IT ALL HAPPENED so fast. He almost dived onto the bed, his knee between my thighs, and then his hands were on my cheeks and his lips met mine—

And suddenly, he was unleashed.

I’d caught those tiny glimpses. I knew there was emotion buried under all that ice. But I hadn’t realized just how long he’d been denying himself any real feelings. Years...decades. And I could feel every single second of it in how he kissed me. He needed me like a man twenty years in the desert needs water.

He was actually growling with the urgency of it, the sound coming from low in his throat and rolling up through our lips as he moved and pressed and spread me open, the tip of his tongue meeting mine. A crackling wave of energy rolled through me and I pushed up against him, needing to sit up so that I could kiss him back. We twisted, both of us frantic, never breaking the kiss. My hands found his shoulders, sliding under his jacket and over those thick, hard muscles, and we fell back onto the bed with me on top, straddling him. Then he flipped us over, my skirts rustling and fluffing between us, and he was on top, kissing down into me. We rolled and twisted, breathlessly kissing, until I had no idea which way we were facing anymore: I hadn’t opened my eyes for what felt like an hour. We wound up on our knees in the center of the bed, our bodies pressed together and our fingers intermeshed, kissing just as desperately as when we started.

He started to run his hands over me and it was as if he was touching me for the very first time, his palms smoothing over my shoulders and sides and hips and then back up to my breasts, exploring me even though he knew me so well….

I realized with a jolt that I felt like me. Not like I was being someone else. Was that why it felt so different?

He was mumbling something between kisses, his lips so close to mine that they stroked me with each syllable. “Ya khochu potselovat' tebya” He was so out of control, he was talking in Russian.

“I have no idea what that means,” I panted.

“I want to kiss you and never stop kissing you,” he muttered. “I want to fuck you and never stop fucking you. You’re mine, now and forever.”

My chest filled and lifted, a warm glow flooding through me. “...uh huh,” I panted, and kissed him hard.

I was exploring the hard contours of his back through his shirt. I’d been longing to touch him all week, but he never let me: my hands were always tied. Now I was going crazy: the more I touched him, the more turned on I got.

His hands found my breasts through the layers of dress and corset, squeezing and lifting them, his thumbs rubbing in circles over my nipples. We twisted again, the dress flaring out around me as I tipped sideways and across him, winding up lying across his knees.

I managed to push his jacket off his shoulders. Then, as I ran my hands over the warm bulges of his biceps, he leaned me back and kissed me again, one big hand running up and down my body, squeezing my breast and smoothing over my hip and ass, and the other—

The other hand dived under the layers of skirt, searching me out. I gasped as his fingers found bare leg, then followed it upward...over my knee...up my thigh...I gripped his shoulder with both hands, but not to stop him.

His fingers glided over my upper thigh...my inner thigh. I drew in my breath, his stubbled cheeks burning my palms as I grabbed him and kissed him, open-mouthed and hungry. God, it hadn’t felt like this since I was a teenager, fooling around with my boyfriend and from his breathing, he felt the same. My whole world narrowed down to the feel of his fingertips, scalding hot against my skin as they dared higher, higher...nudged up against the softness of my panties—

“God, I want you,” he growled.

“D—Do it,” I panted, light-headed and giddy with the thrill of it. After everything we’d done down in the dungeon, how could this feel like such a big deal? But it did, because...somehow, this was me.

His fingers traced my folds through the thin material, flattening my panties against my lips and God I could feel how wet I was. Then they hooked under the elastic at the side and... I drew in a shuddering gasp as he ran his fingers over me, rolling, and stroking my softness. I could feel myself opening. My eyes closed as our lips bumped again and his fingertips parted me—

“Yes,” I gasped.

And then the full, knobbly perfection of his fingers, sliding up into me, making me jerk and wriggle against him, my ass grinding against the top of his thigh. He kissed me and then pulled back a little, and when my eyes opened, he was staring deep into them, watching my reaction as he... pushed and then pulled back and God, pushed, the pleasure turning silvery and electric as he hooked his fingers and circled just there. I hooked my arm around his neck and dragged him down for another kiss, panting into his mouth as his thumb started on my clit. With my other hand, I fumbled for his belt, wrestling it open and then working at his fly. He shuffled his hips, helping me. This was so different from downstairs, when I’d had to be passive, when he’d always stayed dressed. When I wasn’t allowed to….

Touch. We both groaned as my hand wrapped around his cock. I’d only ever felt it touch me, not the other way around, and it was glorious: the hot thickness of it, the way it filled my hand. I stroked my hand experimentally along its length and felt his whole body come to attention. Another slow stroke….

Suddenly, he was rolling on top of me and trying to tug my dress down, desperate to have me naked. But the thing was held at the back by buttons. He rolled me over so that I was straddling him and groped with both hands for them, working his way down my back, pop pop pop. I was bending forward over him and I felt the neckline sag as it loosened, more and more of my cleavage becoming visible. And then he was frantically pushing it down over my shoulders and over the corset, and I twisted and kicked it down my legs, and finally I was free of it.

I panted, straddling him again, the feel of his cock making me go weak as it rubbed along the front of my soaked panties. I could see him staring at my breasts, the top of the corset only barely keeping them contained. He reached for them, but it was my turn. I undid his bow tie and started working my way down his shirt buttons, more and more of that gorgeous chest becoming visible. For the first time, I could really see him: solid slabs of smooth muscle, broad and thick and loaded with power, so much that I couldn’t resist sliding my palm across his pec, drunk on the feel of him. The blue-black of his ten-pointed star tattoos stood out bold and unapologetic against his tan skin. It was impossible to forget who he was, and I knew he’d never try to hide it.

I undid the last of the buttons and pushed back his shirt to reach his abs. God, I’d wanted to touch him here so many times. I rubbed over them in hungry circles, letting the heels of my hands ride the hard ridges and then lowering my head and kissing down the hard center line, nuzzling all the way up and between his pecs and meeting his lips as he bent down to meet me.

As we kissed, I could feel his hands on the back of the corset. During the party, the pain in my feet had made me forget how tightly I was laced and it was only now, as I felt him pulling at the bow, that I remembered. The laces went loose, his strong fingers wrenched the two sides apart and oh, the sudden rush of air as my lungs properly filled for the first time in hours. My breasts spilled free and he pressed his palms up against them, growling and cursing in Russian. “You feel so good,” he told me.

The corset was tangled around my lower back so I shimmied it down and off. I knelt there for a second, straddling his legs, in just my panties. His eyes had taken on that molten look, but even that was different to how it was downstairs: I could still see the blue and that emotion, that humanity, made it even hotter. His eyes were locked on me: on my face, on my breasts, on the damp scrap of fabric that was all that covered me. It was like he was seeing me for the very first time. And I felt different. I wasn’t being Christina, but I wasn’t just the old Hailey, either. He’d restored the confidence I’d lost.

I wasn’t hiding, anymore.

He reached for me but, for once, I was in control. I ducked back out of reach, hooked my fingers into his pants and drew them and his boxers down his legs, tugging off his shoes and socks at the same time. I dropped the whole tangle over the foot of the bed. Then I shuffled back up his legs...and wrapped my hand around his cock.

He drew in his breath and rose up on his elbows. Then, as I dipped my head, his eyes went wide in shock. “But—” he started.

I looked up at him and we stared at each other, the head of his cock inches from my lips.

He couldn’t put it into words so he used just one. “Golub!” Dove! He was saying: but you’re so innocent!

And I smiled wickedly, opened wide and engulfed the head of him, relishing the hot saltiness of him, the satiny touch of the head against my tongue. And he let out a stream of Russian curses and grew even harder in my mouth, his hips rising helplessly towards me. When I drew my mouth off him with a wet sucking sound, he was looking at me in utter amazement. Then his eyes narrowed and he stared at me with such blistering, unrestrained lust, I felt the reaction between my thighs. The thought that I was innocent, good, and yet also like that...apparently, that was the hottest thing ever.

With a yell, he grabbed my waist and twisted, flipping me onto my back and climbing on top. He stripped the shirt off his arms and tossed it away and then he was pushing my thighs apart, his cock hard and hot against my thigh. I could hear myself panting and I was shocked—and turned on—by just how much we both wanted it.

I was still wearing my panties. I hooked my thumbs in them to push them down but he just grabbed with one big hand, the fabric disappeared into his fist and—

There was a snapping sound as the elastic snapped and then I was naked. The tip of his cock, still shining from my mouth, brushed up against me and—

We both cried out as he filled me in one long thrust, the heat of him throbbing through me. It was so different, like this: I could feel his naked body against mine, could reach up and run my hands over him, could kiss him. I drew my knees up, soles sliding along the bed, and bit my lip in joy as he went deeper.

He began to thrust, his forearms either side of my head, that hard, tan ass rising and falling, driving him into me. At last, I could move, I could answer the building pleasure in my core, circling my hips and twisting around him as he plunged. He cursed and went faster, and every thrust, every silken stretch of him, notched the pleasure higher in my chest, until I was grabbing at his shoulders and back to urge him on. God, the size of him, the feel of those wide pecs stroking against my breasts, the way he crushed me into the bed just a little….

He sped up, his stomach slapping against mine, the base of his cock grinding against my clit at the apex of each thrust. The pleasure was starting to spin and compress inside me, building in energy like a hurricane. I drew him down to me and kissed him hard, lips bumping, teeth clacking in our urgency. My nipples were achingly hard as they dragged back and forth along his chest but I needed more—

I pushed up and twisted and he let me, rolling over with me so that I was on top. Both of us groaned as I leaned back a little, impaled on him, and his cock hit a new angle inside me. Then I began to rise and fall and he filled his hands with my breasts, stroking the nipples with his thumbs and then gently pinching them. I half-opened my eyes, my lips parted in a groan of pleasure. He was shaking his head in wonder. He’d forgotten how good it can be, when you let yourself feel.

I spread my hands on his chest, marveling at the hardness of him, the solid warmth of him. I used him to push against as I lifted and lowered myself, bouncing my ass against his thighs, filling myself with him again and again, the pleasure twisting and tightening, making me go faster and faster, until he suddenly grabbed me and rolled us, pinning me to the bed beneath him. He buried his cock in me and began to slam his hips into me, carrying me up to the edge. I could feel the climax thundering towards me. My legs wrapped around him, squeezing tight as he pounded and pounded—

He leaned down, his lips a half-inch from mine. “Ya lyublyu tebya,” he gasped.

The orgasm was right on me, my whole body trembling with it, about to release—

“I love you,” he translated.

And oh God as I realized…. “I love you, too.”

And then the pleasure exploded through me, my hips circling and thrashing as he ground down into me. I bucked and trembled, crying out, and felt him shoot in long, hot streams deep inside me.