Page 113 of Wicked Villain

“I love your little mouth, malyshka,” he groans. “But I want to come in your beautiful cunt. On your feet.”

He grabs my arm and hoists me up, then turns me to face the wall. His dominance stirs something raw inside me.

He positions himself behind me and I stare at the granite shower walls. He digs his fingers into my hips, then thrusts deep inside me.

I was already so aroused and ready for him that he slides right into me with ease.

My body jolts forward.

He pulls out for a moment, then thrusts in again. Deeper. Harder. A stroke of electricity zings through me, paralyzing my whole body. Then he takes me with a mad rhythm, thrusting faster and rougher in a maddening pace. The slap of flesh against flesh and our groans fill the room, along with the rising steam from the shower.

He fucks me like he wants to own every part of me, and like he has a vengeance that he can’t get enough.

It’s wilder and darker than the other night.

It almost hurts, yet I love it. I love the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain.

He grabs my ass and squeezes. “Scream for me, printsessa,” he commands, fucking me even faster at a ferocious pace that spreads fire all over my body.

I scream, the anguished sound echoing through the air. A wild orgasm rips through me, sweeping through my body like a storm. He comes too, groaning deep, and I feel the warmth of his cum filling me up.

He empties himself inside me, then he pulls out and turns me back to face him and crushes his mouth to mine. He kisses me greedily, then lifts me so that I can wrap my legs around his waist.

I’m shocked when he eases me back onto his cock and he’s hard again.

He presses me against the wall and grins, wickedly. “Why stop now, malyshka? We have all night.”

I don’t get to answer, he starts pumping into me again, claiming me once more.

Both Roman and Konstantin are accompanying me to my parents’ home. There’s another car full of guards, following closely behind.

I can’t believe I’m admitting this: I’m not looking forward to going back home.

Mama isn’t the issue. It’s Papa.

Lev and I had a glorious night, but the moment he left this morning, I started thinking about tonight and dinner with my parents. Dinner with Papa.

I’m a nervous wreck. I even forgot to brush my hair. I got dressed and sat in front of the dresser just staring at myself. I had every intention of doing my hair and putting on a bit of makeup, but it escaped me. Then it was time to go.

I had to settle for some clear lip-gloss and cheek stain, then I mussed my hair with some mousse to give it some life.

I stare out the window, watching the trees and the landscape roll by. We’ll be there soon. Then it will feel like I’m right back to where I was at the wedding. Papa will undoubtedly have a lot to say and Mama and I will just have to sit there and listen to him like we always do.

I hate it. God, I truly hate it.

I used to just go along with what he said because I always thought he knew best and I was too scared to do anything other than what I was told. I always worried he was going to punish me through hurting my mother. That hasn’t changed.

He may not have all the power he used to have, but he has enough. Papa still has some bite in him, most likely from his connections.

I feel like I’ve turned against my father? My family?

That’s where I’m stuck because I know Papa isn’t a good person.

I can’t just fight him, he’s married to my mother. That alone gives him enough power. Mama—bless her—does the rest.

Yesterday when I spoke to Mama, she didn’t even sound like she remembered how evil he was. Sometimes she’ll talk like that when he’s nearby, but he wasn’t even there. Papa got back from his trip today.

I don’t know what kind of evening I’m going to have, but I’m pretty sure it won’t be a good one.