SEVEN DAYS

¦BOOK II¦- 33~ Heartfully Worshipped

With a silent moan of despair, she began to kiss him back, meeting his own lips, with a fevered pitch of her own, the entire crowd and her initial apprehensions of them melting away with every stab of desire coming at her. Her hand crept up his chest once more, as Mikhail's mouth slanted fiercely over hers... taking... giving. She surrendered to the ministrations of his rough, tender kisses, her lips parting beneath the sensual pressure of his. His tongue slid between them, invading her mouth and taking possession of her.

Lost in a stormy sea of desire, confusion, and yearning, Raven felt his hand splay across her lower spine, forcing her closer to him, and she slid her hands up over his shoulders, unwittingly molding her melting body to the hardening contour of his.

A shudder racked his muscular body as she fitted herself to him and Mikhail's arm tightened, crushing her to him, while his hand lifted, cupping her breast, his thumb brushing back and fort across her sensitized nipple while his tongue plunged into her mouth and withdrew, then plunged again and again in a wildly exciting, ever-increasing rhythm that drove her half mad with forbidden yearnings.

The endless, drugging kiss, the provocative warmth of his hands moving ceaselessly over her back, then possessively cupping her breasts, the taut strength of his legs and thighs pressing intimately against hers worked their pagan magic on Raven; she kissed him back with all the helpless ardor she had felt these last months, her shyness and uncertainties practically swallowed up by her desire to clasp him to her and experience the passion she once had, in his arms.

"Bozhe, ya ne znayu, chto ubilo by menya bystreye. Byt' bez tebya ili byt' s toboy" God, I don't know what would kill me faster. Being without you, or being with you. Mikhail whispered needlessly in her ears, his hands expressing those same words, as they travelled down her spine, the woman in his arms had turned to wildfire. It was a good thing then, that he was prepared to burn.

"Ty svodish' menya s uma, i vse zhe ya durak, ya vsegda nakhozhu sposob vernut'sya za bol'shim" You drive me insane, and yet fool that I am, I always find my way to come back for more

The only thing on Mikhail's thoughts was the fact that the woman in his arms was responding to his kiss with more ardor than she'd had in the past kiss, and God, the effects were devastating on his sex starved body.

When her tongue darted out to touch his lips, he crushed her to him, drawing her tongue into his mouth, while desire surged through his bloodstream like an electric surge; pounding through his loins.

He had to swiftly fight back the wild urge to lay her down on the cool, hard floor in front of everyone, and take her there and then. She deserved to be treated better than that.

He dragged his lips from hers and drew a long, unsteady breath, slowly expelling it. At this stage, he was breathing almost as hard as she was.

He slowly relaxed his arms from around her waist, giving her the space he instinctively sensed she needed, to process the fact that he was truly back in her life.

When she lifted her liquid emerald, green eyes to his, he swore he could kiss her again. Kiss her to stupor. Kiss her until she was every bit as drunk as he was, and then do so again. God, she looked so innocent. A part of him hated himself for tempering with that side of her. The innocent side. A part of him madly revered in it. She was his. His alone, to do as he pleased.

She turned her face sideways, away from him, and that was when he had the opportunity to truly look at what she had been wearing all along. Ever since he'd walked into the party, he'd been so drawn to her beautiful face, that he'd forgotten to look down at what she was actually wearing.

It was safe to say, that Mikhail Constantinovich actually saw red, for the first time in months. Not even T'Challa and his men with machine guns, had made him feel half the rage he was feeling right now.

"Mikhail, I've mis-"

"Raven, what the hell are you putting on? You would wear this to a party in my absence, and have half the elite population of the world, give a blatant stare at the goods you're freely offering? Real goods, are meant to be covered Bezumno besit' zhenshchinu. I have a mind to strap you across my knee, until your arse is numbed senseless and you can't walk without my help for a month, since you're so eager to give the crowd a show of yourself. We'll give them one. A show where you can't walk!"

Her hand whipped up and caught him across one hard cheekbone, the rage consuming her. But immediately she'd slapped him, she'd instantly frozen in dismay at what she'd done. Rage or no rage. You do not snap Mikhail Constantinovich in public. Ever.

With striking speed, Mikhail closed his fingers round that offending hand, and he slowly smiled. Which is the last thing she'd expected him to do, mind you.

"Sexual frustration should make you angry" he murmured finally, speculatively.

Beneath her strained and bemused gaze, he bent his glossy dark head and pressed his lips hotly to the center of her stinging palm. It was as if he knew that she'd hurt her hand, more than she'd hurt his face, when she slapped him. And the feeling of his moist lips pressed there, was insanely electrifying. It was as if every tiny bit of her body was suddenly programmed to overeact to everything he did.

"Mikhail, I think I've done enough of being the center of attention in this huge crowd, for one night. I want to leave this place. I'm sure every single thing that just happened here, will be placed on every single living, breathing magazine that's every existed from the beginning of the world till date. I'm not in the mood to give them anymore things to write more about-"

Pardon any typos. This is first draft. I haven't gone back to edit it. Don't forget to vote and drop your comments. Third chapter coming right up