Page 60 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
Don’t kiss him. If he wanted to kiss you, he would have done so on the Ferris wheel.
We walk into the mansion and upstairs towards the bedrooms. Outside my door, we both pause.
“I hope you sleep beautifully, Anya,” he says, his voice low as he stares down at me.
“Thank you for tonight, Em. It was so much fun.”
He nods, smiling, his eyes are dark in the low light of the hallway.
I slip my arm around his waist, wanting to hug him goodnight.
Standing on my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek, friendly, not crossing any boundaries. His skin is warm, and the scent of his cologne is as intoxicating as it has been all night.
His body presses into mine as he steps closer to me, pushing my back against the wall.
My heart is racing and my head spinning as he slides one hand around my waist. His other hand touches my neck, his long fingers brushing up my cheek and turning my face towards his.
His lips crash into mine, and in an instant, my resistance crumbles away. That little voice of reason falls silent. I feel alive, as though I’ve burst into flames and my body is screaming to be with him.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him lower and deepening the kiss. He groans against my lips and lifts me in his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. His cock grows hard against me as my pink dress slides up my thighs, over my hips, and his hand slides along my ass, brushing between my legs and teasing my most heated parts.
He rocks forward, his cock rubbing over me.
His breath is hot against my skin as he trails his lips over my neck.
A gasp of pleasure slips from my mouth, and it seems to drive Emmanuil into more of a frenzy.
He pulls me away from the wall, carrying me away from my bedroom door—towards his.
He kicks the door further open with one foot and marches inside, throwing me onto the bed as he falls on top of me.
I grab at the buttons of his shirt, tugging them open.
He shakes his suspenders off his broad shoulders, his lips not leaving mine for a second. My lips are swollen with lust, and my body is humming with need.
Emmanuil shifts off me, standing over the bed.
I start wiggling out of my dress, and he shakes his head. “Leave it on. I want to fuck you in it.”
To my surprise, he unclips the leather suspenders from the waistband of his pants and snaps them against the palm of his hand. “Roll onto your stomach, ass in the air,” he commands.
My eyes flare wide, and my mouth drops open. My heartbeats quicken.
“Now, kitten,” he growls.
I move quickly, rolling onto my stomach, pulling my knees up, and lifting my ass into the air as I arch my back.
“Mm. Perfect,” he whispers darkly, tracing his hand up my inner thigh and softly slapping my ass.
I whimper, and the desire pulsing through me runs thicker and hotter. I arch higher towards him, glancing over my shoulder to watch him.
He slowly pushes my dress up over my ass, revealing everything.
He hooks his fingers beneath my panties, letting them brush over my pussy, dipping inside me, teasing for a moment before he pulls them out again.
In one swift movement, he rips the lace from my body and scrunches my panties in his hand. Pressing them against his face, he inhales, closing his eyes with satisfaction.
“I’ve been thinking about your scent all night, kitten,” he growls, his shirt hanging open and every perfect muscle across his stomach flexing.
