Page 11 of Bound Wings
Slava
Istrip her dress off while she fights me the whole time, leaving her in red lingerie that makes my eyes cross.
She. Wore. This. For. Him.
I need to calm down, because if I give in to this anger, I might go too rough and lose my control. I always have to have some level of control with her. I’m much bigger than she is, which is why I have to be careful. Even through the rage, a prickle of awareness at the back of my mind warns me I could really hurt her.
But the question comes out of my mouth despite myself. "You wore this for him?"
She rolls her eyes. "Why do you care? We aren't together."
I grab both her shoulders, forcing her to her knees on the bed with me right behind her, so we’re both looking at the tied-up man.
The fact that he’s seeing her like this makes the jealousy eat away at me, and it isn’t a feeling I like. But because my dick is currently buried between Nora’s red-lace-covered ass cheeks, I’m still hard. This is her punishment, and she’s going to take it. Besides, I wouldn’t let him look at her if he wasn’t already a dead man. If I see him get hard, though, I’m going to make his death even worse.
"Don't kid yourself into thinking she wore this for you," I growl, squeezing her small, perfect tits. Her back is pressedto my chest, so she can’t see the expression on my face. The animalistic rage.
My open palms land on both her tits with a sharp smack. She whimpers, still trying to fight me off.
"Not in front of him. Please, Slava, stop," she whispers.
"Since when are brats supposed to enjoy a punishment, baby?" I coo, massaging her soft flesh to soothe the ache I left behind. "You let him think he was getting lucky tonight. Made him believe this was for him, when we both know the truth. You knew I'd crash this little party, so you put this on for me."
She moans when I pinch her nipples, twisting them extra hard just the way she loves. I pull them away from her body, watching the pale pink skin bounce back, then soothe them by rubbing my thumbs over the peaks. When she moans again, I squeeze them even harder. I feel that this is the exact moment she finally shuts off her brain and gives in. She has never not given in to me, to the pleasure only I can give her.
"Who is the lingerie for? Tell him."
"For Slava," she gasps, finally admitting it.
"That's right."
I rip the red lace down, tearing it off her, and watch the fucker's eyes go wide. Even tied up, bleeding, and hurt... no one can resist my little butterfly.
But she's only mine.
"You know why she brought you here tonight? She got tired of me being patient. My girl likes it when I lose my mind over her, so she pulled a stunt to force my hand. She doesn't give a shit about you," I spit.
I know her better than I know myself, and definitely better than she knows herself. She doesn’t like me patient, she likes me unhinged.
I smirk, watching her skin flush at the realization that yes, she did exactly that. I saw the way she grimaced when she kissed him; she wasn’t into him. But she didn’t stop.
Why?
Because she was waiting for me to break in and do this to her.
The piece of shit cowers into himself, and she lets out a sharp gasp.
"That's not true," she cries.
"No? Then why are you so wet?"
I use my grip on the nape of her neck to press her flat against the mattress. I angle her so she stays kneeling, legs spread wide, her pussy pointed directly at the chair.
Making sure all her holes are exposed.
I drag my finger down from her clit to her asshole, stopping to swirl it against her tight little hole, collecting all the juices flowing from there.
"Tsk, tsk. Does this feel like a girl who doesn't know who owns her?" I tilt my head back, sucking my fingers soaked in her wetness while her face stays buried in the sheets.
