Chapter 30 Harder, Faster, Rougher
Harder, Faster, Rougher
Roman
I didn't expect any of this tonight. None of it was planned, but when Isla looked at me with those pleading eyes and asked in that angelic voice, fuck, I was ready to do anything.
I thought we’d end the night at Cartier or Tiffany’s.
I was going to ask her to pick a ring, or at the very least, a design she liked so I could custom order it.
That was my idea of showing her how much I loved her.
Yeah, I was about ninety-nine percent sure it would completely freak her out, but there was always that one percent chance it could turn into the best night of my life.
The best night of my life would be when Isla says yes to my marriage proposal, but tonight held that spot until then.
She wanted a tattoo of my name. I repeated it to myself so I could believe it. My girl wanted to mark her skin—forever—with my name. There was nothing sweeter, nothing better, nothing comparable to being with her.
Was I a fucking BDSM aficionado? No. But I knew what I was doing, and anything my girl wanted—she would get. I had a strong hunch that this was all new to Isla. I doubted good guy Thomas had any fucking clue how to tie a knot around anyone's wrists, but I was more than experienced.
Watching Isla submit herself like that awakened something untamed inside me. This was on another level than what we’d engaged in previously. Her moans, her gasps, her pure eyes when I praised her, the way she shivered under my touch…it all sent waves of rapture through me.
And the way she took my cock down her throat, so obedient—fuck, I was mesmerized. My suspicions were confirmed: Isla did tolerate pain exceptionally well. Just like the first days I spent with her, she endured it without question.
And I’d give her the world—on her knees, in my bed, or with my last name attached to her name.
My cock throbbed with every strike against her plump asscheeks, and resisting the urge to take her right then and there was agony, like a cruel exercise in abstinence.
I brought it to twenty, admiring her flushed skin—an artwork of pain and pleasure. God, I wanted to drown in her. Take her, fuck her, own her, feel her tremble against me. I knew she would take it all.
Gently, I pushed her down onto her stomach, and she sighed, her body still shaking. Isla was a true beauty, and she awakened every corner of my imagination. Her curves were pure temptation. Her buttcheeks were round, perfect—so satisfying to bite. She did have an amazing ass, and she knew it.
All of her skin was smooth and unblemished except for those scars on the backs of her thighs. I always avoided putting any pressure on her recent injuries, opting to give her sweet caresses instead.
Years of dance practice were clearly visible in the immaculate curve of her spine, and those dimples on her lower back were made for my lips and tongue.
I let her rest beneath me, her body in full surrender, and it hit me like a tsunami wave—she trusted me fully. Somehow that felt like a true honor, an achievement. I would protect that trust with my life. I would never break it.
Beads of sweat collected along her back, and I wanted to lick it off. All of her was mine—her sweat, her tears, and her sweet pussy. Instead, I lay down on top of her, gluing my skin to hers.
“You’ve been such a good girl for me.” My thumb grazed her plump bottom lip as I watched her facial expression, the faint trace of a smile always there.
"Yes, Daddy,” she whispered, relaxing beneath me.
"You want Daddy to fuck you...don't you?" I grinded against her, forcing the most heavenly moan out of her beautiful mouth. Her messy hair was still tangled up in my grasp, and I pulled again, listening to her voice. "Tell Daddy how much you want it."
"Please Daddy..." She paused to catch her breath. "Please fuck me, Daddy. H-hard. You know how I like it,” she begged, absolutely fucking desperately.
Perfect. She was perfect.
"Mm…Angel. Look at you.” Because the sight was a fucking gift from God.
“So desperate to be fucked. To be owned.
To be used. But Daddy wants to play." A little smirk tugged at my lips from my own words, and Isla’s body went into action, rubbing against me and asking for a release from the denial I was serving her.
Still bound, she panted. “No Daddy, please, please just fuck me." Her pleas inked themselves into my brain. This was so good, so satisfying, such a fucking turn-on. Not giving her what she wanted, I straddled her, trapping her body underneath me so she could barely move.
I reached over her head and untied her wrists, letting her take a deep breath in, but before she even had a chance to lower her arms, I did it for her. Isla was absolutely no match for my strength, and with little effort, I clasped her hands behind her back, tying them in the same loop.
"Daddy!" she whined and writhed beneath me. I tightened the bind. "Please! Let me feel you too!" she begged, her face now pressed into the bed.
I lifted up her hips to me, her glistening pink pussy at my mercy. I licked, my tongue dragging on all of her, tasting the most divine woman. But then I realized the truth—I was at the mercy of this pussy.
“Ah, fuuuuuuck!”
Yes, baby, scream for me just like that.
I wanted more. My tongue kept traveling up, running right over her tight little asshole, eliciting a much louder reaction. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Da…ddy!” I pressed my finger just there, her hips begging for more.
Yes, I knew she would like that.
I leaned over to whisper in her ear, and my cock came right up against her wet and warm entrance, driving us both crazy. "Does my Angel like that?" She nodded quickly, but I needed to hear her say it. "Use your words, baby."
"Yes! Fuck! Yes, I liked it!" she cried, her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth pressed against the sheets, pouty, pink, and used.
"Mmm. You’re such a dirty girl. You want daddy to fuck that tight little asshole one day, baby?"
“Oh my God,” she prayed. “Yes. Yes, I want that.” Her confession was so quiet, but once my tongue landed on her again, she yelled it out.
I teased her for just a minute longer, swirling my tongue all over her pussy and that delicious ass just to hear her moans. The little sounds she was making were driving me fucking crazy. I didn’t know why her voice was such a turn on, all previous women did nothing for me.
I ran my fingers up her back, onto her neck, and on her jaw, my tattoos such a dark contrast to her unblemished skin. “Open your mouth,” I ordered, lightly biting her shoulder.
Without hesitation, she followed my instructions, and I plunged two fingers inside her mouth, wanting to own all of her. She sucked them without me having to ask.
Good girl.
"You want my cock inside you, moya devochka?" I asked, pushing my fingers deeper into her mouth until words were no longer an option. I brushed that wild mane out of her face to make sure that I could enjoy the sight. I wanted to see every moment of need. Every trace of her desperation.
Then I moved lower, grabbing my cock and sliding in between her asscheeks—taunting, still not giving her what she wanted.
Beg—that’s what I wanted from her. Isla moaned around my fingers, her back arching, trying to increase the sensation, but I kept at it, just grazing her. Drawing it out. Driving her insane.
When I finally pulled my fingers out of her mouth, the begging came instantly. “Please, Daddy…please fuck me!” she cried, breathless and wrecked. “I can’t—I can’t anymore!”
My cock throbbed painfully, the edging making me delirious. "Yes, baby. I love to hear you so desperate, Angel. It makes me want to deny you again and again.”
“Ugh, please, Daddy, please!” She sobbed, tears sparkling in her eyes. She lifted up her hips, and the position was perfect.
I finally delivered.
I thrust inside her warm and soaked pussy so fucking hard, her entire body jolted up the bed. She cried out, and I lost myself, all reality fading into nothing.
I only saw her—my Angel beneath me, my body overwhelmed with lust and love for her. With my hand on her bound wrists, I filled my lungs with air and slipped out, my heart pumping faster from the sight.
“Yeah, Daddy, just like that…”
I gave my Angel what she so deserved, thrusting inside her again and squishing her with my weight. Her soft breast in one hand, I pressed into her neck with the other, keeping her still and all for me.
Isla’s voice traveled through me with every hard thrust that I delivered. I listened to her with my eyes closed, submerged in pure bliss, my lips on hers, my body dominating her.
Harder. Faster. Rougher. I gave her everything she asked for.
With every groan that tore from my throat, the rhythm only grew more intense.
Punishing. I held her tight, locking her in place, her body unmoving beneath mine as I watched her through half-lidded eyes—enjoying her beautiful face contort both in pleasure and pain.
I fucked her without mercy, dragging it out, refusing to let her catch her breath. No breaks. No pauses. Just my need, driving into her over and over again.
And fuck, I loved hearing her beg.
"Daddy...it's too much...it's too much." Her lies were interspersed with her moans of pure elation. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she gasped for air.
"Take it, baby. You're doing so well, Angel. I know you can take it all; you're my good girl. And my obedient little slut, aren't you?" I encouraged her, her groans taking me closer to the edge. "Tell me."
"I'm yours, Daddy! Fuck, I’m gonna come, fuck, don't stop!"
Just the way she liked, I applied slight pressure on her throat, feeling her come apart beneath me, her whole body shaking. Her pussy clenched around me, and I unraveled too, pumping into her everything I had, pushing in deeper and staying inside her, living in the moment.
This was fucking irreplaceable. She was irreplaceable. She was my life, my love, my lust. My fucking destiny.
When both of us mildly caught our breath, I immediately climbed off her, releasing her wrists as fast as I could. A pang of guilt overtook me. Her arms slumped down, and she lay there almost lifeless, taking short breaths in. “Are you okay?” I whispered, cupping her cheeks.
Fuck. After I came, I regretted the whole scene. It was one thing to call her my good girl and completely another to bring her skin to such a state and watch her slump down on the bed, barely moving.
Thankfully, she opened her eyes, her smile lit up in happiness.
"Yes. I feel great. Thank you." Her cheeks were flushed, and relief flooded me.
"I just…feel embarrassed,” she added, her gray eyes shining and filled with sincerity.
“That…all of that…turned me on so much.” She buried her face in the sheets, but I heard the giggle.
Fuck, she melted my ice-cold heart. I snaked my arm around her and pulled her in, my lips right at her ear. "Don't be. Ever. Not with me," I reassured her, trying to erase the memory of what her submission did for my sex-drive.
Images of us making slow and passionate love floated inside me, but whatever the fuck just happened was so far from that fantasy. Yet I couldn’t deny how much I enjoyed it.
“Stay here, okay?” I pecked her shoulder and headed to fill up the bathtub. I returned to her sprawled out on her side, observing me with a small smile, and I recognized how happy she was. With me.
While the bathtub filled up, we figured out what to order for dinner. Gently, as if she were made of glass, I picked up Isla and carried her to the bathroom, submerging her in warm water filled with Epsom salts. She sighed with relief, throwing her hair over the ledge.
“Wait…aren’t you going to join me?” Those pleading eyes and soft voice returned, and I paused mid-step out of the bathroom. Yeah, fuck, I’d do anything she asked.
I stepped into the bathtub, taking a seat on the opposite side of her. The lights dim, the outside dark, it was just me and Isla in a bathtub together. Nothing as intimate had ever happened between me and anyone else in the past.
Her gaze traveled down my chest, and she stopped just below my left collarbone. "What’s that tattoo?" Her dainty finger pointed to a rather large one, seamlessly fitting in with my other designs.
"It's the Russian coat of arms."
She nodded, then grinned. "You have the American one too?" Her fingers played with the water, sending ripples across the surface. I stayed still, my arms resting along the edges of the tub.
"No. Just the Motherland," I replied with a half-smile.
"Do you ever go there?" She posed the question curiously, and at that moment it dawned on me how little we knew about each other.
"Yes. I go back often."
"Really?" she asked with renewed energy. "But why? You said you've been living here since you were eight...that's almost thirty years, old man." She chuckled at her own silly insult, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
"I'm not old. I'm just older than you." I defended myself in fake offense. "I still have family there. My aunts and uncles. I made friends and...business connections."
I wasn't sure how to word that exactly. But my biggest and most important Russian business connection had just recently picked up his entire life and empire and relocated to New York, for a reason I still couldn’t figure out.
"Business connections?" Isla repeated, not convinced in the slightest. "Yeah...that sounds legit.” She spoke lightly. "Do you like it there? Russia seems brutal...cold and gray." She scrunched her nose and bit her lip, as if trying to tread carefully around the subject. That made me laugh.
"Uh huh. Americans think we’re all bad people. So cold-hearted. Ruthless and uncaring. But in reality, American people and Russian people are way more similar than either party likes to admit."
Her eyes widened, and she blinked quickly, clearly surprised at my words. “Really? Tell me more.”
I leaned back, not having to think about it. "Both Russians and Americans are daring, free spirits. They have a deep-rooted love for their country and would fight to the death to defend it. Both are under the impression that their country is the best and strongest.”
Isla listened with bated breath and didn’t interrupt.
I continued on. “Both people are caring, welcoming, warm, and genuine.
Both Americans and Russians are gregarious and the life of the party.
Each country has talent and potential. And both Russia and America choose a path of violence and aggression toward each other, instead of cooperation.
Also God. Both America and Russia believe in God and think they have some sort of special connection with him or. ..it."
I finished my monologue, not exactly sure why I decided to dive so deep into it.