Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

His and his alone.

“Leonida,” he groaned, not certain what he was demanding.

Not until she lifted her arms and plunged her fingers into his hair, dragging his face down for a searing kiss.

“Please, Stefan.”

He did not make her ask again. Cupping her face in his hands, he positioned himself at her entrance, then with one hard thrust, he penetrated her to the hilt.

She bowed beneath him, moaning in satisfaction as he stroked with an increasing urgency. His intention to be gentle was swiftly forgotten as her legs wrapped around his waist, her hips moving in time to his fevered pace.

“God, Leonida, you feel so good,” he panted, his heart thundering and his body clenched with his building climax. “So damn good.”

“Stefan…” Her words broke off with a cry of release, her eyes squeezing shut as she shuddered in bliss.

Stefan growled as he felt her tiny convulsions rippling over his erection. The exquisite sensation tossed him over the edge, and giving one last thrust his orgasm slammed into him. Time seemed to halt as he allowed his seed to pump into her womb with stunning pleasure.

Christ.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

LATER THAT EVENING, Stefan was in his private chambers in Vanya Petrova’s house, leaning against the window as he watched the sun set over the city.

It was a striking view, he had to admit. The golden domes glowed with dazzling beauty beneath the lingering rays and the carved angels appeared prepared to take off in flight.

A far different sight from the grime and soot of London.

Of course, a part of his pleasure with the current scene might simply be his overall sense of goodwill.

Although he had returned to Vanya’s two hours ago to bathe and change into a dove-gray coat and silver waistcoat with gray pantaloons, he was still basking in a glow of contentment.

Toying with the diamond stickpin in his crisply starched cravat, Stefan fondly recalled the afternoon in the arms of Leonida.

He had just reached the memory of their third bout of lovemaking when the door opened and Boris stepped into the room. Turning, he watched as the servant closed the door behind his large form, crossing the polished floor with a suspicious expression.

“You are appearing particularly pleased with yourself,” Boris accused. “I presume your luncheon went well?”

“It was…magnificent,” he murmured, frowning as Boris abruptly laughed. “You find something amusing?”

“I am always pleased to witness that daft expression on a man’s face. It proves I am not alone in my suffering.”

“Daft?”

“Like a man who has been hit upside the head with a shovel.” Boris reached out to pat Stefan’s shoulder with a smug smile. “It happens to all of us eventually.”

Stefan’s frown deepened, his warm glow threatened by a sudden chill. He had devoted an immense amount of effort to pretending his obsession with Miss Leonida Karkoff was something that would swiftly pass.

He did not appreciate Boris attempting to ruin his excellent fantasy.

“Nothing has happened beyond a pleasant interlude with a beautiful woman,” he retorted sharply.

“Ignoring the truth will not make it go away.” Boris grimaced. “To be honest it only makes matters worse in the end.”

“Enough.” Stefan shook his head, perfectly capable of ignoring any truth he desired. “Did you manage to get into Sir Charles’s home or not?”

The servant smirked, but he was wise enough to allow Stefan to turn the conversation.

“Surely you did not doubt me?”