Page 100 of Boardroom Ties
Then he pushes inside me.
It’s not gentle. He warned me.
But it’s not cruel, either.
It’s just what happens when all the paths are open.
He pushes inside me and bottoms out on the first stroke. Just like that, I lose my mind.
He sinks into me to the hilt, and the sound I make isn’t a moan so much as a punched-out, undignifiedohthat catches in my throat like it’s wrapped in barbed wire and stays there.
“Fuckingfinally,” he breathes against my temple. His hand fists tighter in my hair, just shy of pain. “You don’t know how long I’ve missed you, my dirty fucking girl.”
He pulls back. Slams home. The headboard knocks the wall behind it once, hard, and I think dimly that the Crispin’s bone structure is about to be put through its paces.
“You wanted to kill him for me, didn’t you?”
I can’t answer. I can only nod, eyes squeezed shut, mouth slack against his collarbone.
“Look at me when I’m fucking you,dikarka.” Another snap of his hips. “Eyes on mine.”
I drag them open. The blue is barely there anymore. It’s black, black, black.
“You raised a shotgun for me.” His voice is a purr, almost reverent, and so completely at odds with what he’s doing between my legs that I feel my whole body go hot with it. “Pretty little hands on a trigger. For me. For our baby. You think I don’t know how frightening that must have been for you?”
He shifts his weight onto one forearm and the other hand slides down to my throat. It rests there, thumb against the hollow under my jaw, like he wants me to feel that he could squeeze if he chose to.
“I’m Matvei fucking Satyrin,” he snarls. “And you’re my wild little filly. Mydikarka.Do you hear me? What’s my name?”
“Matvei.”
“Good girl.” He drops his forehead to mine. His breath is hot, ragged, citrus and coffee. “Again.”
“Matvei—”
“Again.”
“Matvei,Matvei?—”
“Good. That’s the only fucking name you say from now on. Not his.Mine.” His hips piston into me, slow and brutal. I’m opening and clamping around him at the same time. “When you wake up. When you fall asleep. When you put your hand on our baby.Mine.”
I’m clawing at his back. I can feel the welts forming under my fingernails and I couldn’t possibly care any less. Iwantthere to be blood to mark this moment. Every other moment we’ve ever shared has blood, so why not this one?
He hisses against my ear, pleased, and bites down on the meat of my shoulder hard enough that I yelp.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, not sorry at all, licking the spot. “I’ll be gentler next time.”
I think we both know that’s a damn lie.
He hooks an arm under my knee and folds me nearly in half, sliding deeper somehow. The new angle makes me see actual stars, little white pops behind my eyelids like flashbulbs. My nails find his ribs, find the pucker of the scar, and his whole body shudders.
“There,” he grits out. “Right there. That’s the spot where I almost died for you. Remember that,dikarka? Remember me bleeding all over you?”
“Mat—”
“I would do it again. Tonight. Tomorrow.” His mouth is at my ear, his thrusts going erratic, ragged. “I will bleed for you every day for the rest of my fucking life. Do you understand me?”
I’m crying. I don’t even know when I started. The tears are sliding sideways into my hair. He catches one with his thumb and presses it into his own mouth like he wants it.
