“I want you inside me,” I demanded.
He lifted his head. “You in a rush?”
“For you? Yes,” I moaned as his lips traced down my neck. He bit my collarbone.
“You want to fuck?” his voice was muffled against my neck.
His language was a surprising turn-on. Yes. I did. I wanted hot, messy, crazy sex with my fiancé, and I wanted it now.
“Yes.”
He sat back on his haunches and reached out a hand. “Come here.”
I scrambled to a sitting position, and he yanked me onto his huge thighs. “Climb on.”
My mouth was dry with lust. I awkwardly moved toward him, and gasped when he dragged me onto his lap. I went up on my knees, and I could feel him position himself between my legs. His hands went around my waist, and, slowly, he lowered me down.
“Oh god, yes,” I gasped, biting my lip.
He watched my face until he was completely impaling me. Eyes wide, I stared back at his perfect features, feeling awe that this man loved me.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he growled.
I managed to wrap my trembling, shaking legs around his muscular waist. The new angle created intense sensations I had never felt before.
“What position is this?” I asked inanely.
He smiled. “The wrapped saint.”
It was shockingly intimate. His hands were on my ass. I was open, and his cock filled me tight. He pulled my ass tighter against him.
Oh god, that feels good.
In response, I ground my hips, squeezing my legs around his back, pulling him tighter into me.
“Are you the saint?” I gasped.
“Not even close,” he said, moving his mouth against mine.
Our kiss was frantic, hot, and tinged with desperate desire as I squeezed my legs. It was less thrust and more grind, but for some reason, it felt hotter, more intense, more intimate.
My arms were wrapped around his neck in a desperate attempt to create more friction. He thrust his hips up, bouncing me on his huge thighs. Each time he did, a noisy moan escaped me.
One hand pulled on my ass. The other massaged my breast and tweaked my nipple while his mouth covered my neck, my jaw, my lips.
I was drunk on love, but I had never been more in the moment. I could feel the rasp of his stubble against my neck. His clean, masculine scent. The sensation of my body being completely filled by his huge cock. How hard he was, deep inside of me. His huge shoulders. The warm, smooth feeling of his skin beneath my fingertips.
With him, my orgasms came on without warning. This one was no different. It sucker punched me, leaving me arching back. His strong arms wrapped around me while I stiffly shuddered and twitched around him.
Then he was lifting me so I was on my back. Now he was kneeling between my legs. And thrusting. Oh god. Such glorious hard thrusts with his muscular legs. My feet, locked around his waist, bounced against his rock-hard ass as he pounded into me.
My next orgasm was even more intense. I cried out. A second later he buried his face in my neck, his thrusts almost violent. Russian poured out of his mouth as his body tightened and released into mine.
We lay there, both panting.
“Thank you for coming home early.” I was embarrassingly out of breath.
He pushed the hair off my forehead and smiled. “The pleasure was all mine.”
“I have a couple of rules if we’re going to get married.”
His look was tender, while his cock remained hard inside of me. “Tell Viktor what you need.”
“We need to have loads of sex, just like that, all the time.”
He laughed, and his mouth moved to my neck, kissing me in a teasing way. “That is a rule I think we’re already following.”
“The second rule is that I want us to tell each other that we love each other, even when we fight.”
“We don’t fight.”
“We might.”
He thought about it. “I will always love you, even if we fight.”
“And you have to tell me.”
He smiled as he planted another kiss on my eager mouth. “Deal. Any other rules for me?”
I captured his face in my hands and tried to think of the most ridiculous thing I could ask for. “I want Nanna to come on our honeymoon with us.”
He didn’t even flinch. “Done.”
I laughed. “I was kidding.”
He smiled down at me. “I wasn’t.”
I lifted my mouth to capture his. “And that’s just another reason why I love you so much.”
“Ninety-six sleeps.”
My eyes widened. “Until?”
“Until you become my wife.” I felt his cock grow bigger inside of me.
I decided to tease him with the words I knew turned him on. “Do you think you’re going to like calling me your wife?”
His cock twitched even harder.
His eyes dropped to my mouth. “You know I will.”
I like the dirty talk and being tied up. Viktor’s biggest turn-ons always revolved around me sharing my feelings and talking about marriage. “I can’t wait to be Mrs. Mikhailov.”
His hips involuntarily jerked, pushing his length deeper into me. His eyes held mine. “I can’t wait either.”
I felt my smile grow, all the happiness inside me spilling out. “You make me happy, Viktor.”
His voice was low and steady. “And you and that smile are my light.”
I gasped as I felt him shift, creating friction in the most sensitive part of me. “What does that mean?”
“Rule number one: no more questions.”
I laughed, but it turned into a gasp when his mouth latched onto one of my nipples and he started to suck with a rhythm that always sent me over the edge. “Remind me to ask about that later.”
I could feel him laugh, and then he lifted his head to smile down at me.
I gasped my question. “What happens in ninety-six days?”
His cock shifted deliciously inside of me. “You become my wife.”
“I become your wife.”
His kiss was demanding, fueled with both passion and love. I clung to him, crying out softly when he started to move inside me again.
“And you’re going to be my husband.”
He groaned, and I could sense he was fighting for self-control. I loved it when I managed to push him over the edge into an abyss of raw passion.
He lifted his head, his eyes bright with lust. “You are what dreams are made of.”
I gasped as he started again with deep, long thrusts. My husband-to-be knew how to fuck. “I can hardly wait until you’re mine.”
“I’m already yours, Blaire.”
And then our words were forgotten as he showed me, in a dozen different ways, how he belonged to me.
EPILOGUE
BLAIRE
“Did you feed Beatrice?” Viktor called from the mudroom.
“Yes.” I stood at the front door, watching as Viktor uncharacteristically rushed across the room and moved into the kitchen.
I couldn’t keep the glee out of my voice. “We are actually going to be late, and for the first time, it’s not going to be my fault. Remember this infamous day. I’ve been waiting my entire life for this day.”
He paused in his search and gave me a look. “You’re blaming me when you did that little striptease in front of me?”