31. Chapter 31

31

Clara

T his is probably not what they meant by “take his breath away. ”

I press my lips together, cheeks puffing out like a demented chipmunk as I try to hold back another hiccup. My eyes cross with the effort, and I can feel my nose scrunching. The hiccup builds anyway, making my whole body jerk against him.

“ HIC! ”

His hardness throbs against my belly , and a sound rips from his chest—somewhere between a growl and a curse.

Sexy? Yeah, ‘cause hiccups are a total turn-on.

“You’re impossible,” he grits out, but his hands tighten on my hips.

“I hic know,” I manage, trying not to giggle as his jaw clenches. Even drunk, I know that look. The same heated look that got me into trouble five years ago. The look that gave me Elijah.

A smirk plays at his lips as he reaches past me, grabbing something from behind. When his hand comes back, there’s a toothbrush. “Open.”

I giggle—actually giggle—as he squeezes paste onto it. “You gonna brush my teeth for me, too, boss ?”

His cock twitches against my stomach at the word “boss,” but his face stays stern. “You’re not putting those vodka-soaked lips anywhere near me.”

I take the toothbrush, but my drunk hands make it more challenging than it should be. Minty foam dribbles down my chin. His thumbs stroke my hipbones as I brush, and I can’t tell if he’s steadying me or torturing me.

“You missed a spot,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on my mouth.

“Cree- hic -py,” I manage around the toothbrush, but my nipples tighten under his stare.

We’re standing toe-to-toe, almost brushing against each other. His eyes are locked on mine, dark and wicked.

There’s a first time for everything . The thought bubbles up from nowhere as I watch him watching me brush my teeth. The great Leonid Kuznetsov, feared Bratva boss, making sure I don’t choke on toothpaste. A laugh threatens to bubble up with my next hiccup.

I turn to the sink, needing a moment away from that intense stare. Mint and vodka swirl down the drain as I rinse. In the steam-clouded mirror, his reflection looms behind me, all scarred muscle and dangerous intent. His eyes meet mine in the glass, and my knees wobble. Could be the vodka. Could be the way his gaze is devouring every inch of bare skin, like he’s memorizing where he plans to put his mouth next.

His hand slides up my ribs, and my spine arches instinctively. “ Myshka ,” he growls against my neck, “I’ll fuck you in the shower.”

“ Hic ” is my eloquent response because it seems my body’s forgotten how to form actual words. Though, to be fair, it’s hard to be articulate when you’re naked and pressed against two hundred pounds of angry Russian sex god. The shower curtain scrapes against its rusty rod as he maneuvers us inside; water hits tile, changing rhythm as his body blocks the spray. I risk a glance all over him—

Oh, sweet baby Jesus on a motorcycle.

Water sluices down the valleys of his chest muscles, following paths between tattoos and scars that look like they were carved by something meaner than knives. One droplet catches my attention as it slides past his navel, down that thick length that is still pressed hot and hard against my stomach. I make a sound that’s somewhere between a hiccup and a moan.

“It’s hard for you, krasotka ,” he growls, but his cock jumps against me. “Suck it.”

“You’re not my boss,” I slur.

“ Nyet ,” he agrees, and I hear the smile in his voice—the dangerous one. “I’m much worse.”

I try to stand, I really do. But my legs apparently took a vacation to Drunktown without leaving a forwarding address. I sway, and his other hand catches my hip. My hands work on autopilot, reaching down to grab his throbbing cock. It feels hot and heavy in my grip, the heat from his arousal burning into my palms. Oh, fuck. It’s been so long. Too long. My clit pulsates in desperate hunger, my pussy practically drooling at the thought of being filled.

“Don’t worry about standing,” he whispers .

He pushes me down to my knees, a wicked grin on his face. I’m face-to-face with his monster cock, all glistening and veiny.

“Mmm…” My lips part, my tongue swirling around the head, tasting the salty pre-cum that’s already dripping from the tip. Oh God, I need him inside me. I start licking, sucking, devouring him like a goddamn nympho, swirling my tongue along the shaft, taking as much as I can into my mouth.

His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, urging me to take more. Instead of giving in to his commands, I tease him, moving my mouth lower to his balls. I trace circles around each one with my tongue, taking one into my mouth and gently sucking on it, twirling my tongue in lazy circles. My hand strokes his cock, my fingers circling around the tip, spreading his pre-cum over his shaft like a slick lubricant.

“Fuck, krasotka ,” he groans, his hips bucking forward, trying to get me to take him back into my mouth. But I’m in control, and I’m not about to let him call the shots just yet.

I stand up, our bodies pressing against each other, our breathing ragged and eager. With my free hand, I grab his wrist and push it down to my pussy, letting his fingers graze against my wet, throbbing lips.

My eyes lock onto his, my lips curving into a devilish smirk. “I hic want your fingers in me, deep and rough. Fuck me with your hand until I come all over it.”

The corners of his lips curve into a devilish smirk. But his eyes, smoldering with desire and dark with lust, fix on me as I stroke his throbbing cock from tip to base, slow and tantalizing.

“ Blyat ,” he curses, his breath hissing out in a guttural groan.

His fingers slide between my folds, coating themselves in my slick juices. I grind against his hand, my body begging for more. He slips a finger inside me, teasing me, rubbing against my G-spot.

“Leonid,” I gasp, the sound of my own cunt juices mingling with the running water in a filthy symphony. “Oh fuck, hic, I’m about to fuckin’ explode if you don’t— Hic. ” I can’t finish my sentence, my words swallowed up by a moan as his fingers piston into me relentlessly.

He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “I know what you need, krasotka ,” he growls, his grip on my hips tightening to make sure I stand still, his fingers leaving bruises.

“You need to be fucked. Hard. Rough. Until you scream my name like a goddamn prayer.” His words are interspersed with my deep, guttural moans as his fingers work my sensitive clit.

“ Jesus, you feel so fuckin’ good, Leonid, ” I pant, my legs shaking as my orgasm builds, aching for release. Water droplets cling to his chiseled chest and roll down his shoulders, his muscles popping like a goddamn road map of sexiness.

“ Make me cum,” I moan, my breath stuttering with a hiccup as he pushes me to the edge of ecstasy. My nails dig into his shoulder, another girlish hiccup slipping past my lips as I hang on to the last shreds of control. “Please… make me fuckin’ scream,” I beg.

He leans into me, the hardness of his cock digging into my stomach as I stroke him. Fuck, he is even harder now. I grasp his shoulder to steady myself.

“Fuuuuck ,” I groan, my voice breathless and needy, my hips bucking against his hand. “ Yes, Leonid… just like that.”

He responds, fingers driving deep into my pussy, pushing hard, then retreating, then pounding deep again in a relentless rhythm that has me begging for more.

“ Harder, Leonid,” I moan, my back arching against him, my nails digging into his skin.

“ You like that, krasotka?” he growls, his fucking voice driving me wild.

The world is spinning, my brain short-circuiting from the relentless waves of pleasure crashing over me. Whatever sense, logic, or even sanity I possessed before is gone, blown away by the hurricane of lust swirling around us.

“Fuuck, yes.”

His fingers plunge hard and slow, fucking me with a relentless rhythm that pushes me over the edge.

“Yes, yes!” I cry out, my voice echoing off the tiled walls as my cunt clenches around his fingers. The water splashes against the tub as my orgasm ripples through me, my body shaking with the force of it.

He doesn’t let up, his fingers pumping into my greedy cunt like pistons.

“Your tight cunt is fucking gripping my fingers like it never wants to let go,” he growls, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “Fuck, you’re insatiable.”

I’m a writhing mass of pleasure, my body vibrating with the force of his touch. I arch my head back, whimpers escaping my lips, my hair cascading down my back. Leonid takes advantage of my exposed neck, his lips pressing against my skin, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine.

His tongue traces a slow, sinuous path down my neck, and I whimper again, this time with a note of desperation.

“Fuck me. More, Leonid,” I plead, my voice breathy and weak. “I need more.”

“ Krasotka , I can’t wait to feel that pussy wrapped around my cock.”

He keeps thrusting, my moans rising in pitch as my body trembles with the aftershocks of my second orgasm.