Kirill inhaled deeply. He breathed in the scent of jasmine.
Her hair. He couldn't get enough of its scent.
His inner voice kept saying things. He didn't do lover. He was a cold, cold killer. He didn't have feelings. He should back the fuck away now.
His arms were wrapped around her, his head atop her own. He closed his eyes.
The light was soft, her hair beautiful in the lamplight.
He didn't give a shit what his inner voice said anymore.
'Back to you
It always comes around, back to you
I try to forget you
Try to stay away
But it's too late
Over you, I'm never over, over you
It's something about you, just the way you move
The way you move me
Yeah, I'm so good at forgetting
I quit every game I play
But forgive me, love
I can't turn and walk away, this way
Back to you
It always comes around, back to you
I walk in your shadow, sleeping in my bed
With your silhouette
They swayed in perfect time to the music. Moving in sync. Stepping in tune to one another, orbiting one another. She was humming against his chest. The guitarist crooned into the microphone under the single dim spotlight.
Leave the light on
I'll never give up on you
Leave the light on for me too
For me too
For me too
Somehow both of them knew it was going to be that night.
They walked back to the car, his hand pressed to the small of her back. She got into the Renault without a word. He drove back to the bed and breakfast in silence, the tension between them crackling the air.
When they got to the apartment she turned on the small lamp, lighting the room with a gentle orange glow.
He took off his jacket.
She shrugged out of her cardigan.
She came over and helped him with his shirt, flicking off the buttons one by one. His lips found hungrily, kissing her ravenously as she undid the last of the buttons and pulled off his shirt.
He gripped her waist closer and she moaned as his mouth demanded more, his tongue delightfully hot. It stroked tortuously against her's, driving her crazy until she forgot about breathing. She finally pulled apart from him, gasping for air, her eyes blazing as she slid the top over her slim shoulders and above her head.
Kirill's eyes glazed over. Fuck, he thought.
A lacy red bra hugged two perfect breasts. The curves of them spilled out from the top of the red material, milk white with a glowing sheen.
He pulled her towards him. They stumbled onto the bed, picking off clothing in a frenzy.
He kissed her again, and took his time kissing her, but the more he did the more the ache in his loins overwhelmed him, consumed him. He wanted her, and he was losing it, badly. Every second longer into the kiss was making his head spin down into treacherous, uncharted waters.
Her skin was like hot, moving silk. He kissed her mouth again, tasting her, then pulled away quickly to press his lips against her jaw. He moved his mouth raggedly in a slow, torturous motion, tracing a line down her throat, and then he buried his lips into her neck.
She gave out a long, satisfied moan that made his already rampant cock impossibly stiffer. His fingers were moving against her skin, touching, exploring. He gave a small moan himself when he covered a breast. His hips thrust forward, his cock sliding painfully against her stomach. She felt so sweet, so soft in his hand. His mouth brushed over her lips again, and the kiss soon became frantic, his mouth bruising her's, his tongue sliding to meet her's eagerly.
Abruptly he broke the kiss, breathing heavily. His left arm braced his weight on the bed as he fought to gain control. If he didn't get a grip now, he would see red soon and the night would be brief- not the way he wanted it.
"Kirill?"
She breathed out his name, making his cock twitch more. He took slow, deep, inaudible breaths.
She was looking at him quizzically, but his eyes were wandering downward to land on perfect breasts, soft breasts…He firmly took himself by the eyeballs and stared into her liquid brown orbs instead, reaching out with his other hand to stroke the side of her face. His touch was searing hot.
"I want this to last," he said, gazing at her inexorably. "I want you to remember. I want to remember."
Her lips curved upward. His weight was warm, pleasant atop her own. He drove her mad. Tall, dark and handsome.
"We'll go slowly."
She nodded.
His lips covered her's again, sensuous but light. He spoke in Russian against them, tantalising words in his native tongue. It was lulling her. She felt sensual, yes, but safe and loved. He held her close, his strong arms wrapped around her, his body covering her's.
Only after some minutes did his tongue slide out, seeking entrance. She parted her lips with a sigh, her mind in a hazy fog. His tongue stroked her's lazily, unhurriedly, his body moving involuntarily to rock against her own. She whimpered, pressing against him, copying his movements.
"Shh, shh," he said huskily. "Slowly."
"I think you're going to kill me with your slowly, Kirill," she said in a murmur.
He chuckled against her skin, and she gave a little shiver.
"I don't intend to kill tonight."
Something ominous came over her then, though she knew not what. This vanished soon after it appeared, and all she could see was the green-brown of his eyes, feel the warmth of his weight, and urgency ran through her blood.
"Touch me, Kirill."
"As you command."
His voice was low and soft, so soft. She felt large, warm, calloused fingers stroke her arms, her back. She relaxed into his touch, her head lying back. Slowly, his hands stroked her breasts, the milk white skin trembling and puckering to his playing. She gave small sighs of pleasure, and arched her back towards him. Encouraged, he bent forward to finally taste.
She cried out as soon as she felt Kirill's hot, damp lips on her nipple. His tongue dove out hungrily, thoroughly pleasuring one perfect breast before turning to the other and doing the same, slowly and just as thoroughly. Her fingers were threaded through his hair, clutching the short strands as his mouth worked magic. This was all magic tonight. This man, his mouth, just- him.
He didn't stop until she was panting, and when he did it was only to crush his mouth onto her's, his lips hard, his tongue diving in, stroking and demanding and wreaking general havoc on her senses.
She was wet, really wet. She was more than ready for him, so when he did not enter he she whimpered again against his mouth and ground herself against him. He tore himself away again with a moan.
"Slowly, remember," he said.
"But I want you now," she whined. "I want you, Kirill."
He almost gave in, but willed himself to control. He'd spent most his life controlling his urges.
"So much more to come, princess," he said, his eyes smouldering. "Don't stop me now."
His fingers moved between her wetness as she gave a shocked gasp, instinctively clamping her thighs together upon his hand.
"Shh," he whispered against her ear. "Relax, relax."
He planted a soft kiss on her mouth, and her legs began to part, allowing his fingers to begin their exploration anew. She was gasping regularly now, in between breathy moans. His fingers were entirely wicked, so wicked as they stroked and played her until she was mewling like a kitten in heat. It didn't take her long to come apart, and when she did she gave a soft cry, golden veins of delight shooting through her blood, exploding and then sprinkling like raindrops.
When she'd come out of her daze he was looking at her, gazing at her, his expression gentle.
"You look amazing when you're in ecstasy," he said softly.
A rosy crimson started to creep over her cheeks.
"That was amazing."
"Da."
She frowned a little, and then a mischievous look came over her face. "Time for me to repeat the favour."
He shook his head. "Not tonight, my sweet."
"Why?"
Her almost hurt look made him crack a tiny smile. "You can kill me another night."
She chuckled. "Alright. Then make love to me."
His eyes flared with passion, lust and something else. He bent down to kiss her again, and this time he let the kiss deepen. His body ground against her's urgently, and he growled as her's moved against his just as hungrily.
He ground something guttural in Russian as his cock entered her soft sheath and he growled loudly as he buried himself completely within her. They moaned together, the feeling delicious, intoxicating, burning.
His muscles felt like they had caught fire as he sped up, his body moving against's her's, his hardness wrapped in her soft inviting flesh. They were both groaning now, the sounds echoing off the walls and high ceiling. He was slamming into her, his thrusts possessive.
"Mine," he growled into her ear. "You're mine."
Michelle had never had such erotic sex in her life. It was tender, but scorching hot. He was loving her, but marking her, claiming her, and it was the hottest thing she'd ever experienced.
They finally reached a crescendo, exploding together with exultant cries and moans. Michelle could feel her world falling in dizzy colours, her brain entirely warped. Kirill was clinging onto her, and she felt for a few minutes their entire beings were in complete and utter connection with one another.
They lay still for several moments. Minutes, an hour may have passed. It made no difference. Something momentous had occurred, and time had no way of measuring it.
Kirill looked up. He had been lying on Michelle's chest, and he looked at her peaceful face. Her eyes were shut. He wasn't sure if she was asleep or not. He kissed her sweat-dampened skin and rolled onto his back slowly, staring at the ceiling.
It had been awhile since he'd been with a woman. The last was…well, before Goa. Before Berlin. And the last times had been inordinately different. The woman in his arms, breathing his name, was the real deal. She meant something. That had meant something.
"You're religious?"
Her voice was soft, but not sleepy. She turned onto her side and looked at him.
He rolled to face her, his hands finding her face again, stroking the fair skin. "Where did you get that idea?"
"You said Jesus a lot while we were making love."
He chuckled softly, fingering her nose. "I may be moved to say that and other holy vows when I'm inside you."
"No vows," she said firmly.
"Why not?" he said, tenderly pulling her towards him and kissing her.
She whispered to him after a kiss. "Then you wouldn't be able to repeat what you just did."
"You want a repeat," he murmured in her mouth.
"Most definitely," she said as she kissed him again, rolling him onto his back.