Page 49 of Betrothed
“I’ll do what I want,” he said in passing, the usual arrogance that I’d found so attractive something that should annoy me now.
It didn’t.
“Then I won’t surrender to you.”
His growl resonated deep within, soft enough my ears tickled with the sound, loud enough to allow me to know he wasn’t used to dealing with a woman confronting him. He was well aware I had no choice in the matter, able to take me how and when he wanted, yet he was enjoying the game as much as I was.
When he released his hold on my neck, a wave of disappointment replaced everything else. But I should have known better. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. The sound of him lowering his pants created another illusion of near desperate need.
We both felt it. There was no denying the heat or the hunger.
“You should know better than to rile a man like me.”
“Why is that?” I managed while stroking his muscles.
“Because we create suffering.”
“Why would you want to do that? You’ll only suffer along with me.”
“Mmm… yes, but pain is often pleasurable.”
“Not when you can have what you crave.”
His sigh was heavy, breathless, and offering a promise. “That is true.”
While we were still in a vacuum, the sound of traffic below picked up in intensity, the sun cresting in the sky. The room was illuminated in bright orange, the warmth a strange aphrodisiac.
When he pushed me down again, I rose up from the bed, the anticipation of what he would do killing me. He knew exactlyhow to drive me crazy, keeping me on the edge until he finally rubbed his throbbing cock against my aching bottom. What wasn’t aching? Every touch had lit my body on fire, every kiss burning a hole right through me.
As the tip of his cock was finally pressed against my pussy, I held my breath. He took his time, pushing in only an inch. Then another. Then another. The fact he was taking his time, once again highlighting that inside the massive, powerful, controlling man there was some sense of decency was as offensive as how much my body and soul hungered for his touch.
How could I?
The question wouldn’t be answered on such a beautiful day. Whatever reason fate had brought us together was driving us into a situation we couldn’t back away from.
Including the intense hunger.
I was so tense I could no longer feel my legs and when he finally thrust every inch inside, I was lost in a sea of sheer joy.
When he pulled almost all the way out, there was such an emptiness that I whined in response. Words spoken in Russian were followed by another brutal thrust. Then another. Already out of breath, the instant he placed the tip against my asshole, I stiffened, a moan slipping past my lips.
He raked his nails down my spine while pushing his cockhead just inside. There was no other sound coming from him, the silence as unnerving as everything else.
I made up for the lack of noise with my heavy breathing while ripping at the bedding. Finally, another dark and dangerous chuckle allowed me to know he was still alive.
And very… very hungry.
With each inch driven inside, I was pushed further into being lightheaded, licking my dry lips to try to control anything. My body. My emotions. My reaction. Nothing was working the way it should, my muscles so stiff my chest was constricted.
“Ne nuzhno boyat’sya. YA ne prichinyu tebe vreda.”
“What? I gasped, clawing the sheets while still hoping to catch my breath. Yes, the guttural sounds of his native language were strangely soothing even in their reminder I was being held prisoner.
“I said there is no need to be frightened. I won’t hurt you.”
If only I could be so certain. Every brush of his fingertips pulled me into a quiet lull, every whispered word keeping me just on the cusp of sheer ecstasy. Another inch was pushed inside. Then he thrust the remainder into my ass and I threw my head back, gasping from the sight of vivid stars in every color of the rainbow bursting in my periphery of vision.
It was a cataclysm, a spectacle of light without sound, another freeing moment.
