Page 24 of Claimed in Sin
I brace my hands on his shoulders, nails digging in through his shirt. "Then do it. Please."
He notches himself at my entrance, holds my gaze for one burning second, then thrusts up—steady, deep, filling me in one long glide that steals my breath. My mouth falls open on a silent cry, he's thick enough that I feel every inch stretching me, hot and perfect.
"Christ, Marina," he hisses through his teeth. "So tight around me. Like you were made for this."
I clench on him instinctively and he curses again, hands clamping my ass to hold me down while he grinds up, stirring himself inside me. The angle has him hitting that spot that makes sparks shoot behind my eyes. I start moving, lifting and dropping, riding him with the dress hiked around my waist, panties shoved to the side.
His mouth crashes back to mine, swallowing every little sound I make. One hand stays on my ass, guiding the rhythm, the other slips between us again, fingers finding my clit and rubbing fast, wet circles that match the way I'm bouncing on him.
"Like that?" he murmurs against my lips. "Want you to come all over my cock. Want to feel you squeeze me when you fall apart."
The words tip me closer. My thighs burn from the effort but I don't care—I need more, faster. He meets every downward roll with a sharp thrust, driving deeper, the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the closed car.
"Stepan—" My nails rake down his chest. "I'm close—fuck, don't stop?—"
"Come for me," he growls. "Let me feel it. Come on this dick like the bad girl you are."
The pressure snaps. I shatter around him, pulsing hard, inner walls fluttering and gripping as waves crash through me. My forehead drops to his shoulder, a broken moan spilling out while he keeps fucking up into me through it, drawing it out until I'm shaking and gasping.
He doesn't let up. His fingers stay on my clit, lighter now but still circling, keeping the aftershocks rolling. "One more," he says, voice wrecked. "I want you coming again when I fill you up."
I whine, oversensitive but already building again, the drag of him inside me too good to stop. I kiss him desperately, biting his lower lip as I continue to grind on him. My hips snap faster, chasing that second peak while he starts losing some of his control.
"God, you're perfect," he pants. "God, I'm gonna fill that tiny little pussy with my seed and make you come so hard, you milk me."
The filthy promise shoves me over again. I come harder this time, groaning against his mouth as my whole body locks up, clenching rhythmically around his cock. He groans like it hurts, hips jerking unevenly, but I keep jolting and twitching, riding him.
"Fuck, Marina." He growls as he pistons in and out of me, spilling deep in thick spurts that I feel with every twitch. His fingers dig into my hips, holding me flush against him while he empties himself and then slows.
I feel like I may cry, and not because I'm embarrassed or upset with him. It's a strange wave of emotion that consumes me until I bury my face in his neck and grit my teeth to stop it.
"Hey, shh. You okay?" Stepan's hands smooth up and down my back and I want so desperately to hold onto this feeling of closeness. He's still hard, still buried in me, but I know I can't keep him. As much as I want what he can give me, I have a duty to perform. It just makes it harder knowing love is so close—real love. And I can't do anything about it.
"Stepan," I whimper, feeling on the verge of tears. My tits hurt, I'm too tired, and I do not want to go back into that shop and pick wedding veils or shoes.
"I'm here, baby... Tell me what's wrong. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
I sit up, feeling his dick shift in me. He's slowly going soft as I start to realize how uncomfortable this may be for him. I've already told him I'm getting married to someone else, and now I'm getting emotional during sex. What's wrong with me?
"I’m okay."
"You're not okay, Marina. What is it?" His hand pushes hair from my face and then cradles my cheek. He smells like our sex, but I lean into him.
"I don't want to go back in there and pick wedding stuff." I feel like I am going to burst into tears any second.
"Then don't..." He pulls me down, kissing me tenderly. "Stay with me. We'll go have dinner."
My heart physically aches to do that with him. He is my dream come true, but I have to use self-control. My father has expectations.
"I can't... The wedding—" Just saying the word "wedding" makes me burst into tears. Stepan is right there, kissing the tears away, drying my cheeks.
"Hey, shh... Baby, it's okay."
"It's not okay," I whine. "I don't want to marry him." I don’t know what's come over me. I can't control the water works. It's probably ruining my makeup, and Elira will think I've been fighting and not fucking. I feel so conflicted now. It's not even guilt anymore. It's a strong animosity toward Maksim and such a powerful temptation to throw it all away and do what I want.
"Then don’t," Stepan says softly. I lift my eyes to him in confusion and he continues. "Marry me instead, Rina." No one calls me that but Elira. And hearing Stepan say it makes my heart feel tangled up even worse.
"What are you talking about?" I swipe at my eyes and push back farther on to his knees. His dick slides out of me and I feel his cum draining, soaking my panties and making the mess worse, but he is dead serious.
