Page 39 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
She lets go of my arm, risking her balance, and grabs the bottom of her summer dress, pulling it up over her body. Black lace G-string.
I groan loudly, gritting my teeth together, wondering if I should stop her or enjoy the show.
For fuck sake, Emmanuil. Stop her. What the hell are you thinking?
“You can’t swim now. Not after so many drinks,” I laugh, trying to grab her dress and pull it back down.
That perfect waist. Her beautiful, tight little ass. I can’t be tortured like this. It isn’t fair.
She sways a little and glares up at me, leaning into me, her breasts pressed against my chest as she sasses, “I’m hot.”
“Yes, yes, you are,” I whisper.
She grabs her dress again, and this time she manages to get it all the way over her head, but she gets stuck with it wrapped around her arms, up over her head.
“I didn’t undo the zipper,” she laughs, muffled from under the fabric as she almost falls over. I reach out and grab her. My hand brushes over her naked skin. She wiggles against my body, rubbing herself over me as she continues to try and free herself from the dress.
“Stop, let me help you,” I laugh, trying to make light of the situation, but the truth is I’m in agony. My desire is so heated that my cock is rock-hard. She hasn’t noticed, thank fuck. But I want her. I want her so badly.
She stops maneuvering and patiently waits for me to untangle her. I pull the dress up, over her arms, pausing with it wrapped around her wrists like a restraint.
I have her hands held above her head, her body on display. Black lace panties and a black lace bra that covers nothing. Her dark, round nipples are pressed against the sheer fabric, pert and taunting me.
I take a step forward, and she takes a step back, her ass sitting against the back of the outdoor sofa, and she spreads her legs, looking up at me with glittering golden eyes.
“Swim with me,” she whispers, and I have a feeling she isn’t talking about swimming at all.
If my heart beats any faster, I’m going to need a hospital. If my cock gets any harder, it’s going to tear through the seams of my pants.
I clench my jaw, begging myself not to do this.
Anya notices my hesitation and nose scrunches as she puts her lips. “I haven’t had sex in so long, stop teasing me like this.” She tugs her hands away from mine. I release her wrists, the dress still in my grasp.
She wanted sex. Why else would she say that? Just sex? Can I sleep with her and have it mean nothing?
My mind has gone into overdrive. My cock is dripping, throbbing, begging me to thrust myself into her perfect little pussy.
She wouldn’t fight me. She wants this.
Anya giggles and sways, even sitting down on the back of the sofa.
She’s too drunk.
What the fuck am I thinking?
Everything about this is wrong.
She leans forward, resting her cheek against my chest.
“So, are you going to swim with me or—“
Leaning down, I scoop her into my arms and cradle her against my chest. “You’re going to bed, kitten. I have a feeling you’re going to wake up feeling like hell tomorrow.”
She mumbles something I can’t hear as my hand drifts over her nakedness. Taking the stairs two at a time, I rush to get her to her bedroom. I don’t want to control myself. I need to get away from her.
Peeling her blankets away from the bed, I lay her gently beneath the covers and quickly pulled them up over her beautiful body.
It takes everything in me to walk away.
