Page 119 of Fake Fae-Ancée

"We should really go home so you can have a lie down and…"

"Don't you dare stop now!" I hissed, closing his mouth with mine, and I could feel the predator in him rumbling and breaking to the surface. Tightening his grip around my thighs he yanked me forward, I sank backwards onto the counter, his broad, strong, heat radiating body caging around me, my mind unspooling, and I felt fangs in his kiss.

"You will be the death of me..." His voice was rough, his hot mouth kissed the base of my throat, scraping the skin. "My little star..."

I clutched his arms, groaning in frustration as he broke away from me once more.

"If you don't stop me, I'm going to fuck you right here on this kitchen counter," he said, his voice a short, pressed growl, the hard bulge in his pants pressing with strained urgency against my thighs.

"Duh," I breathed, my chest raising and falling, my pulse pounding in my ears, and that hot ache pooling between my legs contracted painfully around nothing.

He stared down at me like a hungry animal.

I wanted to be filled with him. Here, now, in this empty kitchen. In our new place. Where everything would start anew. I wanted nothing more than to be stretched and filled by him, wanted to feel his hot load spill inside me. The thought made me blush violently and so turned on at the same time, and a little gasp escaped me that had him growl again.

At least he had as much control as not to rip my panties this time — we’d had a talk about that. He couldn’t keep shredding my clothes every time we had sex; I would end up having to permanently buy new stuff — so he more or less carefully stripped them off my legs. Then, deliberately and deceptively slowly, he hooked his thumbs under the hem of my dress and shoved it up my thighs. And further up my belly. I arched my back, sucking in a breath as the cold air hit my bare skin. He pushed further, exposing me completely.

"Saints in heaven, you look delicious…" His guttural growl sent a churning shiver up my spine. Up and up he shoved my dress until my breasts popped free. I had given up wearing bras a while ago, to save them from being shredded. Now, my nipples were aching hard pebbles in the cold air. He swooped down with a wicked glint in his eye, sucking one into his mouth and had me gasping.

"All mine." He licked, nibbled and sucked, squeezing my other breast hard with one rough hand. I was dripping wet by now, rolling my hips against the hard bulge in his pants that was pressing against me.

"Please…" It came out as a rugged whimper. I needed more than the feeble friction I created rubbing against the bulge in his pants.

He rose, his eyes never leaving mine as he unbuckled his belt and his cock sprang free, making my breath hitch.Oh my god, it’s so fucking big…

He bent my knee up my shoulder, opening me as his bulbous tip stretched me and slid in.

"All mine."

A sound escaped me. An alien, raspy gasp, uncontrolled and visceral, as his long thrust knocked the air out of my lungs. And one more as he hooked my knees and spread my thighs apart, spreading me like a book, splaying me open in front of him.

"Touch yourself," he groaned and the drag as he pulled out of me made my back arch. "Let me see everything,my little star."

He thrust in, and in, and in again in a murderous rut, and I reached down, touching my clit and circling, squirming, shivering out of control under his ravenous gaze. The friction against my inner walls, his cock hitting that spongy, sensitive spot with every shove, chasing lustful pulses of electricity up my spine, had me unspooling. I came apart underneath him, gasping and twitching. And as the wave of pleasure built up inside me, as he looked down on me with that overwhelmed expression of dumb luck and feral hunger, as I reached out and touched his abs that were contracting and pumping in his own steady rhythm — I couldn’t hold it back any longer.

I had not dared to say it out loud again since our heart-to-heart months ago. Despite the new rings on our fingers and the divorce papers ripped into shreds, there was still that cold and slimy fear lurking in the back of my mind that this was nothing but another fleeting dream, another make believe story, and I would burst the bubble should I dare speak the words that kept bubbling up inside me more and more often.

Whenever he took my hand. Whenever he cooked me breakfast, serving me more French toast with that proud smile of his. Whenever he kissed the tip of my nose after I had beaten him in Zombie-Doom! Whenever he called me his little star.

I always pressed my mouth into a line and swallowed them down.

But it hit me, right there, pinned on the kitchen counter of our new home and I couldn’t stop the words from bubbling out.

"I love you…" I sobbed it as the climax ripped me away. He stared down at me, not stopping in his pace. "I love you so much, I’m sorry…"

There was so much more I actually wanted to say but couldn’t because any coherent thought drowned in the wave crashing over me and I came hard and whimpering in our brand-new kitchen, pulling Yuri with me over the edge.

* * *

"Well, I love you, too."

He said it into the silence that had been filling the kitchen for some time now. We were sitting on the floor, him leaning against the cupboard, cradling me in his arms. We were both halfway decent again, enjoying the postcoital haze. Laying nestled in his lap, cradling my head against his chest, I blinked at his words and looked up.

"Just in case you didn’t hear me, earlier," he added, smiling down at me. "You know, when you were busy screaming up a storm."

My face flooded with warmth at that, but I failed to get angry at him mocking me. I was too high on endorphins, fuzzy and cozy, and felt far too nice being held in his embrace, his body heat radiating through his still unbuttoned shirt.

"It was a pretty great storm," I said, unable to squash the smile creeping up my face.

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