Octavia
We had captured two more men who tried to kill me, or, more accurately, abduct me. Both ended up dead, and we are no closer to knowing who wants me, or for what purpose.
One came after the Christmas break. The other slipped onto the academy grounds last night, just as we returned from our three day escapade in Paris.
Markev was livid.
After we extracted what little information we could, which amounted to nothing, I went back to the dorm while he carried out a long, bloody interrogation.
It has only just finished.
He stands near my door now, having barged in without warning, staring at me with a faintly unhinged expression. Blood splatters his clothes, staining his hands and his face.
The intensity of the stare is another level. Hungry and possessive and angry all of them combined.
He steps away from the doorway, and I back away on instinct. His eyes are impossibly dark, and my stomach tightens in response.
I am done pretending I am anything other than turned on. Anticipation burns through me.
He takes another step.
I take one back.
“Run,” he says.
So I do.
I turn and bolt for my bedroom, making it inside just as I try to slam the door shut. A blade wedges itself between the door and the frame, stopping it.
I turn towards the bathroom, already moving for the door, but I hear him step into the room behind me. I barely get my hand up before he catches my hair and pulls me back against him.
His grip holds me exactly where he wants me.
And fuck me, I am already wet.
He turns me by my ponytail, releases it, and brings his hand to my throat.
His mouth closes over mine, the kiss fierce and claiming. When he pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his focus unwavering.
“You were in danger.”
He kisses me again, rougher this time.
“You were in fucking danger,” he says through clenched teeth. “I almost lost you.”
His grip tightens at my throat as his other hand grips my arse hard. His voice drops, raw with fury.
“No one touches you. Ever. You’re mine to protect. Mine to touch. Mine to fuck. Mine to breathe for. You’re fucking mine.”
He kisses me again.
“They tried to take you from me,” he says against my mouth.
He pulls the blade from his side and cuts through my shirt, tearing it away.
I am left in nothing but a sheer lace bra and thong, my nipples visible beneath the fabric, flushed and aching. His eyes take me in slowly.
“Perfect,” he murmurs. “Fucking perfect.”
He grips the back of my neck and kisses me again as the blade flicks upward, cutting through the bra. It falls to the floor.
“All mine,” he says.
He cuts away my underwear next, leaving me bare before him while he remains fully dressed, blood staining his clothes. I take him in, his erection straining in his jeans.
Without breaking eye contact, he shrugs out of his hoodie and steps out of his jeans. He isn’t wearing boxers. His cock springs free, thick and veined.
Mine.
He grips my throat again and kisses me deeply.
“This won’t be soft,” he murmurs into my mouth. “I need to fuck you hard. I’m angry, at you, at the world, at anyone who thinks they can take what’s mine.”
He pushes me onto the bed, and I land with a gasp. He’s on top of me immediately, kissing, biting, licking my neck. He takes one nipple into his mouth, then the other, teasing until my back arches.
He presses the cold blade to my skin, dragging it down between my breasts, over my stomach, brushing my clit without pressure. The sensation steals my breath. He tosses the knife aside before lowering his mouth to me, his tongue tracing slowly over my body.
Then he thrusts into me without warning, and I let out a broken gasp.
I cry out, my fingers digging into the sheets as pain and pleasure blur together. It takes me a moment to adjust to his length.
He doesn’t slow. He drives into me relentlessly, each thrust deep.
He pins my wrists above my head, holding me there as he fucks me hard.
“Not yet,” he warns when I tighten around him.
He pulls out abruptly and flips me onto my hands and knees. I arch back as he slaps my arse and thrusts back inside me.
“Fuck,” he groans. “So tight. You were made for me.”
His thrusts turn brutal, his hand fisting my ponytail as he drives me forward. I reach for my clit. I barely touch myself before I’m gone.
“Come for me,” he growls.
I let go. The orgasm hits me with such force it leaves me dizzy, his grip is the only thing keeping me upright. He slaps my arse once more, and I feel him spill inside me.
“That’s it,” he grits out. “You take me so well. This pussy is fucking mine. You’re fucking mine.”
He collapses over me, both of us breathing hard. His touch softens, his fingertips slid over my skin, and I shiver from the sensitivity.
He turns me onto my back, he spreads my legs and looks down at me, his eyes dark.
“You didn’t think I was done with you, did you?”
His mouth lowers between my thighs. I clutch his hair, riding his face as he growls against my pussy.
“Make yourself come on my face.”
By the time I come apart for the second time, I’m wrecked, shaking and breathless, but then I feel him enter me again and I can’t stop the sound that leaves me.
His smile promises trouble.
“I’m going to fuck you all night long,” he says. “Tell me you want this.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Make me come…”
He grins, taking my lower lip between his teeth as his pace increases.
“Your wish is my command, gorgeous.”