Page 51 of Wicked Mafia Beast
"Not because of what you are." Her fingers trail down from the scar to my jaw, tracing the hard line of bone, the beard I haven't bothered to trim. Her thumb grazes the corner of my mouth and my lips part against her touch. "Because of what you make me feel."
"And what is that?"
She exhales, her breath warm against my chin. "Safe. You make me feel safe, and that terrifies me more than anything my uncle ever did."
The words crack open a space in my chest I didn't know existed. I bring my other hand up to cradle her face, holding her in both palms. Study her in the moonlight, every shadow, every sweet, delicate line. Even the slight tremor in her lower lip that she's trying to hide.
"You are safe." My accent thickens around the words, the Russian bleeding through, reshaping the vowels. "With me, you are always safe."
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
"I don't make promises I can't keep. That's why I make so few."
I lower my mouth to hers and brush my lips across hers once, barely a graze, the lightest pressure, testing. Her breath hitches against my mouth. I come back a second time, lingering, my lower lip catching hers, pulling gently before releasing. The third time, I kiss her fully, my mouth moving against hers with a tenderness that makes my own chest ache, tasting her slowly, deliberately, the way I'd drink good vodka, the way I'd savor the first warm day after a Russian winter. No teeth. No battle for dominance. No punishment. Just the slow, unhurried press of my lips learning hers as if this is the first time, as if every kiss before this one was just practice for the real thing.
She melts against me. Her hands flatten against my bare chest, palms pressing into the skin above my heart, and a sound escapes her throat. Not a gasp. Not a moan. A surrender.
I lift her. Her legs wrap around my waist, her arms circle my neck, and I carry her to the bed, lowering her onto the mattress with a care that would make my brothers question my sanity. The springs creak as I settle over her, bracing my weight on my forearms.
I take my time undressing her. Peel the t-shirt over her head slowly enough to watch goosebumps race across her skin. She's bare underneath, and the moonlight turns her body to silver and shadow.
"You're staring." Her voice catches, half-amused, half-breathless.
"I'm memorizing." I press my mouth to the hollow of her throat. "Every inch."
"That could take a while."
"I have time." I drag my lips across her collarbone, feeling the shiver that runs through her body. "For once, I have time."
"Kon." She cups my jaw, tilting my face up until our eyes meet. Hers are searching, uncertain, stripped of the bravado she wears during the day. "What are we doing?"
"I don't have a word for it."
"In English or Russian?"
"Either."
A shaky exhale. Her thumb brushes across my lower lip, then trails along the line of my jaw. "Then don't talk. Just... show me."
I trail my mouth down her body. Throat, collarbone, the swell of her breast. I close my lips around one peaked nipple and her back arches off the mattress, her fingers threading through my hair, tugging the leather cord loose until my dark hair falls around us both.
"Kon." My name again, breathy and broken, pulled from her chest on a moan.
Lower. My mouth traces the curve of her ribs, my teeth graze the jut of her hipbone. I learn the places that make her gasp and catalog every shiver and sigh that falls from her lips.
When I settle between her thighs and press my mouth against her center, she cries out and her hips lift off the mattress. I grip her thighs, spreading her wider, and feast on her with a patience I've never shown any woman. My tongue drags through her folds, slow and deliberate, circling the swollen bud at her apex.
"Oh God." Her fingers fist in my hair. Her thighs tremble against my ears. "Kon, please, I can't..."
"You can." I seal my lips around her clit and suck gently. "And you will enjoy every minute of it."
She comes against my mouth with a sob, her body bowing off the bed. I work her through every wave, gentling my touch as the aftershocks roll through her, until she collapses into the sheets.
I rise over her and shed my remaining clothes. She watches me through heavy-lidded eyes, her gaze dragging down my chest, my stomach, lower. Her lips part and her tongue wets her bottom lip.
"Come here." She reaches for me, her voice thick with want. "I need you closer."
I settle between her soft thighs and press the head of my cock at her entrance. Fuck, she’s so damn gorgeous and drenched. Her sweet pussy is swollen, the heat of her searing against my sensitive head.
