Page 101 of Ruthless Sin
His other hand goes to the back of my thigh. Open palm. He’s not pushing. He’s just holding me so I know where his hand is.
I lean forward. The chain swings. Hits his chest.
His mouth is below mine.
I kiss him while I ride him.
The kiss is messy. Open-mouthed. His tongue against mine. The want off him is real and desperate and stripped of every wall he keeps up.
He moves with me. Slow. Restrained.
“Ty mozhesh’,”I say into his mouth.“Ty mozhesh’ dvigat’sya.”
You can. You can move.
He thrusts up into me.
I cry out. Not pain, not fear. Pleasure.
The sound comes out of my throat. Loud. Raw.
I don’t care if the household hears.
He nearly comes.
His face breaks for half a second. His jaw goes tight. His eyes squeeze shut.
“Eshche,”he says.“Pozhaluysta, Mila. Eshche.”
More. Please, Mila. More.
I move faster.
He thrusts up to meet me.
His hand on my hip tightens. Fingers spread. Gripping me hard for the first time.
I’m so wet I can hear it every time I move on him. So can he.
“Ty tak mokraya,”he groans.“Ty tak mokraya dlya menya.”
You’re so wet. You’re so wet for me.
“Good girl,” he says. “My good girl.”
His voice lands low in my stomach.
I move faster.
He matches me. Thrusts up into me with a rhythm that breaks my breath open.
It’s building. Low in my stomach. Tightening.
“Niccolò.”
His eyes fly open.
“Say it again,” he says, rough, desperate.
