Her breath came in hard little sobs. Pleas. More. More. She needed more. He gave it to her, swearing in his language. Yanking her head back so she arched her back. Moving over top of her to change the angle. All the while his hips continued to drive into her, the rhythm fast and steady.
Then he was swatting her, smacking her cheeks with his hand, each slap spreading heat across her bottom until the nerve endings sang, adding to the vicious need growing out of control inside her. She felt him swell, push at the tender tissue. She cried out, and then her sheath clamped down hard on him, gripping like a vise and then squeezing and milking, desperate for every drop of seed he had in him.
She felt the hot splash of every rope of scorching seed he rocketed to the walls of her sheath, triggering a series of orgasms. His body flung her into that place only he could take her and she collapsed, falling forward, her heart beating too hard, her breath ragged, and her body still pulsing, alive and singing.
Mitya went with her, coming down over top of her, pinning her to the mattress, his head on her butt. He turned his head and sank his teeth into the middle of his handprint, triggering another aftershock. A huge one.
She closed her eyes and hugged the sheets. Outside the rain poured down onto the roof. Inside, Mitya rubbed her red cheeks and then down her thighs and up her back until his breath slowed and he rolled over.
She turned her head to look at him. “That was incredible. I never thought I could ever do that. I enjoyed having you in my mouth. Not just enjoyed it. I loved it.” She had.
She had never liked it before, but she’d done it. She was generous to a partner, but having sex had never been close to what it was with him. Definitely, she wanted to try again, to see what else she could do. “You did that for me, Mitya. I was a little afraid, but somehow you gave me confidence.”
“All you, baby.” He rolled off the bed and went to the bathroom, cleaning himself and then returning with a washcloth. “It’s only going to get better. All of it, Ania. Give us a chance.”
She already knew she was going to try.
6
ANIA inhaled, taking in the wonderful aroma of the bakery. She hadn’t been out of her house for the last week. She hadn’t realized, until she entered the bakery, how isolated and lonely she had become never leaving her home. Watching Evangeline and Ashe serve their customers—their movements synchronized, as if they’d practiced them, never running into each other, like a wonderful ballet—made Ania smile. She’d been smiling quite often lately.
Every morning she’d visited with her father. Just having Mitya there had seemed to breathe new life into him. Mitya never allowed her to enter her father’s room unless he or Sevastyan was with her. She didn’t mind the decree because anytime she wanted to go in, Mitya always stopped what he was doing and immediately accommodated her.
She knew it was silly to hope. Antosha was dying and she had to keep that in her mind, but he’d seemed to rally these past few days. He couldn’t talk very well, but each morning, he smiled at her, definitely recognized her and held her hand when she chattered away with him. Sometimes his adoring gaze went from her face to rest on Mitya. At once his expression would change, and her heart would nearly seize at the look that would pass between them. She went into her father’s room often throughout the day, Mitya at her side. Mostly, Antosha slept, but always in the morning he was more alert.
Ania inhaled her latte and cinnamon-apple muffin. Evangeline looked up from serving a customer and smiled at her, a blaze of joy coming off her to welcome Ania as if they were old friends. She hadn’t been open to meeting or making friends until she’d met Mitya. He’d changed her life in so many ways. He made her feel as if he couldn’t do without her. He had no compunction about slamming her up against a wall and having wild, hot, crazy sex the moment they were alone together. It never seemed to matter to him where they were, he could suddenly bend her over a chair or take her on the floor