His breath felt raw, his lungs burning for air. It was becoming a familiar feeling to him when she was nearby. Fire burned bright and hot, the flames licking over every nerve ending.
He wrapped his palm around her throat, feeling her heart beating in his hand. He continued sliding through her wetness with one finger, then brushed her clit, feeling her jerk beneath him in reaction.
“Tell me how that feels, Zelie. Do you like what I’m doing?”
Her gaze jumped to his, dark with heat. She nodded, giving him that. He read her body, but he wanted her to confirm she was growing desperate for him. He hadn’t even started, but she needed to be at fever pitch to accept him.
“It’s like the brush of a white-hot flame.” She whispered the admission. “Amazing.”
“Relax for me, Solnyshkuh. I’ve waited far too long to taste you. Kissing you sets up an addiction to your particular taste. I love the way you smell. I’m craving your unique flavor on my tongue.”
He lifted his finger to his mouth and licked, his eyes focused on her, needing to see her reaction, tongue curling around his finger, savoring the honey and strawberry spice.
Color crept under her flesh, turning her silken skin to rose. She came up on her elbows, looking at him with a mixture of apprehension and heat.
“I don’t know…” She trailed off, her gaze clinging to his, looking to him for reassurance.
He slid his palm from her neck, moved it gently over the full curves of her breasts to her belly, savoring the feel of her. She was as soft as any rose petal. Like silk. Splaying his fingers wide, his hand nearly took up her entire abdomen. He liked the way his hand, rough and scarred, looked against her skin.
“I promise, baby, you’re going to like everything I do to you.”
His gaze dropped to the scars on her body from the three bullets her brother-in-law had pumped into her when he did his best to murder her. One was very close to her heart. It was a testament to her strength that she had survived and to her indomitable spirit that she was such a bright, shining light.
Slowly, but relentlessly, he applied pressure until she complied with his order, letting herself fall to her back. Her gaze never left his. He loved her looking at him—to him—trusting him to give her pleasure when she felt vulnerable.
“Andrii.” She whispered his name.
His heart accelerated, ached for her, an actual physical pain. He knew what she saw. Lines of lust and the possibility of love were carved deep because he felt both. Desire was stark and raw.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he reassured her. “Just looking at you makes me hard as fuck. You can’t know what that means to me. Natural. Real. Someday I’ll tell you just what kind of miracle you really are.”
Maestro stood at the end of the bed, looking down at the woman he knew was his. His entire life had been one of betrayal by women. His gut, his every instinct, told him she was different. She would stay. She could put up with his bullshit and insecurities.
Azelie lay naked; her gorgeous body with its generous curves was his. She was giving herself to him. He wanted to spend hours devouring her. Savoring her. Convincing her she couldn’t live without him because he was that far gone already. He couldn’t live without her.
He wanted to spend time, hours, days, weeks, hearing her call his name in that soft little whimper she had, the sounds at the back of her throat that drove him mad. He wanted to make her come for him over and over.
She was on the verge of flight half the time, so wary, so afraid what was between them couldn’t be real. He knew her background, that the abandonment of her parents and betrayal of her brother-in-law had made her feel as if no one could really love her. He knew what that felt like—he often felt the same way. But how could anyone not love Azelie?
He started from the beginning again, kissing his way from her chin, down her throat, to the swell of her breasts. Soft. Silk. Perfection. He was lost in his exploration for a few minutes, giving himself the sheer pleasure of feasting on her, watching the way his tongue, teeth and the heat of his mouth kept tension in her coiling deep. He spent time at each of the scars, his tongue moving in a soothing, caressing motion, mapping them, holding her to him, savoring the taste of her, even as he memorized every inch of her body.
Maestro ran his palms from her belly to her thighs. Moved his hands down her legs to her ankles in a slow claiming. He wanted the shape and feel of her imprinted not just in his brain but in his bones. He wanted to know she would allow him to touch her anywhere they were. He wanted closeness with her.
When they talked, he wanted her in his lap. He needed to hold her close to him. Her kisses were pure fire, and he knew he’d never get enough of them. It was important to him to know she wouldn’t mind if he slid his hand under her clothing to touch her bare skin. That need wasn’t about ownership. He wasn’t an exhibitionist, nor did he want other men to think his woman was his plaything. He wanted respect for her because she deserved respect. He knew he would need to touch her intimately at times, to stroke his fingers along her belly or hips, but not where others could see.
At the same time, it would never bother him to have his brethren close, even if he was making love to her. That was something he would have to discuss with her. So many things he needed her to understand. So many things she would have to put up with. What was he giving her in return? How was he ever going to make the two sides of their relationship equal?
Very gently he tugged her thighs apart, keeping them wide enough for his shoulders. He had wide shoulders. Very wide. She was gorgeous. A beautiful woman in need of what he could give her. He was going to take his time, ensure she felt nothing but pleasure. He might not have a lot to give her, other than his protection and this.
“Bog, but you’re so beautiful. A gorgeous woman, Azelie. I have no idea how I got so lucky, but I’m not a stupid man. Fate handed you into my care, and I intend to keep you.”
He saw the sudden flicker of indecision creep into her eyes. He couldn’t have that, couldn’t allow her to think too much. This was about feeling.
“I wonder how many times I can make you scream my name,” he murmured, distracting her on purpose.
She shook her head, eyes clinging to his. “I don’t scream, but I might whisper your name a lot.”
She was serious. Somber. He bent his head to breathe warm air against her inner thigh. She gasped, and her leg jerked in his hand. He tightened his grip, holding her in place.
“Andrii,” she whispered. Just as she’d said she might.
He met her startled blue gaze and gave her a faint grin. One that said he was in control, and she might not scream his name, but she would be pleading for mercy.
He’d had enough of being alone, of feeling as if he wasn’t worth a damn. Azelie changed the way he thought about himself. He had no idea how, but he’d face death every single day to keep her.
“Stop making me wait,” she demanded. Impatience was there in her voice. Anticipation. The blue in her eyes had gone royal.
He decided it was about time to put them both out of their misery. Bending slowly, he pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh and gently sucked. Sipped. Whispered how he felt about her, so the sound was muffled against her silky skin. Just touching her bare skin knotted his stomach, putting a fist of desire so large there that he was shocked.
He didn’t feel sensations the way others apparently did. That had been tortured out of him when he was a kid. He’d had to be in total control of his cock because it was a matter of life and death—to him and his partner when he was learning. In one moment with Azelie, just inhaling her scent, just being close, simply observing her, his body came to life. Kissing her destroyed any control completely. They detonated together and his cock went into a frenzy of need for her. It was a little terrifying, as well as exhilarating, to feel as if he was truly alive.
He kissed his way up and down the inside of her thigh, occasionally stopping to suck gently. In places a little harder. He nipped. Swirled his tongue to soothe the brief sting. He wanted to leave his mark on her. He wanted her mark on his skin.
Azelie’s breath came out in a hiss of need. She squirmed. Shifted her hips restlessly. A little moan escaped when he tightened his grip on her thighs in warning.
“I don’t know if I can take this,” she whispered.
“We’re just getting started,” he warned.
