Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(57)

The moment the moan escapes my lips, I know I’ve got him.

Who knew seducing your own husband could be such a turn-on?





42

MISHA

Deadly.

That’s what she is.

All I can think as she pulls me down on top of her is, I’m fucked. I need to get out of here.

But there’s no reason I can’t have a little fun first…

Right?

I decide to kiss her before stopping this. One kiss, that’s all. But as I take that one kiss, her lips parting so soft and easy beneath mine, offering herself up to me like a meek fucking sacrifice, I change my mind.

One kiss…

Plus one taste of the rest of her.

Then I’ll walk out.

So I lick and bite and suck my way down her body. She’s putty in my hands, molding into whatever shape I put her in and staying there. “Such a good little kiska…” I snarl into her wetness when I reach it.

Then I lap up her desire.

She’s sweet and salty on my tongue, so real and delicious, so fucking mine that the taste of it alone almost throws me tumbling over the edge of the abyss.

Paige is moaning and tossing on the sheets, her thighs clamping around my head and releasing over and over again as my tongue and fingers bring her to an electric orgasm. I feel her hands tensing on the sheets, hear the cracking of her spine as she arches up before it breaks loose over her.

So now, I’ve had my kiss. I’ve had my taste.

But surely going just a little bit farther couldn’t hurt?

Before I know it, I’m standing up and shoving my pants down my hips. Freeing myself— fucking hell,

I’m harder than I’ve ever been in my entire goddamn life, my cock is pure steel—and then I’m balls deep inside her, thrusting hard while she bucks and writhes underneath me.

A series of decisions brought me here, each worse and more reckless than the last—but when her body is in my hands, it feels like fate.

Like her full breasts and generous hips were made for me to hold and taste and fuck.

I’m mid-thrust when her eyes flutter open. Those warm, trusting eyes that are begging me for things I can’t possibly give.

Her fingers snake up and down my torso. Her hips lift to meet mine. She’s panting and moaning incoherent noises that tell me everything I need to know.

This is good. This is right. This is how it should be.

Pleasure tightens inside of me, but I’m not through with her yet. I hook my arms under her knees and slide deeper inside of her.

She cries out, and I feel her tighten around me. The simple change of position is enough to rip her to shreds. The rhythmic pressure of her orgasm is intoxicating, the way she squeezes me, milks me, begs me to come along with her. The way her face twists in concentration and then relaxes?

That is ecstasy.

She circles her arms around my midsection, burying her face in my chest as I bury myself in her, letting my own orgasm go as it rides the coattails of hers.

I see stars.

Then I see blackness.

Only once the shadows fade from my eyes can I breathe again. I press her down onto the mattress and curl my hand around her cheek. She sucks my thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around me in a way that has me twitching inside of her, already blinking back to life.

There’s a sheen of sweat across her neck and chest, little diamonds I want to lick away. Her face is flushed and a gentle smile crinkles the corners of her eyes.

Then our eyes meet, and I realize there isn’t a single way we could be more connected.

Which is a fucking problem.

I remove my finger and pull out of her abruptly. I roll onto my back so the only thing I can see is the arched ceiling hanging high above us.

For a while—a long while—the only sound is our breathing as it slows back to normal. Then she rolls over and props herself up on her elbow so she can look down at me. I wince, bracing myself against what I know must surely be coming, the talk of feelings and love and the emotional infrastructure she thinks is necessary to keep this marriage alive.

But she surprises me.

“Thanks for the hummus. It was delicious.”

I snort, against my better judgment. “You didn’t eat much.”

“It was more than I’ve eaten all day. The nausea stopped only an hour or so before you came.

Flawless timing.” She combs a sweaty lock of hair from her forehead. “You seemed distracted when you walked in, though. Hard day?”

“I had some… unexpected issues to deal with.”

“Petyr Ivanov?” she guesses. I nod and she asks, “What happened?”

“He attacked one of our fronts. A small local business that I didn’t even know he knew about.”

“Was anyone hurt?” she asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Two of the boys who worked there. A few broken bones and some bruises. Nothing that won’t heal.”

She gnaws at her lower lip, frowning. “Are you worried that if he knows about this front, he might know about other things, too?”

I try to hide how impressed I am. Paige may not be very familiar with this world, but she’s already thinking like someone who was born into it.

“The more closely I work with a business, the higher the risk. But the laundromat was barely on my radar. If he's hitting that, everything is at risk."