Page 16 of Claimed in Sin
One final, deep thrust and I bury myself to the root, holding there as my cock pulses. Thick ropes spill into her, coating her walls while she clenches and flutters around me, drawing out every last twitch. I grind shallowly against her ass through the aftershocks, milking the last drops until my legs shake and the tension finally snaps loose.
"Holy shit," I breathe, not sure what just happened, but that was the best orgasm I've had in months.
I stay buried inside her, both of us panting, slick with sweat and cum. My hands slide up her back, thumbs tracing the line of her spine. She lets out a low, sated hum, still bent over the couch, her body lax and trembling faintly.
When I pull out she stays there, draped over the couch like she's a new piece of furniture, and I admit I could get used to this. I smack her ass hard enough to make her jerk, and my cum squirts from her pussy, draining down toward her toes.
"God, ouch," she says playfully, finally standing up.
"Come with me," I tell her, taking her hand. She pushes the hair out of her face, but she follows me down the dark hallway to the bedroom where our fighters usually sleep.
"I can’t stay the night, Stepan. My family?—"
"Just for a while," I tell her, kissing her knuckles.
Marina smiles and lets me lead her into the bedroom where I turn down the bed and we climb in. I wrap my body around hers and brush the hair out of her face. This is where I should know better. I'm smart enough to figure out that cuddling after sex is gonna fuck with my head, but I want it. I enjoy my body against hers and I want to feel it longer.
She lays her head on my chest, tracing the tattoo that runs along my collarbone. And her breathing has slowed down, hair spread across my skin. This feels very comfortable, and as I hold her, I'm reminded of how Timur warned me off getting attached. He wants the job done, just like Roman, and without any complications. I have to keep my eyes on the prize.
"You're good at that," she says quietly, hand stilling on my skin.
"At what?"
"You know what." Her head tilts up like she's looking up at me, and I feel her smile against my chest. I run my hand down her back slowly.
"It was incredible, right?" I kiss the top of her head. "You were afraid?"
I feel her stiffen a little as her head drops again. "Not afraid as much as embarrassed."
"You did fine, Marina. You felt amazing."
She laughs softly and then tangles her legs with mine, snuggling closer to me. It's nice feeling the press of her tits on the side of my chest and the way her breathing pushes against my body.
"Can I ask you something?" she says.
"Yeah."
"Do you do this a lot? Bring women here?"
I don’t really know how to answer that. I'm not a player, if that's what she's asking, but I've had my share of partners. Just never to a safehouse. "No," I tell her plainly, and I feel her shift again.
She lifts her head and looks at me with curiosity, like she doesn’t believe me one bit. I'm a good-looking man, I get that. But I have no reason to lie about this.
"No," I say again. Still, I can see how she may think I'm just here to bang her and move on. It isn't like we spent a lot of time leading up to being in bed fucking.
She holds my gaze for another second and then puts her head back down. Her finger picks up the tattoo where she left off.
"I'm supposed to get married," she says, and I hear the disappointment in her tone. I suppose if I were a normal man who was after a relationship, hearing that would make me upset after just fucking her. Learning she's supposed to be married off soon might put a damper on things. But I'm not a normal man and I already knew that. So I'm not sure how to respond.
I purposefully stiffen my body and let her think I'm tensing in anger. "Yeah?" I say controlling my response carefully. She's opening up to me already, which would be amazing if we stood achance at anything real. But this is also gonna fuck with me. She feels safe with me, and I'm not really being the type of guy she should feel safe with.
"It's an arranged marriage..." She lets her fingers trail down to my belly, across the hairs above my pelvis. "His name is Maksim. It's been arranged for a while. Both families want it, but?—"
"But you don't." It's probably a good thing this is coming out. It may honestly help me do my job easier. If I can convince her to tell this douche she's fucked me, maybe I don't have to try to pull strings. As it is, I didn't get any camera set up to record it or anything, so I have no proof it happened. I'll definitely be back in this again so I can get said proof and make the thing dissolve properly.
"I don't really want to marry a man I don't love." She pauses and sighs hard. "Besides, he looks at me like a piece of new furniture he's admiring. Not the way you look at me..." That pinches. Fuck, the guilt. She doesn't even know she's making me feel guilty, either. That’s the hard part.
"If he were different," she says. "If he were—I don't know... If he actually saw me..."
