White Nights (White Nights 1)

“You mean this?” I wave a shaky hand at the gifts littering my studio.

He brushes his mouth over my jaw, the roughness of his stubble igniting sparks on my skin. “I’ve been patient, Katyusha. I’ve given you the time you asked for, but my patience is running out.”

My breath catches when his hand reaches the juncture of my legs. “We’ve long since passed the phase of me asking for time.”

“Is that so?” He nuzzles my neck. “Then what are you asking for now?”

It takes all the self-control I can muster to utter the words. “I’m asking you to leave.”

He cups a hand between my legs. “You’re soaking wet.” His voice is low and gruff, his lips ghosting over the arch of my neck. “Are you sure you want me to leave?”

“It’s the wine,” I say, almost swallowing the last word when he pushes the elastic of my underwear aside.

Brushing a thumb over my slit, he hums his approval as he finds me slick. “You can lie to yourself if it makes you feel better, but you can’t lie to me.”

Unexpectedly, he curls the digit and presses the pad of his thumb inside my heat. My whole body jerks as if he’s zapped me with a thousand volts. The need isn’t a lie, but it’s a weakness. I fight for strength, gripping his wrist to move his hand away, but when he sinks the length of his middle finger inside me, I all but melt into a puddle. If not for the wall at my back, my legs would cave.

“I want you,” he says in a deep, dark whisper that feathers over my ear.

I’m still clinging to his wrist as he starts moving his finger, pumping in and out at a leisurely pace. It only takes a few strokes to make me come undone. My resolve vanishes like mist, replaced with a hazy fog of desire that clouds my mind.

The final nail in my coffin is when he presses his lips against mine. It’s not a kind or static kiss. His lips are both gentle and rough, confusing me with promises of tenderness and dominant possession. He takes softly but wholly, invading the depths of my mouth and staking claim to my tongue as if he wants to consume every part of me.

My body reacts to the multiple stimulations, tightening in pleasure as he fucks my mouth with his tongue and drives me closer to release with his finger. I’m helpless against the onslaught—I’ve always been—and when he reaches between our bodies for the buckle of his belt, I don’t stop him. I return his kiss with fervor as he breaks down my defenses and steals his way back inside my body. There’s nothing left of my resistance as I thread my fingers through his hair and claw at him to get closer.

He groans deep in his chest, uttering his approval into my mouth with a muffled, “Fuck, yes,” and then he catches fire.

We devour each other, fumbling through layers of clothes. Somehow, he manages to free his cock and roll on a condom while kissing me. That kiss is the magic spell that keeps us in this dark place of need, and he doesn’t want to break it.

When he yanks my wine-stained dress up to my waist and hoists me up, I wrap a leg around his ass. He doesn’t even bother with removing my thong. He barely pauses to pull the elastic aside before tearing into me. He takes too much too fast, but I encourage him, lifting onto my toes.

He growls into our kiss, fastening his hands on my breasts as he bends his knees and drives home. The pleasure makes my insides clench, the burn making me moan. He swallows that sound and gives me more, taking me harder than ever, yet I’m still craving more.

We’re making out against the wall, fully dressed, soaked in wine and anger, and it’s the hottest sex of my life. If this is what angry sex feels like, I can handle the fights. Except the fights with Tony never felt this good. I wipe the thought away as soon as it forms. There’s no space for another man between us. That was the point Alex was making tonight, and I feel it as he drives it home over and over, pushing me ever closer to the breaking point.

My lower body tightens as his pace turns more grueling. The breath leaves my lungs with every thrust that shoves me up the wall. He rolls my nipple between a forefinger and thumb, and slides a palm over my stomach to the place that aches between my legs. When he presses two fingers on my clit, it’s over. I come without warning, spasming so hard around him that he falters in his rhythm.

He follows suit, dropping a curse into the kiss as he goes rigid and grows thicker inside me. The aftershocks keep my body in a vise of spasms, and he doesn’t stop kissing me until I go limp. Catching me in his arms, he holds me to him as he nips my bottom lip and kisses away the sting before finally lifting his head.