Page 126 of Beautiful Forever
I trace the curve of her neck with a fingertip, and she shivers. “I think I’m up for the challenge,pevchaya ptitsa.”
Her skin erupts with gooseflesh, and it amazes me that I have that effect on her. How she immediately responds to my slightest touch. That something as simple as a brushstroke of my finger over her skin can elicit such a visceral response. It’s a heady realization that she wants me as much as I want her.
I capture this moment like a snapshot, memorizing every detail. The way her pale-blue eyes glaze over with lust. The flutter of her pulse point on her neck that gives away how fast her heart is beating. The rosy flush tingeing her cheeks and the dark pink of her bee-stung, kiss-swollen lips. The way her hair feels like silk between my fingers. Every inch of her takes my breath away.
Another sultry moan breaks free when my lips take hers once again in a kiss that is both punishing and tender. I’m claiming her, branding her as mine, my tongue fucking her sweet mouth because I can’t get enough. The taste of her drives me wild, the scent of her arousal makes me drunk, and the little mewls of yearning she emits…fuck me. She is every fantasy I’ve ever had of her come to life.
“You proved me wrong.” Her gaze drops, and she licks her lips.
My cock throbs like a heartbeat, wanting to feel her mouth wrapped around it. “Songbird.”
“Hmm?”
“Keep looking at my dick like that, and I’m going to fuck you on this kitchen island.”
In response, she parts her thighs wider, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of the paradise between her legs. Not able to resist the temptation, I run my hands down her thighs to her ankles and gently set her feet on the ledge of the counter. The pendant lights catch on the diamond dangling from a chain in her pussy. I give it a tug, and she gasps.
“Hendrix buy this for you?”
“Yes.”
Bending over her, I graze my lips over the bite mark on her inner thigh. “And this?”
“Yes,” she moans as I trace the bruised outline with my tongue.
I didn’t understand this dynamic between them at first, or why Syn would allow them to bite and choke her. Growing up, pain was used as a weapon, either to control or to teach. Nikolai would beat Mama to keep her submissive. He would torture Aleksei and me, claiming it would make us strong. But for Hendrix and Syn, they get off on pain. For them, pain is pleasure.
“I don’t know if I can give you what you need.”
Understanding, Syn’s blue eyes sear me with veracity. “I don’t need you to mark my body. I just need you.” Her legs tighten around my waist, and she frames my face between her hands. “We can take things slow. Go at whatever pace you need. I will wait a lifetime for you, Aleksander.”
I’ve waited my entire fucking life for her. I’m not waiting another second.
“I don’t want to wait.” She gasps in delight when I twirl the chain in her pussy around my finger. “What is this anyway?”
“Metal balls. The remote you destroyed made them vibrate.”
Hendrix loves his toys. I, however, like to do things the old-fashioned way. Pulling on the chain, Syn’s breath hitches as each ball slips out. “How many times did you come?”
It’s adorable how hard she blushes. “Three.”
“How much do you like this dress?”
She shrugs a delicate shoulder. “It’s not exactly the most comfortable thing to wear.”
Good enough for me.
Taking a knife from the butcher block sitting nearby, I slide the tip under the bottom hem. “I wouldn’t move,” I tell her, slicing into the thin, translucent fabric. It gives way like tissue paper as I carefully move the knife up. With a final flick of the wrist, the dress falls off, exposing her gorgeous breasts to my heated gaze.
Syn’s chest rises and falls with effort as my eyes devour every curve of her naked body.
“What are you thinking?” she quietly asks, a tint of arousal spreading across her chest.
Her nipples bead into the prettiest rosettes when I graze a finger down between her breasts to her navel, my thumb brushing lazy strokes back and forth across her diamond belly chain.
“How exquisite you are.” She responds with sensuous beauty as I explore the scars decorating her left side—a moan, a sigh, the way she trembles under my hand. “Can you feel me?”
A stuttered inhalation. “I do. I’m not supposed to. The nerve endings are damaged there. But I can feel you.”
