Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
And then his other hand slid up my body, three fingers glistening in the low light, coated in the evidence of my complete and utter surrender.
I didn’t need him to speak to know what he wanted.
I obeyed.
My lips parted, and I took his fingers into my mouth, tasting myself, the sweetness laced with the salt of his skin, the smoke and sin of him bleeding onto my tongue.
At the same time, he groaned into my core, pushing me over again, dragging another orgasm from my trembling body.
I shattered completely.
Because at that moment, I wasn’t sure if he was feasting on me, or if I had become his.
My back arched hard enough to ache, my vision swam, and I moaned around his fingers, heels digging into his back, desperate to anchor myself in something—anything—but him.
How was it possible that I needed to come yet again.
The pressure inside me built and built, a relentless storm surging in my core, but this time I couldn’t release it. Wouldn’t. Not until he allowed it.
Kostya held me on the razor’s edge, dangling me over the precipice of pleasure, making me feel every agonizing second of the unbearable, devastating need. It was too much—too sharp—edging into something just shy of pain.
He made me confront that line, tested my limits, but wouldn’t let me break.
Sweat beaded on my forehead, my pulse hammered wildly in my chest, and my thighs burned from trembling so hard.
How was he doing this to me?
What did this mean?
How had I gone my entire life not knowing it could be like this?
How was I supposed to go on, knowing pleasure this soul-consuming existed, knowing I would never have it again?
“Kostya, please.” My voice broke, my body wrecked and raw. I felt the sting of tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. “Please, I can’t—it’s too—fuck.”
“Come for me, moy zaichonok.”
The words rumbled against me, against my slick, swollen flesh, sinking into my skin, my bones. That was all it took.
The dam broke.
A scream ripped from my throat as I shattered again, this orgasm crashing through me like a tidal wave, dragging me under, wave after wave of pulsing, liquid fire. My body spasmed, pulsed, clenched, soaking his fingers, his mouth, his skin.
“Good girl,” he murmured against my stomach, his lips tracing soft, reverent kisses up my body.
But I wasn’t satisfied.
The pleasure he had wrung from me had been brutal, earth-shattering, but it wasn’t enough. It had only deepened the void inside me, making me ache for more.
For him.
His cock, thick and hard, brushed against my trembling thigh, and a desperate whimper tore from my throat.
I needed him.
I needed him to bury himself inside me, to claim me in the way only a man like Kostya could, like I was his, like I belonged to him. The orgasm had been devastating, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing would be enough but him.
“Beg, moy zaichonok.” His voice was dark, filled with wicked command as he scraped his teeth over my nipple, biting down just enough that I jolted with the delicious pain, my body instantly betraying me.
“Kostya, we can’t,” I gasped, the words barely a whisper. It was the last thread of my resistance, a feeble attempt at sanity, even though every cell in my body burned for him.
“We can. And we will.” His lips brushed over my throat, his breath hot and heavy, promising sin. “But I need to hear you beg for my cock. Beg me to fuck you the way only I can.”
“Kostya, please.” The plea escaped before I could stop it, before I even knew what I was asking for.
My body needed him. My heart called for him.
But my mind…my mind knew this was a mistake.
He exhaled a dark chuckle against my skin. “Shh, babygirl. I have you. I will always have you.”
I didn’t know what was more terrifying, the way his words felt like a promise, or the way I wanted to believe them.
My leg wrapped around his hips, a silent surrender, and I felt him line up against my entrance, thick and throbbing, poised to ruin me completely.
“Kostya, we shouldn’t—”
My protest died in my throat as he thrust inside me, stretching me beyond what I thought possible, forcing my body to take all of him.
And God help me, I did.
The sharp sting of him stretching me, filling me, forced a tear to slip from the corner of my eye as he buried himself to the hilt. God, he was so big, and this angle, this ruthless, unrelenting claim, pushed him deeper than I thought was physically possible.
“Kostya, we can’t,” I tried to argue, my voice barely there, a futile attempt at resistance. My hands pressed against his shoulders, trying, pretending to push him away.
He silenced me with his mouth.
His lips crushed against mine, devouring my protest, turning my resistance into nothing but a muffled moan. His kiss tasted like him, dark, warm, spicy, but now, mingled with the taste of me on his tongue, it went straight to my head. Intoxicating, dizzying, breaking me down from the inside out.