Page 56 of Mistaken
“Not too bad,” I’m struggling, trying to sit up. He helps me, putting pillows behind my back and pulling the blankets up to cover me. I notice his gaze drops to my breasts for a moment or two but under the circumstances… “I do feel like someone’s jabbing needles into the sides of my feet, but given the alternative I’m good.”
“You have some minor nerve damage from being wet for so long, your skates did nothing to protect you. The pins and needles are your nerves coming back online, so to speak.” His big hand is cupping my cheek, and it’s so warm. “What you did was very brave. Alexi and Lucya say they are forever in your debt for saving their little girl.”
Rubbing at my stinging eyes, I disagree. “If I hadn’t put my scarf on her, they wouldn’t have shot at her. They were targeting me, weren’t they? Man, your ex-girlfriends can hold a grudge.”
Maksim does not find my attempt at humor worthy of a grin, but the man is stressed, I can respect that.
“Yuri and two of our men caught the shooter. They’re questioning him now.”
I have a pretty good idea of what “questioning” really means, and I can’t help shuddering. Misunderstanding, Maksim tugs the blankets higher and pulls me onto his chest, rolling to his back, so every inch of me is pressed against his wonderfully heated body. “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised,” I venture, resting my chin on his sculpted pectoral muscle.
“How so?” Maksim put his arm behind his head, looking down at me.
Shifting uneasily, I can feel that crisp mat of chest hair tickle my breasts, barely covered in a thin tank top. “You’re the bloodthirsty, hands-on Pakhan, I would think you’d be… uh, wherever they’re ‘questioning’ the guy you caught. Unless…” a new thought occurs to me. “Oh, crap, you’re not hurt, are you? You got wet too, but did they shoot you, or-”
He smiles strangely, smoothing my hair out of my face. “I’m fine,????????,I had something… more important to do. Yuri and Fedor are very talented in this arena.”
“Is torture considered an arena?” Aaand, my big mouth just cannot keep me out of trouble, can it?
This time he laughs, shaking me slightly on top of him. “I am here because you very nearly died. Why didn’t you take hold of the scarves so we could pull you both to safety?”
“You know it wasn’t strong enough for both of us,” I said flatly.
His big hand is still stroking my hair, and it’s oddly comforting. “I’m selfish, I know this,” Maksim says, “but when the ice was collapsing under you, I wanted you to save yourself. I wanted you to live at all costs.” His eyebrows are drawn together like it’s physically painful to say the words.
Now I’m sitting up, straddling his narrow hips, “You know I couldn’t leave Yana. I couldn’t do that. Besides,” I smile, trying to lighten the mood, “I knew you’d save us.”
Pulling himself to a sitting position too, Maksim says, “I would like to kiss you.”
I’m waiting to see if there’s a question in there, until I realize this is as good as it’s going to get. But since I would like to kiss him, too, I lean closer. “Can I touch you with my hands?” Oh, here comes the existential dilemma, I can see it. But he leans even closer, close enough that when he speaks, it’s against my lips.
“My shoulders and arms.”
Now it’s my turn to whisper as my hands slide up his arms, my fingers trailing along his biceps. “Shoulder and arms,” I agree, “for now.”
Sex with Maksim at his St. John’s palace had been explosive. Incendiary. Something so good that I was reduced to single words, then mainly just noises by the time he’d finish with me. But while sex there was a tidal wave, here in this bed, it was like plunging into a hot spring, where the heat of him flowed over me, making my muscles relax, my legs loosen and it set aside so much of my anger, my resentment of what Maksim did to me.
His dark head was between my breasts, giant hands playing with my breasts, squeezing them, pulling on my nipples. He pushed them together, humming with pleasure and it shot a line of fire down to my center. I was stroking my hands over his wide shoulders, enjoying their smooth, sculpted musculature. Maksim’s cock was hard, pressing hot and heavy against my leg, so I rubbed against it.
Groaning, he looked up at me, those vivid blue eyes narrowed. “It’s been a while, darling. If you want me to last long enough to give you an orgasm, stop rubbing me.” He went back to my breasts, giving each nipple a long suck and a sharp bite before continuing down my stomach.
His words stuck with me. “You mean… you haven’t had sex since St. John’s?”
Maksim went up on his elbows, frowning at me for disrupting his debauching of my body. “No, of course not.”
“Oh, good!” It burst out of me in a flood of relief, I didn’t know what his plan was. Did Bratva men cheat on their wives? Would he cheat on me?
He had my ankles on either shoulder and he was running his tongue up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “This is the longest I’ve been without a woman since I was sixteen.”
I paused for a hopeful moment as his hot breath moved over my center, but he tortuously moved to my other thigh, sucking a bruise into the thin skin. “You mean…” it was really hard to concentrate when he was using his mouth like that, “it’s been what, two and a half weeks. That’s the longest you’ve gone without sex since you were a teenager?”
Maksim looks up from where his tongue is caressing the crease between my thigh and my lady garden. “Yes,” he says as if this is obvious and also unprecedented. “Now be quiet, I have work to do here.”
My giggles are cut off by his voracious mouth landing on me, and he sucks and tongues me like he is starving. Like he hasn’t eaten for weeks, and all I can do is cling to his shoulders and keep thinking,don’t touch his hair, don’t touch his hair, oh god this is amazing…He is relentless, sucking on my clitoris, flicking it with his tongue, slamming his arm across my hips when I try to wiggle away from the sheer, overwhelming intensity of it. Just as his thick finger slides inside me, I can’t stop the explosion that sets my lower half on fire. My thighs are pressed against his head, and I put my hands in my hair and pull to keep from touching his. I’m yanking hard enough to make my scalp sting, and the pain grounds me a bit. I don’t want to forget his rules and lose this moment.
“That’s one…” he murmurs, sliding his finger from me and painting a number one on my thigh with my own slick. It is so filthy that I nearly come again. This time, he’s using his tongue like a piston inside of me, and the movement has the tip of his patrician nose rubbing against my wildly sensitive clit. He pushes his whole face into me and I come again, legs stiff, toes pointed, shuddering and I cannot pull myself together. Maksim draws himself up on one elbow, painting a two next to the one and watching my slick and swollen center with interest, sliding two fingers inside me and his thumb sliding up and down between my lips and the feeling is so outrageous and his fingers are so high up inside me that I come. Again. This one is weaker but no less overwhelming.
“That’s three,” he murmured, painting another number with a finger wet from being inside of me.“Hmmm,” he hums thoughtfully, running his tongue up and down, “there’s nothing sexier than watching you come like this.” His words vibrate almost painfully through my nerve endings there and sizzle up my spine like electrical shocks. “I can feel you,” he groans, “you come so hard.”
