EVE
Eve had been kissed before.
Gentle kisses from Simon. Chaste kisses from boys in college. Sweet, forgettable kisses that were nice enough but never made her feel like she was burning from the inside out.
This wasn't a kiss.
This was a claiming.
Dimitri's mouth crushed hers, his tongue demanding entry, and when she opened for him...because how could she not?...he took. God, he took everything. The kiss was brutal, possessive, absolutely filthy, and Eve heard herself whimper into it.
His hand tightened in her hair, controlling the angle, controlling her, and she loved it. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, trying to anchor herself to something solid because the world was spinning and the only real thing was his mouth on hers and his hand in her hair and the hard length of him pressed against her core.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
"Last chance," he said, his voice rough. "Walk away now, and we forget this happened. Stay, and you're mine."
Eve looked at him...really looked. At the hunger in his silver-gray eyes. At the tension in his jaw. At the way his hands were still on her like he physically couldn't let go.
This man wanted her.
Not the perfect version she presented to the world. Not the trophy wife who smiled at cameras. HER. The messy, broken, drunk version currently sitting in his lap.
"I want to be yours," she heard herself say. "Even just for tonight. I want to be someone's. I want to matter."
"You matter," he said fiercely. "Jesus Christ, Eve, you have no idea how much you matter."
Then his lips were on her neck, trailing fire down to her collarbone, and his hands...oh God, his hands....were everywhere. Cupping her breasts through her dress. Sliding up her thighs. Finding the edge of her panties.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured against her skin. "Tell me to stop and I will."
"Don't stop. Please don't stop."
His fingers traced the edge of her panties, teasing, and she squirmed in his lap.
"So eager," he said, approval in his voice. "Did your husband ever touch you like this, cara mia? Did he ever make you wet?"
"I...." She couldn't think. Could barely breathe.
"Answer me."
"No. He never... we didn't..."
"Didn't what?" His fingers slipped beneath the lace, finding her slick and ready. "Fuck, you're soaked. All this for me?"
She nodded, incapable of speech as one thick finger circled her clit.
"Use your words, piccola. Tell me who makes you this wet."
"You. You do. Dimitri, please..."
"Please what?" Another circle, maddeningly slow. "Please fuck you with my fingers? Please make you come? Be specific."
"All of it. Everything. I want everything."
His laugh was dark, satisfied. "Greedy girl. I like that."
Then he was lifting her, turning her, positioning her so she was straddling him properly, her dress rucked up around her hips, her panties the only barrier between them.
"Look at me," he commanded.
She did, meeting those storm-gray eyes.
"I'm going to touch you now. Going to make you come on my fingers. And you're going to watch me while I do it. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes..." She hesitated. "Yes, Dimitri?"
"Close. But when I'm touching you like this, you call me something else."
"What?"
"Sir."
The word sent a bolt of heat straight to her core.
"Yes, sir," she whispered.
"Good girl."
His fingers found her clit again, and this time there was no teasing. He knew exactly what to do, exactly how to touch her, and within seconds she was gasping, her hips moving of their own accord, chasing the pleasure.
"That's it," he encouraged, his free hand gripping her hip, controlling her rhythm. "Ride my hand, cara. Take what you need."
She'd never done anything like this before. Never been on top, never been in control, never been with someone who told her to take instead of waiting for permission.
It was intoxicating.
His fingers slid lower, two of them pushing inside her, and she cried out at the stretch.
"So fucking tight," he groaned. "When's the last time someone fucked you properly?"
"I don't... I can't..."
"Can't what? Can't remember? Or can't think because my fingers are inside you?"
"Both. Neither. I don't know!"
He curled his fingers, hitting something that made stars explode behind her eyes.
"There it is," he said with satisfaction. "Your husband never found this spot, did he?"
"No..."
"What a waste." His thumb found her clit while his fingers worked inside her, and the dual sensation was almost too much. "I'm going to make you come now, Eve. And when you do, I want you to scream my name. Let everyone in this building know who owns this pussy now."
"Dimitri..."
"Not yet. Not until I say."
He worked her ruthlessly, bringing her right to the edge and then backing off, over and over until she was sobbing with need.
"Please," she begged. "Please, I need...."
"What do you need?"
"To come. Please let me come. Sir. Please."
"Look at me."
She met his eyes, and what she saw there stole her breath. Pure possession. Dark satisfaction. And something that looked almost like... reverence.
"Come for me, cara mia. Now."