Page 18 of Altered By Fire (Undercover Sinners 1)
"Jesus," Hawke mutters, running his rough palms over the skin of my butt and squeezing. Hard. Hard enough to make me yelp. "You're just begging for it, aren't you Miss Petrova? Just look at how wet you are." His thick fingers trail over my heated core, and I moan into the pillow.
That brief penetration from Colt has me all kinds of worked-up, and I’m not above begging. In the bedroom, at least. I'd never, ever beg in a non-sexual situation; it just isn’t how I was raised.
"Please," I gasp out, and one of Hawke's long fingers slips inside me, teasing me.
"Please, what?" he asks, adding a second finger and slowly pumping into my dripping slit.
"Please, Hawke," I groan, desperate to lose myself—and my emotions—in a barrage of sexual pleasure. "Please finish what Colt started. Fuck me. I'm begging you."
"Well, when you ask so nicely …" His fingers withdraw from me, and I hear the distinctive sound of his belt buckle opening, followed by the crinkle of a condom wrapper.
"Come on," I demand, impatient as ever. I was raised the sort of girl who doesn’t like to wait for things, and that sometimes bleeds over into my sex life. Much to my previous lovers’ annoyances.
"Natalia, you are not in control here," Hawke informs me in a dangerous sounding voice. All the same, I feel the warmth of his cock press against my cunt, and I sigh with anticipation. "I am the leader of this team, and you are our prisoner for the foreseeable future." He leans forward, wrapping my long hair around his fist in a tight grip and tugging firmly. "Is that perfectly clear, Miss Petrova?"
Practically panting with need, I whimper out my response. "Yes, crystal clear, sir."
"Excellent." He purrs his approval, using his free hand to guide his cock a little further inside my aching core. "Now, Weston is about to begin Sunday Mass, and I want him to hear you scream. Can you do that for me, pet?"
"Uh-huh," I moan, feeling the delicious slide of his cock inside me. He's thicker than Colt, but I'm already so wet it isn't an issue. Once he reaches his limit, his pelvis flush with my ass, he grips my hair tighter and pulls my head back at an angle that’s just this side of painful.
Or maybe it’s just the other side. The lines are always a bit blurry for me, but either way I fucking love it.
"Good, I want to hear what those lungs are made of," he grunts, then begins to move inside me with hard, dominating strokes, dragging sounds from my throat that could rival any professional porn star.
"Louder," he commands, cracking his free hand down on my ass cheek and this time really making me scream. It hurts. Like, way more than the light spanking I'd had to practically bribe Kisten into giving me in the past. No, Hawke is a man who knows how to hurt someone, so this is a whole different ball game.
A game I look forward to mastering.
"You like that, don't you, pet?" Hawke pants as my cunt clenches his dick in a vice-like grip. "You like that little edge of pain with your pleasure, I can feel it." His hand cracks down again, sending a sharp sting through me, making me tense and then moan with ecstasy as the stinging fades to warmth. His punishing rhythm slows as my muscles tighten around him again, making it hard for him to move.
But like he just told me: I'm not in control. He is.
His hand comes down again, and my scream is loud enough to shake the crucifix above the bed. Or perhaps that’s from the rough pounding of Hawke’s hips against my ass. Either way, when the pain fades, I'm nothing but a panting, moaning mess, begging for more.
"Hawke," I gasp, pushing back onto his cock as his fingers grip a handful of tender flesh tightly. His other fist is still tightly wound in my hair, holding my head up at an angle that just permits me a view of the Virgin Mary statue on the bedside table. "I'm going to come."
My rampant sex life is not coincidental. I'm one of those lucky bitches that finds orgasming easy, even without any clitoral stimulation. Not that I'm ever against the extra attention.
"Make it loud." He growls the command, and I'm all too happy to comply. The fact that he wants Weston to hear us, while he's playing the role of priest … it's fucking hot as hell.
Prisoner or not, I'm in Heaven.
My screams echo through the little room, but Hawke doesn't release me. Not until he finishes himself some moments later with a roar and several bruisingly hard thrusts so deep inside me I can feel him hit my cervix.
When he does finally release my hair, I collapse onto the mattress in boneless exhaustion. Hawke's withdrawal from my body leaves me feeling chilled, and I roll over to watch as he snaps the used condom off and flicks it into a trash can.
