Page 70 of The King's Pawn
“Sasha!” His name tears from my throat, broken and pleading. I don’t even know what I’m asking for—more? Mercy? Absolution?
He answers with another long, slow lick, eyes lifting to meet mine over the plane of my body. They’re dark and feral, full of something that looks a lot like possession. His fingers thrust deeper, his tongue flicking relentlessly until the pleasure coils so tight in my core, I can barely breathe.
Oh, God. I’m going to come.
The man who destroyed my world is the one unraveling me so completely, I might never be able to put myself back together the same way. The thought should terrify me. Instead, it pushes me over the edge.
I shatter with a sharp cry, my thighs clamping around his head as wave after wave crashes through me, my body pulsing around his fingers. He doesn’t stop. Instead, he keeps licking me through it, gentler now, drawing out every aftershock until I’m limp and trembling.
Only then does he ease me back down to the mattress, crawling up my body, his lips shiny with me. He kisses me deeply and filthily, letting me taste myself on his tongue. I moan into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.
My nails dig into his shoulder blades. More. I need more. I need him inside me, need to feel that devastating fullness, need to lose myself completely before reality comes crashing back in around me.
His cock slides through my slick folds, teasing. He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes searching.
“Tell me you still want this,” he rasps.
I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t… but my answer is already there in the way I tilt my hips, urging him closer.
“I want you,” I whisper back, the words a surrender and a demand all at once.
He surges forward the instant the words leave my lips, burying himself inside me in one deep, claiming thrust. The stretch is even more intense this time, after the way he’s already unraveledme with his mouth. I’m swollen and still sensitive, my core so wet that he slides in to the hilt without resistance.
The sudden fullness still steals my breath. “Oh…”
A low, guttural sound tears from his throat as he bottoms out, his forehead dropping to mine. For a heartbeat, we stay frozen like that.
His hands slide under my thighs, spreading me wider, lifting my hips to change the angle. When he draws back and drives in again, the head of his cock drags across that devastating spot inside me. I cry out, my nails raking down his back.
“Alina.” His voice is ragged. “Fuck—you feel…”
He can’t finish the sentence. He just starts moving, hard and steady, each thrust like he’s trying to imprint himself on me. The bed creaks beneath us, the rhythm building fast. Our breaths mingle in harsh pants, my moans rising to meet his low groans.
I wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back to urge him deeper. He obliges, pounding into me with a ferocity that borders on punishment, as if he’s trying to exorcise every accusation, every hate-filled glare I’ve ever given him.
His mouth finds my neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. The sting sends another bolt of heat straight to my core and I clench around him involuntarily. He curses against my skin, hips stuttering for a moment before he regains control and thrusts even harder.
One of his hands slips between us, thumb finding my clit again, rubbing tight circles that match the relentless drive of his cock. It’s too much, too soon after the last orgasm, but I can’t stopit. The pleasure coils viciously tight, climbing higher with every stroke.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I force my eyes open to meet his gaze. His eyes are wild, almost black, sweat beading at his temple, jaw clenched so tightly, I can see the muscle ticking. He looks wrecked and undone. So uncharacteristic of the man—the monster—I’ve come to know.
All because of me.
His losing himself in me, the man who controls my every waking moment… it’s a power that’s intoxicating to hold. How did I manage to get ahold of the end of his leash, let alone finding he has one in the first place?
The thought shoves me over the edge again.
I come with a sharp, broken cry, my back arching clear off the bed as my inner walls flutter and squeeze around him in rhythmic waves. He growls my name, his thrusts erratic now as he chases his own release. A few more deep, grinding strokes and he buries himself as far as he can go, body going rigid as he spills inside me.
I feel every spurt, every throb, and it drags my orgasm out longer until I’m shaking beneath him.
He collapses carefully, rolling us so I’m draped over his chest instead of crushed beneath him. His arms band around me, holding tight like he’s afraid I’ll vanish the moment he lets go. Our hearts hammer together, sweat-slick skin cooling slowly in the quiet room.
His fingers trace idle patterns along my spine. I press my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the salt and sex andsomething uniquely Sasha that I already know I’ll crave when this moment ends.
I hate him.
