Page 62 of Auctioned to the Russian Pakhan
Her breath hitched, but she couldn’t look away. She kept her ice blue eyes, the ones she’d caught him staring at so many times, fixed on his face, even as his words cut through her.
“But somewhere between your first escape and watching you charm my family, between seeing you light up when I took you to the operations and the way you fought back every time I tried to cage you...” He stepped closer, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek. “You stopped being a weapon and became everything.”
A sob escaped her, broken and beautiful in its honesty. “Matvei...”
“I don’t deserve you,” he continued, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped down her cheek. The gentle touch made her heart race. “I bought you like you were nothing morethan property. I married you under false pretenses. I’ve been planning your family’s destruction while falling in love with you, and the guilt has been eating me alive.”
“You love me?” The words were barely a whisper, her voice trembling with disbelief and hope.
“God help me, I do.” The admission seemed torn from his chest. “I love your stubborn streak and the way you refuse to be intimidated. I love how you see right through my bullshit and call me on it. I love that you’re brave enough to tell me the truth even when it could destroy everything between us.”
Something inside her broke free, all the walls she’d built, all the fear she’d carried. She launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck as her mouth crashed against his. The kiss was desperate, messy, full of tears and relief, and something that felt like forgiveness. He caught her against him, lifting her off her feet as months of tension and want and love poured between them.
When they broke apart, both breathing hard, her forehead rested against his. “I love you too,” she whispered. “I tried so hard not to, but you made it impossible.”
The next kiss was slower, deeper, layered with all the emotions they’d finally admitted to each other. His hands roamed her body with reverence, and she felt him relearning every curve as if this was the first time he’d touched her. In many ways, it was. The first time without lies between them, without hidden agendas or betrayals lurking in the shadows.
“I want you,” she breathed against his lips. “All of you. No more walls.”
When Matvei carried her to the bed, his movements careful and deliberate, Irina knew this was not going to be like their first time, sweet and cautious, or their second, hot anddesperate. This was going to be raw and honest. Everything they had buried, everything they felt, would be poured into this moment, this connection.
Her hands were already on his shirt, fumbling at the buttons, fingers trembling with need. But he caught her wrists gently, stilling her.
“We have time,” he murmured, kissing her palm, then her wrist where her pulse pounded. “Let me worship you… the way I should have from the start.”
Her eyes softened, trust and hunger swirling together. That look nearly broke him. She could see it in the way his throat worked, in the slight tremor of his jaw as though keeping himself from devouring her too quickly.
He undressed her slowly, almost painfully so. Each button undone was like a string being pulled from a knot deep inside her. Every inch of revealed skin was kissed, touched, and adored. His mouth traced the elegant slope of her shoulder, lingered at the hollow of her collarbone, then descended to the soft swell of her breasts. Her breath caught when his lips brushed over one nipple before closing around it, his tongue teasing until her back arched.
Her thighs parted in invitation, a silent plea for more, her body betraying her in the way it pulsed and ached for him.
“You’re trembling,” Matvei whispered, his voice husky with awe. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
His hands moved with purpose, exploring her like he was learning a prayer by touch alone. They smoothed over her waist, cupped her hips, skimmed down the length of her thighs. When his palm finally pressed against the damp heat between her legs, a low groan rumbled from his chest.
“So wet already,” he murmured, his fingers teasing her through the thin fabric of her panties. “You want me this badly,krasotka?”
She whimpered, nodding helplessly, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came.
He knelt between her legs, eyes locked on hers as he kissed the inside of her thigh. The heat of his breath there made her shiver. He kissed higher, slow and deliberate, until his mouth was close enough to make her heart pound painfully in her chest. He peeled her panties down with an infuriating slowness, his gaze never leaving hers, and when they were gone, he lowered his head and tasted her.
It was slow at first, unhurried, almost teasing. His tongue moved in languid, deliberate strokes, savoring her as though he had waited his entire life for this. Every flick, every circle, every pressure point was intentional.
“Please…” she whispered, her voice already trembling.
Her hips lifted involuntarily to meet him, but he held her steady. “Not yet,” he murmured against her, his voice low and rough, controlling the pace until she was gasping.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp as she tried to pull him closer. His mouth only moved faster when her soft moans turned into desperate sounds, when her thighs began to tremble around his head.
“Fuck, don’t stop,” she begged, her voice breaking.
The pressure built until it was unbearable, and when release hit her, it tore through her like a wave crashing against rock. She cried out his name, shuddering, and he drank in every last tremor until she was left trembling and breathless.
When he finally lifted his head, his mouth and chin glistened with her arousal, his breathing heavy, his gaze burning with unrestrained hunger. He descended on her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue sweeping in to claim her, letting her taste herself on him.
She reached for him with shaky hands, fumbling with the button of his pants, her voice low and urgent. “Matvei… I need you. Please.”
“You have me,” he said, the words as much a vow as a promise. He freed himself, his hardness brushing against her slick folds, drawing a sharp inhale from her. He lingered there, teasing, letting the heat and ache between them build until she was almost shaking again.
