Page 22 of Viper’s Reign

“Oh my G⁠—”

Before she can finish, I blindly press my palm against her mouth and lean down to her ear.

“The only name you utter in this bed is mine, understand?”

She nods furiously, whimpering into my hand. The heat of her breath only adds to the pleasure. A guttural groan rips from my chest, my breath catching sharply in my throat. I let myself sink into her suffocating warmth.

She’s so fucking tight. Jesus, fuck. It’s like a vise gripping my cock, hot and wet, walls fluttering around the intrusion. I’m drowning in the sensation, ready to lose myself in it, when I catch the expression on her face. It’s not pleasure. Her features are twisted, eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. I freeze, buried halfway inside her, a frown creasing my brow. Is she…?

In a surreal haze, I pull out slowly, the drag of her pussy reluctant, and stare at the condom. A streak of blood smears the latex, bright and undeniable.

She’s a virgin.

The realization crashes over me, and on its heels, that possessiveness surges again, stronger now, flooding my veins with liquid fire. I try to push it back again, but I can’t—not when she’s looking up at me like that, so vulnerable.

Her blood is on my cock.

“Ace,” I rasp, cupping her face, thumb brushing away a tear, my other hand stroking her thigh soothingly even as my cock aches to plunge back in. “You’re… untouched. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She bites her lip, eyes locking on mine, a mixture of embarrassment and need swirling there. “I… I wanted this. Wanted you. I wasn’t sure you’d keep going if you knew.”

Fuck. Her words undo me. She’s right, I wouldn’t have. I don’t do inexperienced women. I’m well aware of who I am. What I am. Nothing as monstrous as me should be allowed anywhere near something so pure. I’d only taint it.

So why am I so fucking happy she didn’t tell me?

Because if she did, you wouldn’t have ended up here, with her.

I lean down and kiss her softly at first, tasting the salt from her tears. It’s too late to save her from me, I tell myself, kissing deeper. The best I can do now is make sure she’s ready. My tongue sweeps in to claim her mouth while my hand slides between us.

There’s no going back. She’s mine.

So worship her.

I rub her clit in slow, patient circles, feeling her relax under me, her hips lifting instinctively. She’s still wet, the blood minimal, and her body gives in as I work her open with my fingers again—first one, then two—stretching her gently.

“I’ll make it good for you,” I promise against her lips, nipping her jaw. “But you’re mine now, Plamyashka. You understand that? No one else gets this.” All. Fucking. Mine. I curl my fingers inside her, grinding the heel of my palm over her clit. She whimpers, her eyes fluttering shut, but she nods.

Satisfied, I withdraw my fingers and position myself once more, the head of my cock nudging her entrance.

This time, I ease in inch by inch, watching her face for every reaction—the furrow of her brow, the sharp gasp as I stretch her, then the gradual smoothing as the burn settles.

Her pussy clenches around me, so goddamn tight it borders on torture, and the control it takes to stay gentle has sweat beading at my temple.

When I’m finally seated to the hilt, balls pressed flush against her ass, my lips part in a silent groan. I lower my head to her neck, sucking dark marks into her skin, branding her while I grind in shallow circles to let her feel me.

“Breathe, baby.” I lift from her neck and gather her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head, my other hand finding her nipple and teasing it into a stiff peak.

She gasps, arching up, and the movement shifts me inside her, drawing a deep moan from both of us.

Slowly, I start to move—pulling out halfway and thrusting back in, building a rhythm that’s controlled but relentless. Her walls hug every ridge of my cock, milking me with each thrust until I have to bury my face in her hair to keep it together.

“So fucking perfect,” I growl, picking up speed as I feel her pain melt into pleasure.

I release her wrists to brace against the glass behind her, and she clings to me, her nails digging into my shoulders. Then her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, and that’s it—I snap.

Everything after that is heat and noise.

My thrusts turn harder, deeper, the lounge filling with the creak of the bed and the slap of skin and her sweet broken cries.