Dirty Desires: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

“I-I didn’t ask for that.”

“I’m not saying it to make you feel guilty. I’m telling you who I am. I’m trying to paint a picture for you.” His dark gaze remained locked on me, and I knew I wouldn’t walk away either, unless he let me go. “You are scared?”

“Yes.”

“I am scared too. Terrified of what would happen, if we are not back together. And I hate that I need you this much. That I am so obsessed with you. That I am falling for you and cannot stop.”

There was a dangerous edge to his voice that delivered more shivers through me. Although he wasn’t close, I could feel the warmth of his muscular body. His scent—rich and masculine–filled the space.

He closed the distance, until there was barely an inch between us.

I didn’t edge back. How could I when I’d been yearning for his touch the moment I woke up without him? Barely a minute alone, I had already fallen under his spell and descended deeper with every oncoming minute.

“It has only been a short amount of time.” He inhaled me, licking his lips. “But I am addicted to you. Even if I could drop the habit, I would not.”

“I still need time.”

“Take all the time you want, but understand I am not going anywhere.” He didn’t touch me, but I could tell that he wanted to. “And sometimes. . .”

Panting, my chest rose and fell. “Sometimes?”

“Sometimes, I’m coming to taste you.”

I inched away.

He tenderly seized my waist and gently brought me back, but this time my body pressed against his. Like two puzzle pieces created for each other, our bodies molded together in perfect harmony. And he smelled so damn good. That masculine scent mingled with designer cologne. I longed to taste him, no matter how much I tried to deny it.

You’re letting him back in.

I drew in a shaky breath. No fear came my way. No terror. I wasn’t scared of him. I was turned on. Seduced. Craving him. And that smoldering gaze didn’t help. And the heat lacing his words snared me more. And my nipples betrayed me, waking up and stiffening.

My heart thundered in my chest. “Misha—”

“Do you understand?” He licked those sexy lips again. “I will give you space from time to time, but not for too long. You have my heart. You have trapped me. You have got me addicted. So I will give you your space, but I will come. And when I do, my mouth, my body, my cock, it will be all over you.”

Staring into that hauntingly handsome face, I whispered, “I don’t know.”

“It was not a question.”

I opened my mouth to protest.

Misha sealed his lips over mine, silencing my words. Stealing away any logic that might’ve come.

A soft moan escaped me.

The kiss was more than a distraction. It was my salvation. I’d been drowning all day. Distraught and depressed. His kiss anchored me. For the first time that day, I felt safe and secure.

My resistance melted.

The pitiful wall I’d build between us, crumbled into shattered pieces. Any fight I’d had, disappeared. All dread for our future softened into complete surrender.

The tender pressure of his mouth eased all doubt.

Misha. . .

Kissing him back, I raised my hands and grabbed his head, raking my fingers through his silky hair. He slid his tongue along mine. So slow. Savoring my taste as I feasted on his. There was no denying that I hungered for Misha and was probably more needy for his touch than he was for mine.

So tender, he brushed his lips over mine. He pulled back and groaned, “Ava, God, I have missed you.”

And with his mouth, he drank me in. This kiss blew me away more than the first. Misha tasted me like he was starving. My core came alive. Arousal dampened my panties. My poor leotard wouldn’t hide it.

His words were a growl of desire. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, Ava.” He lifted me up, carried me over to my vanity table, and sat me on it.

Trying to catch my breath, I whispered, “Misha, what are you doing?”

“Tasting you.” He devoured my mouth, before I could respond. And what could I say, when I craved him so? My head spun.

He spread my legs out further, got between them, and jailed me in his hold.

He ravished me.

I found myself pressed against the mirror. And I should’ve feared this devasting show of hunger. So wild, he’d overtaken me. But the same intense passionate soared throughout me too.

Misha’s hard and powerful body dominated me. He slipped his hands down my curves and then slid them to the space between my thighs. “You’re wet for me.”

Grunting, he used the other hand to pull me closer to him. I tugged at his hair and sucked on that skillful tongue. He took one of my hands and moved it to his cock, showing me how rock hard he was.