The Master (The Game Maker #2)(77)

“I-I’m with you.” The double fullness below my waist made it impossible to focus.

“There’s no one else but me for you. Do you understand me?” Lifted up . . .

“I-I think so.”

Lowered down . . . “You know what you are now. Say it.” Lifted up . . .

Lowered—as far as I could take him. “I’m yours! Yours!” For how long?

His jaw muscles bulged, the tendons in his neck straining more than I’d ever seen them. “That’s right. You belong to me. Keep working your *, Katya.”

“Oh, yes!”

As I finger-f*cked myself, he glanced down and made that growling sound. “Just when I think you can’t possibly be sexier . . . You’re going to make me lose my mind before it’s all through, aren’t you?”

Up . . .

Down . . .

“About to explode, woman.” He gave shallow bucks of his hips in time with my busy hand.

“Máxim, I’m close!” With each thrust of my fingers, my * contracted more. “Make me come . . . make me . . . make me.”

“Fuck, FUCK!” Fingertips biting into my curves, he wrenched me up to the tip of his cock.

Heartbeats passed as I hovered, as he hovered . . .

I descended, seated; his seed erupted. Grinding up into me, his head fell back and a bellow burst from his chest.

When I felt his first shot of heat, I whimpered, almost fearing the strength of my own orgasm as the pleasure quickened and quickened and blazed—

Rapture.

Scalding me.

My core clenched my fingers. I threw back my head and screamed, “Oh, my God!” I shuddered and quaked, ecstasy ruling me.

“I can feel you coming!” His thick cock jerked inside me, pumping his essence.

I met his lips, crying out against them. Our tongues tangled as he emptied himself, and my mind turned over from the searing bliss. . . .

I collapsed against him.

“My God, Katya.” He brushed kisses all over my face, murmuring in Russian.

I adored his affection, shivering against him. “Gracias, mi amor,” I sighed.

“You thank me?”

I nipped his neck. “You like me when we get freaky?”

He gave a strained laugh. “You could say that,” he muttered, squeezing his arms around me so hard, I thought I would break.





CHAPTER 31




Early the next morning, I sat bundled in the window seat. Outside, snow fell like crazy.

Máxim slept on. I would get to spend the whole day lazing by the fire, snuggling in bed with him. With my wicked man. I shifted my position, feeling a twinge in my bottom, but it’d been so worth it.

He’d told me I was with him, that I was his—as in, we’d stay together! Maybe he’d gotten excited and said more than he should. Maybe he’d gotten as drunk as I’d been. Though now that I thought about it, I’d never seen him drunk. I shrugged. I’d know soon enough.

Before I crawled back in bed with him, I gazed out through the frosted panes, wanting to memorize every detail of this place. Two ice-covered twigs sparred—ping ping ping—outside the window. Winds began to blow, low moans that wrapped around the lodge and made it creak. Inside, the fire popped.

Such foreign sounds to me. This place was magical.

Being here with Máxim made me feel things so deeply. Apparently he did as well. I recalled his jealousy from last night with a dark thrill. . . .

Over the last few days, I’d realized that the reason I hadn’t yearned for another relationship wasn’t just because of my circumstances.

I hadn’t yearned because I hadn’t met Maksimilian Sevastyan. He was the yearning. I was in love with the Russian.

Done. Finished. Terminado.

And now that I loved Máxim, I recognized that what I’d felt for Edward had been pale and puny, informed by everything except my heart.

But Máxim was still a player. His longest relationship had lasted for fourteen days—and counting. If a man like him actually settled down with one woman, he’d want her completely in return. He’d expect her to be his. Legally, I still belonged to another.

Oh, me jodí. I was so screwed.

What I wouldn’t give for a do-over. For Edward never even to have counted.

The winds picked up even more, buckets of snow coming down. A real live snowstorm. A gust rattled the windows, the lodge creaking as if we were in a hurricane.

Máxim woke moments later, blinking at me, then slowly smiling—so handsome my heart twisted. In a rumble, he said, “Hey, baby.” He patted his chest for me to return to bed. I rose, dropping my blanket on the way and crawled in naked beside him.

When I laid my head over his heart, he grazed his fingers up and down my spine. “How long have you been up?”

“A bit. I’ve been watching the snowstorm.”

He reached down to lightly cup a cheek. “How are you?”

“I definitely feel what we did. And I regret nothing.”

He resumed stroking my back. “You never do.”

“That’s not true,” I said. “I just don’t with you.”

“Maybe you don’t remember everything.”

“My takeaway from the shower: Is there anything Máxim can’t do? It was wonderful. You were.”