Rosalind
“Rose.”
He says my name like it’s a personal prayer as he lays me on his bed. Nikolai’s touch is infinitely gentle, his eyes glittering.
All I can see is him in the flickering candlelight, dancing gold and shadows across him, my hands spreading out on the crisp, white sheets.
He’s so handsome, so masculine. Beautiful.
The candlelight doesn’t soften the hardness to him, though; that’s a part of him that will always be there. Instead, it brings out the multitudes of him, his layers. Fuck, I want him.
I never don’t want him, not since… maybe since he kissed me that very first time. I want him now with an almost desperation.
I want it all, and I want to touch. It burns hot in me, that urge.
“Relax, Rose. Nothing will happen that you don’t want.”
I don’t know why, but his words somehow both calm and terrify me. Perhaps it’s because he’s handing me some power that I don’t know what to do with. “Nikolai, I…”
I don’t know how to find the words, so I don’t. He leans in and kisses me softly. I let go of the sheet and slide my hands up along his shirt, to his neck, and I wind my legs around him, cling to him, unable to stop it. Surprisingly, he doesn’t reprimand me or take my hands away, so I lift my fingers and thread them through his soft, thick hair, kissing him back.
This sweet kiss holds so much; the promise of a carnal adventure, a savage center I want, and all the answers to the dark secrets in my head. He’s delicious and spice and he’s hot and his tongue is a tease and my head spins.
When he pulls back, breaking the kiss, and steps away, out of my reach, it’s like he takes a piece of me with him.
Nikolai moves about the room, taking off his shoes and socks and emptying the pockets of his jacket. Then he comes back to me, stands back, and, keeping eye contact, starts to strip.
My mouth goes dry.
This is for me.
First, he slides off his jacket, tossing it to the armchair near the window. Then, he loosens and pulls off his tie.
There’s something about a man like him doing this, elegant, brutal, sensual, masculine, tattooed, that makes me ache deeper and harder than before. He slowly takes off the cufflinks and then, with a ghost of a smile, starts to unbutton his cream shirt.
My mouth is beyond dry. It’s so dusty, it might start watering. I know that thought makes no sense, but it’s true. The intensity of want and need on his features is somehow magnified by his deliberate, slow movements, and it echoes, that need and want, in every one of my own cells.
One by one, he undoes those buttons and tosses away the shirt.
That torso, with the sculpted muscles and abs, is glorious. With the flicker of the candles, the demons and angels and other tattoos seem to move.
Powerful. Perfect.
Erotic.
A thrill passes through me as he goes for his belt and pulls it off slowly. My clit throbs, blood pound in my ears as it heads south. I could have him strip for me every day and never tire of it.
He unbuttons his pants and pushes them down, along with his underwear. He’s so sexy, I can barely stand it. His cock is erect, thick, beautiful with a bead of pre-cum on the tip, and I want it.
I’m making little panting sounds that I can’t stop. I want him in my pussy, my mouth. I just want him.
The thing with Nikolai stripping is he did it for me, holding my gaze, cranking the heat in the room up to scorching, but he didn’t make a game of it, he didn’t exaggerate. No, it was just the impossibly deliberate move of taking off his clothes.
It was better than any strip show I can think of.
Now my want is so consuming, so intense, that I’m aching everywhere. I’m shivering, needing his touch, needing him, so badly that I might spontaneously combust.
Nikolai climbs on the bed and my heart goes crazy, my body a mess of desire that’s so strong, it almost hurts. He cradles my cheek, body on top of mine as he kisses me, the weight and heat of him somehow perfect with his gentle touch, with the sweet softness of his slow, lingering kiss that makes me fly.
I can’t help it; my hand comes to his face as he kisses me again, and then he turns his head, lips nuzzling my palm in a caress, tongue hot and wet on my skin. I throb, shivering harder against him.
It’s as if a fever has taken me, but it’s one I want more than anything.
That fever, the burn in my blood, means this is happening. It means he’s here, touching me, and a part of me slips down into that wild emotion inside me. Emotion for him.
“Rose,” he says in a whisper, turning to meet my gaze. “You’re so beautiful, so lovely, I…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he starts to kiss me, moving down. There are no bites, nothing hard or rough or demanding like before. This is different.
Everything’s been stripped away and it’s just me and Nikolai, my heart fluttering and dancing as I fall down into him, piece by piece. I want him, I need him. It’s burning hot in my bones. Desire. Lust. Something else. A softness inside, vulnerability that’s all for him. It’s almost what I thought falling in love would be like.
This isn’t love, but it’s something.
I’m drawn to him, want to willingly fall to his flame. His mouth and tongue are so sweet on me that the fever rises, and I want to cry. I’ve never… never felt like this, like I’m being worshiped, wanted, desired.
Loved.
He doesn’t. He can’t. I can’t.
Right?
Right.
That doesn’t matter. Only the emotions that consume and lick and dance in me matter. Only they are real.
“So fucking exquisite. Better than any dessert.” He kisses my throat. “Anything.”
His words slide and reverberate through me, and a hot tear slides free. I’m on the brink and he hasn’t even touched my pussy. He’s tasting and savoring, driving me right up there to that edge.
“Spread your legs for me? Please, Rose.”
Never-I swallow hard. He’s never done that before. Asked. It’s a revelation. I don’t hesitate: I open my body, my heart, my center to him, give him my trust.
His mouth whispers on me as he licks and kisses and tastes my pussy, my clit, and I’m shaking so hard, that orgasm I was on the edge of sweeps me up and I convulse. It’s only the beginning, I realize. There’s a bigger one he’s guiding me to. Bigger. Better. It’s there, at my edges, calling me with every lick of his tongue, suck of his mouth on my flesh. I just feel it, a buzz in my veins.
My fingers push in his hair as it builds. He’s working me different than he has before. This is slow, steady, hitting a spot just right in all the wrong and perfect ways, over and over again.
I’m crying, writhing, whispering meaningless words as I whimper and moan and beg for him to hurry, but he won’t. He doesn’t change a thing. Nikolai keeps at it, a slow and steady intensification of his tongue, lips, everything.
I want to shake apart, but every time I get there, at that very edge, he pulls back. He’s a tide, one that knows how to work me, and I’m begging, begging, begging him.
The litany of noises falling from me is nonsense but the meaning is thick in the air and finally, just as I’m there, he stops.
I’m trembling, on the highest of ledges. “No, Nikolai,” I whine.
He moves up my body, prowling, and kisses me. I can taste myself on his tongue as he nudges my legs further apart, his cock notching at my entrance.
“I’m going to fuck you now, Rose.”
“Yes…”
This is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for… After all this time…
But he doesn’t yet. He looks at me. Hard.
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes.”
“Rose, I need you to say it out loud. I need you to give that permission. You had a little wine, so…”
“Half a glass. I’m fine.” I swallow. The realization hits me: he’s not going to give me what I’m begging for unless I ask him straight out. Point blank.
That power crumbles into submission for him to take me, use me, do what he wants.
I take hold of his face in both hands and move to catch his gaze.
“Nikolai,” I say clear as day. “I want you to fuck me. I want you inside me. I want you to take my virginity. It’s yours. I’m yours.”
He brings his mouth down hard on mine, then moves from my lips to my throat, biting my pulse in a soft, sucking nip. Then he looks at me again, sliding his hand between us and grabbing his cock. I can feel both the tip of his cock at my entrance and his fist on my thighs. It’s an explosion of anticipation that I almost can’t handle any longer.
“Say it again, Rose. Do you want me to fuck you?” He sounds strained, almost like he’s the one begging now. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve every heard.
“Yes, I want you to fuck me. More than anything.”
He smiles, and he thrusts into me, hard and fast, right down to the root. A little scream slips out from between my lips at the slight pain of the sudden stretch. Even though I’m so prepared, I’m not at all for the girth of him.
Finally, he’s completely inside me.
We’re one.
He’s panting and so am I. I lift my hips to him, one hand in his hair, the other on his shoulder, and he starts to move, long, hard, steady strokes that turn from pain to pleasure quickly.
The man is controlled in his thrusts, and I bite his shoulder as he fucks me hard and powerful, like it’s his job, the thing he was born to do.
Ripples like tiny orgasms hit my bloodstream. He’s so big and new, and I feel myself clench tight in spasms around him. He bites my throat in response. The pain is sharp and sudden, making me gasp out loud.
“Fuck, Rose.”
He pushes into me, keeping it deep, full, steady. That big orgasm he promises is there. Waiting. I lift my hips to him again, wanting to help. He shudders, keeping his control. With each thrust, the pleasure in me grows and I lose myself in him, in the sensation of Nikolai inside of me.
As we move together, his control starts to slip, slamming hard into me over and over again. The bed rocks with every thrust, the headboard banging into the wall in a rhythm, and I come around him, finally. This time, it’s bigger, better, and I cry out. It’s not enough. It’s not that something.
“Fuck.”
Just one word from him, drawn from the depths of his bones, and he slips more, that control sliding away completely, and things go wild. It’s so glorious, and soon, I’m building back to that giant something as he hammers home over and over again.
This time when I come, it’s so powerful, it sets him off with me. The spurt of him inside me makes me convulse harder.
Nikolai collapses on me, wrapped about me, still inside. I’m shaking with the aftermath of the powerful orgasm, pleasure still washing through me.
What in the world just happened? That was so fast.
Thing is, he’s still hard inside me. I’m not sure how that’s possible, but I want more.
I wrap my legs about his waist out of instinct and he kisses me, first in slow, small kisses, then in deeper, stronger, more erotic ones.
He moves in me again and this time, it’s different. Instead of the snip of pain, I’m drowning in pleasure. Nothing makes sense except that he’s in me, I’m part of him, and we’re coming together slow and fast, intense and leisurely.
He rolls me on top and has me ride him, then pulls me down and pushed up in him. I grind down on him as he takes my mouth, his hips hitting my clit with each thrust. He turns us once more and it’s different again.
This time, it’s a dance so breathtakingly intimate, I lose myself again. I’m his. He’s mine. I open to him and we come again, somehow harder, better. After, when we’re done, I’m just… Lost.