Crash into Me: A BWWM Russian Billionaire Romance (8 page)

“I don’t need you to follow me to my car,” Emma said as they stepped out into the cool night air. It was just after eleven, longer than she usually stayed at the tavern, even on a Friday night, but then she didn’t usually have a companion.

“I’m not following you,” Alexei replied. “I’m escorting you.”

“I don’t need you to do that, either,” she insisted.

“Emma.” They were nearly to where she had parked, and when he said her name, she turned. He’d said it softly, his accent making it sound strange.

“What?”

Before she knew what was happening, he was very close to her, and god, he was tall. Clearly a couple of inches above six feet, which had him towering over her. She swallowed hard at that. Usually she hated when people tried to press their height advantage over her, and she always made herself seem bigger in response, but there was something...alluring about this. About him looking down at her with an almost fond expression, those dark eyes intent on her face.

“What?” she said again.

“Just…” he trailed off, but brought the fingers of one hand up to tip her face up more, seeming to search it for something.

Emma knew this was the part where she was supposed to bat his hand away, to tell him off for touching her without her permission, for touching her at all for that matter. She certainly shouldn’t have been stepping closer, caught in the moment. Her personal space was sacred to her, but there she was, leaning into him, gazing back up at that handsome face as if she were waiting to see what he would do.

He seemed to take that as tacit permission because he dipped his head and leaned down until their lips were just a breath apart.

Electric sensation shot through Emma and nothing had even happened yet. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed, and she found herself pushing up onto her toes as if she were desperate for it.

Alexei smiled at that, and then closed the distance, pressing his warm mouth against hers.

The first thing she registered was heat. It spread from where their lips connected out to her limbs. Without thinking about it she pressed closer to him, one hand resting on the breadth of his chest, feeling the definition of it under her fingers.

His mouth was soft and supple, lips brushing over hers lightly before turning a bit firmer, pressing and pushing, meeting hers again and again. It was relatively chaste as kisses went, but Emma could feel the breath shuddering out of her and could hear her pulse pounding.

Alexei’s hands went to her waist, and he hauled her just that bit closer, until Emma’s hand on his chest was the only thing between their bodies. She heard a noise like a whimper and realized seconds later that it had come from her.

It got an answering groan from Alexei, and his fingers tightened on her, allowing her to feel the strength and warmth of them through her clothes.

When his teeth grazed her bottom lip, she gasped softly and parted her lips, allowing him to lick gently at the seam of them before he was sliding his tongue into her mouth with amazing precision. It wasn’t at all wet and disgusting like she’d imagined most kisses of this variety were, and the heat that had been steadily climbing between them and in her kicked up another few notches.

His tongue touched hers, warm and wet and pliable, and she shivered, her own tongue sliding with his like it had a mind of its own.

They tangled and teased for a moment and then the two of them were pulling back from each other, lips lingering and breaths mingled.

“Well,” Alexei said, and his voice was low, husky and deep and sounding like so many sinful things that Emma wanted to give in to. “Do you want to rethink that bit about me going to your place?”

Something in his tone snapped her out of her kiss drunk daze, and she blinked rapidly, a blush spreading over her face. Thank goodness for the darkness of the night and her dark skin for hiding it. This wasn’t something she did. She didn’t kiss random men outside of taverns. Especially when she didn’t even like the man in question. And she most certainly did
not
like Alexei.

“No,” she said firmly, yanking herself back from him. “No, I do not. That was...I had… This shouldn’t have happened.” And she was striding the last bit to her car as quickly as she could.

Alexei didn’t follow her, though. He stood there in the small parking lot and watched as she got into her car and started it up. Then, he went back inside.

Emma let out a shuddering breath once she couldn’t see him any longer. She took a few seconds to get herself together before she put the car in drive and shook her head, determined not to let this rattle her.

As she drove past the tavern on her way back to the main road that would take her home, she could see Alexei through the windows, turning that charming smile onto some other girl who had been sitting at one of the tables.

Well. That was just fine. He could do whatever he wanted. She didn’t care. And she definitely didn’t want to be some interchangeable woman in his bed that he could swap out for any other woman that he wanted in his bed.

And so she cracked her knuckles and made her way home.

The only problem was that she couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.

Alexei had kissed her like someone who knew what kissing was about. Like someone who kissed because he enjoyed it and wanted the person he was kissing to enjoy it, too. And she had enjoyed it. Laying in her bed that night, long after midnight had come and gone, she was still thinking about it. Thinking about how good it had felt and how being towered over by him had made her feel heated all over with something that was definitely not irritation.

Giving up on sleep for the moment, Emma rolled over in bed and opened the drawer in her bedside table, fingers rifling through little odds and ends before they closed around what she had been hunting for.

The vibrator was black, long, and curved at the tip, thick and bumpy in all the right places. She already knew the batteries in it were fresh, and with a huff she rolled onto her back and hooked her fingers in her panties, sliding them down her legs until she could kick them off and onto the floor.

Already she was wet, the memory of that kiss, the phantom, lingering warmth of his lips on hers keeping her worked up and awake.

Emma spread her legs and slid a hand down her body, caressing her breasts for a moment and stroking over the skin of her stomach as her fingers headed for their destination. She ran her fingers lightly through the short, curly hairs on the mound of her sex and then parted her folds and slipped her fingers through the slickness there, teasing herself.

Her breath came in faster, shuddery bursts as she got more worked up, hips arching up a bit as she circled her clit with her index finger and then let it trail down to dip into her center where she was hot and practically dripping.

“
Ah
,” she moaned softly, toes flexing and curling as she bent her legs at the knee and planted her feet on the mattress, spreading her legs wider.

In her head, she played out a fantasy. She imagined that the hands on her were bigger, warmer. That when her free hand came up to squeeze one breast and pluck at the nipple that tipped it, it actually belonged to someone else. Someone with a deep, accented voice and an easy smile.

She twisted her nipple harshly, crying out softly at the way it sent pleasure zinging through her body, before moving on to the other one while her other hand kept working between her legs.

Emma imagined that it would be like this. That first he would tease her with his hands and maybe with his mouth. Working her up until she was making a mess between her legs and quivering delicately on the edge of her pleasure, teetering and so, so ready to fall.

He’d thrust his fingers into her like she was doing, one and then two, making her buck her hips as she took it deep and cried out for him. He’d use his other hand to rub at her clit, giving her so much stimulation. He’d kiss her neck, and whisper in her ear that she was beautiful like this, so soft, so wet. So ready for him. He’d ask her if she could hold on, and she’d shake her head because she was already so close.

She’d gasp out that she was going to come.

And then she’d fall apart, just like she was doing right then and there, her voice raspy as she moaned how good it was and the tight pressure exploded through her.

Once it was done she was left panting hard in her bed, fingers still buried inside of herself. It had been a spectacular orgasm, and yet she wasn’t finished. There was still that hard edge of arousal in her, though it was somewhat blurred and softened by having just come. But she still wanted more.

He’d ask for more of her, Emma was sure, and she fell back into her fantasy.

After all, he wouldn’t have come yet. His cock would be hard through the thin fabric of his boxers (made of silk or some other fine fabric, no doubt), maybe a damp patch where he’d leaked a bit from getting turned on by getting her off.

He’d smile at her and lift his head. “Can you take more?”

And Emma would nod eagerly, legs still spread, hips still pushed up like an offering. She was sensitive, and it was just this side of too much when he touched her, but she wanted him. Wanted more.

Emma took her vibrator and rubbed it in the mess between her legs, getting it slick before she turned it on, letting the vibrations roll through her.

Her mouth was open, wordless moans and cries spilling out of her. Before she could give into the temptation to just press the vibrator to her clit and get off that way, she slid it, inch by inch, into herself, tipping her head back against the pillows as the girth of it filled her up pleasurably.

“God,” she moaned, along with some choice swear words, drawing the toy out slowly, feeling each bump in the shaft as it slid out of her. She shoved it back in hard, the vibrations and thickness amping up the pleasure of it as she worked the toy in and out of herself.

She wondered if it would be like this with him. If he would take her slow and steady, give her time to adjust as he pushed in and slid back out, or if he would be rough and hard. If he’d pin her down to the bed and take what he wanted from her, use her body for his pleasure and drive her mad with her own at the same time.

She settled for somewhere in between for the moment, deep, hard thrusts that shook her to her core and kept a steady stream of whines and whimpers coming out of her mouth as she worked the vibrator inside her body.

Her free hand rubbed at her clit, circling and stroking it, making her spread her legs wider and roll her hips in rough circles, meeting her hand and the toy with each thrust.

“Yes, yes,
god
yes,” she panted as she was already getting ready to crest that wave into another orgasm, this one stronger and harder than the first.

In her mind, she heard his voice, urging her on, telling her she was lovely like this, so pretty when she was so close. Telling her to come for him, to let him see it, let him feel it. “Come on, pretty thing. Come for me. Come on.”

And with a soft scream, she did, shaking and shuddering as the pleasure bore down on her and made her shatter into pieces as wave after wave of sharp, delicious sensation crashed over her.

The vibrator made it keep going on for longer than it would have normally, the vibrations catching each fading wave of pleasure and amping it up into another one until she had to pull it out and turn it off because it was just too much.

Emma flopped flat on the bed and sprawled out, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, a little in disbelief. As someone who didn’t really do casual sex and who hadn’t been in a real relationship since college, she was plenty accustomed to getting herself off in the darkness of her bedroom at night or in the shower when she had time. But she’d never entertained a fantasy about someone she knew like that. Especially when it was someone she was going to have to look in the eye the next day.

She groaned and rolled over onto her side, too worn out to clean up or fret about it just then. At the moment, all she wanted to do was sleep.

Chapter 6: A Different Kind of Crash

It was surprising to wake up so clear headed on a Saturday morning. Usually Alexei would have a hangover and all the nausea and aching head that went along with it. But he hadn’t drank that much the night before, limiting himself to the two drinks he’d had in Emma’s company before he went home.

He hadn’t even ended up taking anyone home with him. The woman he had spent the rest of the night flirting with hadn’t been interesting enough to warrant it. So he’d gone home alone, stripped out of his fancy clothes and taken a long, hot shower. After the kiss he and Emma had shared before she’d left in a huff, it hadn’t been hard to conjure images and feelings that had him hard under the spray of water from the shower.

He’d stroked himself to a satisfying orgasm and then gotten into bed, enjoying a good night’s sleep for once.

For some reason, he was excited.

Even though he’d only spoken to Emma twice now, it was clear that each time had been very different, and he wanted to see what it would be like this time. Would she acknowledge the fact that they’d basically made out outside of the tavern? Would she be shy about it? Somehow he doubted it. She’d probably meet it head on and tell him that it was never going to happen again or something like that.