you,” I whisper against his lips as he moves inside me, and his answer is to kiss me deeper, his rhythm never faltering.
“My woman,” he growls, and the possessive words send heat spiraling through my core. “Mine. Mine to love and protect forever.”
The pace gradually builds, becoming more urgent, more desperate. His hands grip my hips as he drives into me harder, deeper, and I meet him thrust for thrust, chasing the pleasure that’s building in my core like wildfire.
When my second orgasm hits, it’s even more intense than the first, pleasure radiating outward from where we’re joined until my entire body is shaking with it.
“Osip!” I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders, and the feeling of me clenching around him sends him over the edge.
He comes with a harsh groan, his body going rigid above me as he spills inside me with deep, powerful thrusts. The feeling of his release, the knowledge that we’re joined as completely as two people can be, makes me shiver with aftershocks of pleasure.
Afterward, we lie tangled together in the golden light, both of us breathing hard and thoroughly satisfied. His arms are wrapped around me like bands of steel, like he’s afraid I might disappear if he doesn’t hold tight enough.
“How long?” I ask quietly, my fingers resting softly against his breastbone, where his heart is still beating a frantic rhythm.
“How long what?”
“Until the wedding. How long do I have to plan?”
His laugh rumbles through his chest, and I feel his lips press against the top of my head. “As long as you want. Tomorrow, next month, next year— whatever makes you happy.”
