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Lust overcomes his face as he picks me up off the bike, and I squeal. My legs wrap around his waist, arms circling his neck as I pepper kisses over the length of his strong jaw. I feel it flex under my lips, his teeth clenched so hard I think I hear one crack.
His path is straight to our bedroom, kicking the door open before kicking it closed and walking me over to the bed before setting me down gently.
“Are you sure, Moss?” He asks, concern written in his voice.
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Please,” I whine.
“You weren’t this sure about marrying me?” He taunts, his large frame climbing up my body.
“You know what I mean,” I whine, trying to pull his shirt over his head. Noticing my struggle, he sits back on his knees and rips his shirt off, letting me soak in the beauty of him.
The scars that litter his chest are reminders of his past, symbols of strength for his future. His abs are impossibly tight, flexing with every one of his movements. Ink covers his skin, a tattoo of a skull covering every inch of his stomach, the designs complicated and beautiful. “Like what you see, Moss?”
I deadpan, pointing to my swollen belly. He chuckles before leaning down to my neck, kissing and sucking the skin. I moan, arching into him and cursing this child for just pushing him further.
His kisses trail down my neck to my collarbone, over my clothed breasts, caressing my belly, giving it a kiss and a whispered sorry before I feel his fingers in the pants of my leathers. He inches them down my legs, his touch teasing and punishing at the same time.
He gets on his knees in front of the bed, grabbing my hips and sliding me closer to the edge of the bed. He places my thighs over his shoulders. I can’t see his face, so I can’t see the look on it.
I start to get self-conscious when he doesn’t speak and doesn’t move. I move my legs to get off him when his hands latch onto my hips, holding me in place before his mouth latches onto my clit, nipping at it.
He laps at the bud, inserting a finger in my core, making me moan even louder.
“Your moans are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” He growls on my pussy, the vibration sending delicious shocks through my body. My hands thread in his hair, gripping the strands as if my life depended on it. My body begs for another baby already when he moans.
I tighten my fingers in his hair, and he moans again. So he likes the pain, okay. I can work with that. His moans are fucking music, the deepness of his voice sounding like a monster ready to eat me. My fucking pleasure, Mr. Monster.
When he feels I’m needy enough, just on the edge of an orgasm, he pulls away, and I groan in frustration.
“I know, baby,” He rasps. He shoves his pants off his legs, stepping out of them before fisting his steel cock, pre-cum collecting on his head.
Before I have time to react, he plunges into me, his hips meeting mine. A groan pulls from the back of his throat, sounding animistic.
He pounds into me punishingly, every thrust being another unspoken promise. He grabs my knees, pulling my legs open even more and staring at where we’re connecting, watching his cock pump in and out of me. “You take me so good. You’re such a good fucking girl,” He groans.
I know he’s close to his own release from the way his chest tightens and his thrusts get more sloppy. His fingers circle my leg and reach my clit, toying with it, pushing me closer to the edge.
My body arches as I fall over the edge, the feeling of euphoria consuming my body. He cums a second after me, and his thrusts continue before he stills in me.
His eyes meet mine, full of unspoken words, yearning, and love for me. “I love you, Penelope.”
“I love you, Dmitri.”
He pulls out of me, eyes glued on my pussy as his cum spills out of me, dripping on the bed under me. “Someone will clean that up while we shower.”
His hands go under my armpits, helping me to my feet before he picks me up bridal style and carries me to the bathroom.
He sits me on the counter, my hot skin cooling on it. He turns around and walks into the shower, turning it on before making his way back to me.
Lifting me off the counter, he leads me to the shower, pushing me under the warm water as his eyes fill with lust and hunger. Yeah, I think I like this little life.
*This book is an advance reader copy and is to not be distributed anywhere. [email protected]*
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Chapter Thirty-Seven
Here Comes The Sun (Remastered 2009) - The Beatles
