Page 51 of Betrothed
So good.
So hot.
So…
And still he fucked me.
Longer.
Harder.
His breath skipping my neck and shoulder seconds before he bit just above my pulse, holding my skin in his teeth.
Telling me in no uncertain terms he had my life in his hands.
There was a moment when I knew when he was ready to explode, his muscles slowly tensing one at a time, his actions slowing as if his mind was trying to hold on. But as I’d experienced, there was no way to fight the inevitable, fulfilling something so insatiable it became the most powerful drug in the world.
His moan was long and deep and as I squeezed my muscles, I cinched my eyes shut. The bastard had stripped me of any capability of refusing him.
Taking me higher.
Taking me harder.
I’d been fucked in the ass before, but I’d never had an orgasm nor had I enjoyed with every ounce of my being.
Shock as my body began to convulse pitched me forward. Yet he caught me, keeping the full weight of his heated body against mine, his fingers stroking my pussy. I clawed his leg with one hand, twisting the fingers of my other in his hair as the high became even higher.
He was a maestro, playing my body perfectly, pushing harder until the ecstasy almost became too much to bear.
My skin was seared, my core scorched from the fire nearly consuming me.
Gasping, I couldn’t catch my breath.
But he refused to stop, slamming into me with such ferocity, I cried out as if in pain.
The feel of his cock as it throbbed, building, the heat consuming was even more intense. In those few seconds as the powerful man began to lose control, erupting deep inside, we were nothing but animals.
Savage, brutal animals.
“Yes, my sweet Vivian, you will learn to obey me. Won’t you?” His whispered voice was full of the same deep, guttural sound as when he’d fucked me, yet everything was different. Why?
Because the inflection screamed of something even darker.
Ownership.
After everything I’d done to forge a life of my own free of constant danger and politics, I’d managed to walk into a lion’s den.
There was no other choice but to do what Kirill wanted. None.
At least not now.
The question tickling the back of my mind was whether when the time was right, if I could do what was necessary to escape.
Only time would tell.
CHAPTER 12
Kirill
