White Nights (White Nights 1)

Before I find release, he straightens behind me. I’m panting, dragging in air and swallowing drops of water. The smooth, hot crest of his cock nudges my entrance. The breath leaves my lungs as he slides inside, splitting me open. He’s excruciatingly gentle, taking his time to stretch me and circling my clit with a finger until my inner muscles relax enough to let him in all the way. He doesn’t start moving until I soften around him, but when he does, the pleasure is unbearable. Reaching behind me, I grip his wrist for a point of contact. I need to hold on to him when he makes me come undone. I’m almost there when he picks up his pace, but then he stills.

“Katyusha.” His voice is hoarse. “I’m not using a condom.”

I’ve never had unprotected sex, even though I’m on the pill. That it doesn’t faze me now should scare me, but somehow it feels right. Perfect.

“I’m clean,” he says raggedly, rubbing a hand over my back. “You have nothing to worry about. I won’t come inside you.”

I glance at him from over my shoulder, taking in his harshly handsome features and the need etched on his face. “No. I want you to.”

His eyes flare and darken, a possessive look coming over his face. “Are you sure?”

“I’m on birth control.”

That’s all the convincing he needs. Punching his hips, he pulls mine toward him. Our groins slap together, the sound of our wet skin reverberating in the steam-filled space. Every thrust he slams into me is a beat that keeps time with the harsh rhythm of my heart. In no time, my inner muscles clench around him. His cock swells inside me. He slips a hand around my waist and between my legs to help me get there with him—and I do. It’s not his animalistic groan or the heel of his palm on my clit that triggers my climax but the knowledge that he’s inside me without the barrier of a condom.

I come so hard I see stars. If not for his hand on my hip and the other cupped between my legs, I’d be sliding to the floor.

“Katyusha.”

The way he says my name sounds primal. It’s naked and stripped from pretenses, vulnerable and exposed, telling me what my body does to him.

He lowers his chest over my back and kisses my neck. From the way he sucks on my skin, I know he’s going to leave a mark, but even this seems right.

He nips at my skin and licks away the bite of pain with his tongue. Kissing the shell of my ear, he says, “I’ve never done that before.”

The confession makes warmth spread through my stomach. With a man as experienced as Alex, I would’ve thought there could be no more firsts for him. I’m glad it’s me. I’m happy I could give him this.

Straightening, he brings me with him and turns me in his arms. He kisses me again, taking his time to enjoy my mouth. I all but melt. I’ll never get enough of his skillful kisses. When he finally pulls away, I’m breathless again.

He cups my breast, lazily flicking his thumb over my nipple. “My beautiful Katyusha. You’re perfect in every way.”

I’m far from perfect, but I bask in the compliment anyway, nestling against his chest when he brings his arms around me and holds me tightly. For a moment, we just stand like this, exchanging breaths and warmth.

I mourn the loss of his heat when he puts distance between us to grab the shampoo. Squirting some into his palm, he washes my hair and softly massages my scalp. He does the same with my body, cleaning me from head to toe. He only washes between my legs at the end, leaving his residual release on my thighs for as long as possible.

When I’m clean, he turns off the water and hands me a towel. We dry and dress in silence. He shows me where he keeps a hairdryer, saying he doesn’t want me to catch a cold, and then he gives me a heated kiss and one last scorching look before walking out of the room.

Once more, I’m alone in his domain, colder since he’s gone. Unanswered questions churn in my head now that it’s no longer spinning from my orgasm. When the front door clicks shut, I move to the mirror to dry my hair. My neck sports a few blue marks, obviously left by fingers, and on top of one of those is a darker bruise—Alex’s hickey. It’s as if he wanted to erase the nasty bruises with a mark of his own.

I finish quickly, then go onto the landing and peer downstairs. The house is quiet and dark, except for the light burning in the entrance. Alex said Marusya will feed me breakfast, but without him, I once more feel like an intruder, one who’s ripped him away from his dinner guests by playing the damsel in distress. I can’t bear to linger any longer, not when I know what I have to do.