Wicked Prince (Koalistia Bratva 4)

5

Manya

Iwas being selfish, and I knew it.

Every day it was worse, being in such close quarters with Papa Koalistia. Blood will always win out, he had said, and now it joined the litany of phrases that stuck inside my brain and repeated at the most random, inopportune moments.

“You handle him though, da?”

“A Sorokin marry a Koalistia, how? How do you lie with the man whose father killed your mother?”

“I love you.”

They tumbled around my skull like a cup of bones, banging against one another in that moment before the old woman would cast them. I wanted to scream and cry. Dmitry knew more than he let on; I was sure of it. I wanted to beat at his chest and demand he give me the answers to the questions I was too afraid to ask. I wanted to crawl into the warm strength of him until he was all that I knew and all I could see, taste, or hear. I wanted to be back in Russia, and that was something that I never thought would happen.

He brushed his nose along the side of mine, and all the words wound so tightly in my chest these last few weeks were now on the brink of release.

His hand was quicker than my mouth though. As he cupped the base of my neck and pulled me further into him, he stifled the acidic bout of explanation about to burst out of me. When his lips fell over mine, they were anything but gentle though.

He kissed me like the world was ending around us and it was the last chance he would have to do so, his mouth devouring mine and making me forget everything but the sharp, demanding bite.

My body responded instantly, and the water that had felt so cool at the start suddenly felt frigid due to my own temperature rising. He held me still by the base of the neck, his other hand smoothing down the small of my back. It lowered further still until I could feel the pads of his fingers against the curve of my ass, pushing into that lace that had shocked me so much earlier.

Seeing my reflection earlier and feeling his body’s response to it were two totally different things.

I wanted to make him moan into my mouth, to feel that erection I could feel pressing into my lower abdomen somewhere else entirely and—

“Oh,” I exclaimed in a shrill voice as he pulled my thigh up forcefully, curling my leg around his hip and pulling me just that much closer to where I had just been imagining.

The water covered our movements, and hopefully my wanton desire, as I pushed myself against him, reveling in the feel of our slick skin sliding against each another.I’d wanted to crawl inside the safety of him, but now all that I wanted was for him to be inside of me.

I hadn’t even realized we were moving until Dmitry was hauling us both back up onto the lip of the grassy overhang. The air was cold against my suddenly exposed skin, my nipples raising beneath the lace and my flesh erupting in goose bumps. “Dmitry,” I started to protest, lifting my hands as if to cover myself.

Eyes flashing, he pulled my hands away. “Nyet, Tigrenok, I want to see you.” His voice was low and throaty, and sounded like he was fighting the temptation to say more.

God, I wished he’d say more.

His words were like molten fire, moving through me and heating me through to my core even more severely.

He leaned me back into the grass and began to move his hands heatedly down my form. “It isn’tyoureyes that are the problem,” I breathed out, my voice shaky as I arched into his palms. The green and blue flakes in his eyes glistened fiercely in the light of the sun. I was lost in them, even as my brain tried to remind me about the old man back up in the house and all the people that worked for him.

His lips parted, his teeth peeking out from his dark smirk, and I almost arched my back up into him all over again.

Fuck if he wasn’t the most attractive man that I had ever seen. And he was mine.

“Didn’t you pay attention to your surroundings on the way down here, wife?” he asked smoothly. The amusement in his voice was overshadowed only by the desire that was so evidently encased in those words. “You think that they can see you? Did you forget the hotel window in Russia already?”

His words shot through me, calling to mind the memory he referred to and forcing my skin to flush intensely at the mere mention of it. It had been an unexpected rush, having him fuck me against the glass with all the world at our feet. I had known even then, logically, that no one looking up would be able to see us . . . but it had been thatwhat ifthat had made it so thrilling.

Dmitry’s hands lifted, palming the fullness of my breasts. His thumbs arched over the pointed tips of my nipples, pushing down into them and forcing a kind of choked inhale through my teeth. My eyes fluttered, my thighs spreading so that he could fit better between them, the friction of his wet swim trunks against my bikini bottoms almost too much.

“What did I say, Manya?” he asked, his voice tightly controlled. His grip tightened, squeezing the skin between his fingers as he tilted his head as if waiting for my answer. “Do you remember?”

“That you would have let the whole restaurant see me naked,” I whispered breathlessly.

His fingers shifted, pinching my nipples between them so suddenly and with such unexpected force that my shoulders jolted up from the grassy overhang. A rattled moan escaped me, quickly deadened in the air around me. He bent down until his face was directly above my own.

“I said, Tigrenok, to let them look,” he reminded me, the desire and severity of his tone giving me different reactions in equal measure—equally heated, equally responsive.