Page 221 of Cashmere Ruin

“Then lead the way,husband.”

He groans against me. “Fuck,kalina.”

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

He doesn’t even let me gawk at the expensive décor of the suite. Just presses me up against the nearest flat surface. “No. But if you keep saying that, I can’t promise I’ll stick to my plan.”

“Which is?”

“To worship every inch of your body.”

A shiver runs down my spine. “Better get to it then. Before you change your mind.”

He smirks, wolfish and hungry. “As you wish,moya pakhansha.”

Then he’s sealing his lips over mine.

It’s a deep, devouring kiss. It leaves me stranded against the wall, drowning in pleasure and heat, with not a single second to catch my breath.I’m going to die,I think helplessly as Matvey steals my oxygen again, and again, and again.This kiss will be the death of me.

But when we break apart, I just dive back for more.

I feel his hands on my dress, fighting off layers and layers of tulle to get to my bare skin. But this dress is mermaid-shaped, which means there’s very little space to maneuver anything down there.

“Wait,” I gasp. “Let me.”

I reach for a clasp at my side. It’s a hellish endeavor, trying to connect my last two functioning brain cells enough to work it loose. But the second I do…

My skirts flare, open and ready.

“Blyat’,” he curses against my neck. “Had that ready for me, didn’t you?”

“Actually, I had it ready for the dance,” I breathe under an assault of kisses. “But then it wasn’t really necess—ah!”

Pleasure sparks through me. With a single, swift move, Matvey frees my breasts from their cups and dives between them, biting each nipple in turn. His tongue is a hot, molten thing.

“M-Matvey…”

“Mine,” he growls against my skin. “Only mine.”

Yours,I want to gasp back.Only yours.

Then he drops to his knees.

I understand what he’s about to do a split second before he actually does it. “Matvey, that’s…!”

Embarrassing. Ridiculous. Corny.

None of those words make it halfway past my throat.

Because the truth is, it’s also hot as sin.

Matvey’s teeth clamp the lace garter around my thigh. I can feel his beard graze me all the way down, his canines scraping the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

When he emerges with the piece of lace in his mouth, I almost lose it. “What am I going to do with you?” I exhale.

He spits out the lace. “That’s the wrong question to ask.”

“What’s the right one?”