Read Online RUSSIAN WINTER NIGHTS by Linda Skye - Free Book Online

over her eyes, his rough fingers drawing her close.
    “Then let us make the most of the time we have left.”
    His next kiss was hungry and demanding, as if he wanted to capture and devour her whole. She responded with a low, throaty moan. When Ekaterina lifted her slim arms to twine around his neck, her lips hot and wet against his, Andrey reached for the laces of her corset. With a few sharp tugs, he pulled the bodice apart and let it drop to the floor in a bloom of dust. He spun her around suddenly, his hands sliding greedily over her bare skin. Ekaterina let her head drop back, and Andrey laved her neck with his tongue. Her breaths came in quick, almost anguished pants as a delectable, unquenchable heat climbed her belly. Andrey grabbed at her skirt, his hands disappearing to smooth up her thighs.
    “Andrey,” she begged, her breathing hitching in her throat.
    Grunting, Andrey gently bent her over his workbench, his hands guiding hers into grabbing ahold of the sculpture he’d just been working on. Hooking one arm around her waist, he pulled impatiently at his trousers. Then, he pushed up her skirts and hiked them up over her hips. Pressing his hot, throbbing member to her bottom, he leaned over her prone form and put his lips to her ear.
    “Are you ready?” Andrey asked, his breath hot and ragged on the shell of her ear.
    Ekaterina responded by grinding her hips against his and arching her back under his palm. Andrey gripped her hips with his hands and slowly pushed himself into her, his body shuddering with the exquisite sensation of her clenching around him. As he withdrew and thrust anew, Ekaterina’s back arched and her fingers tightened around the carving. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the dusty workshop, punctuated by their cries of pleasure.
    For Andrey, it was a fantasy brought to life to have the woman of his dreams bent over his worktable, writhing beneath his pulsing rhythm and crying out his name in rapture. He planted a line of kisses down the line of her spine, grinning as she shivered. His hands moulded to her pert breasts, and he rubbed her aching nipples with his calloused thumbs.
    Then, to his surprise, Ekaterina pulled away, and his shaft bobbed free. Andrey growled in frustration, but Ekaterina simply turned around with a brazen smirk. With two deft tugs, her voluminous skirts slid down her slender hips to pool at the floor around her feet. Running the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, she backed up and perched her bottom on the edge of Andrey’s worktable. Arching one brow with a saucy tilt to her chin, she gracefully crossed one leg over her knee. Andrey swallowed the lump in his throat as he grew impossibly harder. He leaned over her, planting his hands on either side of her hips.
    “I think your legs are in the wrong position, Ekaterina,” he purred wickedly.
    “Oh?” she teased playfully. “And how do you think I should be sitting?”
    “Let me show you.”
    Andrey smoothed his hands up her shapely calves, hooking his fingers under her knees. With a sharp jerk, he pulled her legs apart and pressed his hips to her core.
    “Oh,” she breathed, twisting her ankles around his waist.
    “I will make you remember me,” he promised in low, determined tones.
    Andrey grinned and leaned her back against the dusty table, sliding his open palm from her jaw to her breast. With a flash of teeth, he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt. Ekaterina arched off the surface, but Andrey pinned her hips down, relentlessly thrusting. He leaned over her, and she dug her fingers into his muscular shoulder blades. She inhaled the heady musk of his sweat, the chalky scent of sawdust a pleasant undertone. She scraped her teeth over his neck, relishing the salt on his skin. Then, he angled his hips just so and her world exploded in white spots. For an endless moment there was nothing but sweat, skin and the rasp of their breathing. And then he gave a primal cry, filling her with