The Marriage Ultimatum (City of Dreams Series) by Charlotte O'Shay

covered them both.
    His large hands cupped her rear and he brought her into delicious contact with his erection. The pointed tips of her breasts jutted into his chest. He lowered his head and took her lips in a deep kiss, his tongue mimicking the motion of his hips against her belly. He had to hold her up now because her legs crumpled like wet cardboard as he continued the assault on her lips.
    Abruptly, the water turned icy, and Sabrina jerked back in shock. Vlad caught her in his arms with a chuckle.
    “Come, little one,” he said, wrapping her in a towel and carrying her back to the bedroom. “The shower will be for another time.”
    He stood her up on the rug in front of the blazing hearth. He used the towel and roughly dried them both off, his hands lingering as they swept over her legs.
    He had brought up a plate of cheese and crackers that sat near the bed.
    Sabrina looked over at the snack and said, “I could’ve made pasta.”
    “Takes too long.” His eyes were intent on her body, and she felt her cheeks flame.
    He tossed the towel down and smiled.
    “What?” Her voice was a breathy squeak.
    It wasn’t easy to sound serious when you were stark naked. Her breasts blossomed ever fuller under his scrutiny.
    “Don’t know how I missed this before,” he said, bending to stroke a finger over the place on her right ankle where a tiny tattoo of the sun sat blazing yellow.
    “Oh, God, yeah, stupid rebellious teen. So cliché.” Sabrina’s felt a flush creep up her entire body.
    He kept a grip on her ankle and Sabrina was seriously uncomfortable and yet curiously turned on to have him crouched below her naked body looking up at her.
    “I have one, too,” he revealed, looking into her eyes.
    “Oh? Where?”
    Sabrina so overwhelmed by the size of him, the sex with him, somehow she had missed his tattoo.
    “You can tell me when you find it.”
    “So let me go so I can look,” she demanded, wriggling her foot. His large hand completely enclosed her ankle, and Vlad shook his head no.
    Then he proceeded to use both hands to stroke her legs upward from her ankles to her calves to her thighs to the indentation of her rear. He knelt there and the warmth of his hands as they slid ever upward caused her legs to begin quaking with sexual anticipation. In seconds, she lost her balance and collapsed in a heap in front of him on the rug.
    He nodded. “Now the playing field is equal.”
    His voice was a low rumble. He continued to stroke her from behind, sweeping his hands over the smooth velvet of her back and down again to the crease of her buttocks. When she would have turned, he held her before him and shortly replaced his hands with his mouth; trailing his lips over every inch of her shoulders, then down her spine. Smoothing her bottom with a light touch, he continued caressing—there was no other word for it—her thighs, her legs and her feet. He laved the tiny tattoo with his tongue and Sabrina felt herself wishing she were as inked as a circus attraction if it meant he would use his tongue like that all over her.
    “Da, moyo solnyshko , da.” He reared up, covered her breasts with his hands and started to pump with smooth strokes, picking up speed until she closed her eyes and let go as he sent them both into a sun-splitting orgasm.

Chapter 7
    No Place Like Home
    Sabrina awakened to the sound of outdoor activity, geese, sandpipers, ducks, and all manner of birds she couldn’t name. They’d taken refuge from the storm and now they called out to each other, excited to emerge from their shelters. The rain had finally stopped.
    The small lamp on the table was lit now so the power had to be back, too. Secretly, she knew she would’ve been happy for the storm to continue. Then she could stay right here in bed, in a town she couldn’t name, eating chicken noodle soup forever with Vlad. The natural beauty of this spot, the complete absence of other people and life as she knew it in the city was a gift she wanted