Chapter Eleven
In which Caroline is a Plokhoy kot.
Caroline…
"Yes. I want it."
I've got my thighs wrapped around his waist, and I look down as he reaches between us, his thick fingers holding his cock against my pussy, the ripple of all his gorgeous muscles and when he breathes in, it makes his tattoos dance.
"This is the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen," he groans.
Pressing his forehead against mine, he notches himself inside me.
His shirt and jacket are forgotten on the floor, along with my shoes, and my underwear has disappeared, and then none of that matters because I feel it.
I think I was going to say something, but my mouth just stays open, gasping, shocked.
He holds my gaze as he pushes forward, driving up inside me and my thighs tighten like a vise.
It's been a while for me. Though even if I had partied with the entire NYU Rugby Club the day before I think he still would've been too big.
Gloriously too big and just on this edge of way fucking too much and it hurts like hell.
I've never felt anything like this. The heat and the stretch, he's rough, and almost vicious and I love it.
Nikandr looks down between us and growls like a fucking wolf, like the one on his chest so vividly drawn that it looks like it's glaring at me.
His cock pushes harder up inside me, his hips bouncing me up against the glass, and I shriek, grabbing his shoulders and a fistful of his hair as his hands squeeze my ass.
"Who's inside you?" he says, bouncing me up and down. It's violent and messy and insanely good. "Caroline, look at me. Who's inside you?"
It's gloriously endless, his aggressive pounding inside me, the heat and the stretch of his cock. "You, Sovietnik," I half laugh, half gasp. "You're inside me and your cock is throbbing with a heartbeat I can feel."
I'm wet, embarrassingly, needily wet and he grins, feeling it.
"There you are," he says, his thick thumb circling my clit.
"My dirty, fucking girl. Filthy and goddamn delicious under those tidy blue business suits of yours, aren't you?
You scratch and bite like a rabid cat, every fucking mark will be worth it. "
My teeth close down on his shoulder again at a particularly vicious thrust. I think I drew blood this time, but I stay latched onto him because it feels like I'm breaking apart.
My legs are shaking. My toes are curling and he still keeps going, slamming his hips into me, shoving me back against the mirror.
I push my fingers between us sliding down to bracket his cock between them, still stunned at the size of him as plows into me.
It hurts, it feels like it should hurt a lot more than this, but he's made me so wet now.
Nikandr is grunting Russian phrases, something about my slick cunt, my gorgeous bite-able ass.
"You're taking me so well," he groans. He hoists me a bit higher to suck my nipple in his mouth, I moan, touching one of his.
When he bites down just hard enough, I pinch his right back.
His head shoots up, and he grins at me, hammering me harder against the wall.
"There is nothing like your perfect cunt," he rasps, "nothing like you.
" There's a fine sheen sweat over us both.
I'm so wet that I can feel it slicking down my legs, in between his thighs and then it starts rumbling through me.
An orgasm that feels more like a detonation, starting at the base of my spine and circling, cycling like I'm fire inside and when it explodes, I scream, clamping down on him tight, freezing him mid-thrust, ignoring his tortured groan.
His come is blazingly hot, my pussy gripping him tight, wanting to keep him inside me.
He's still thrusting, messy, sloppy moves now that he's come, like he wants to draw this out and make it last longer.
I'm shaking.
Why am I shaking? My nipples are throbbing, but it's nothing compared to my pussy.
He presses his face against mine, biting my earlobe. "You're going to feel me tomorrow, plokhoy kot."
I close my eyes, feeling his stubbled cheek rub against mine, the sting on my ear. "What does it mean, plokhoy kot?"
He chuckles, and we both groan as it moves his cock inside me. "Bad cat. A very bad cat, scratching and biting and yowling."
The light in the elevator suddenly feels too bright, I can see Nikandr too clearly, his gold-flecked eyes and firm mouth.
He lets me down very gently, one foot and then the other before pulling out of me.
I try to press my thighs together, sticky from us both, but he slides his hand between them, cupping my sore pussy.
"Beautiful."
I'm disheveled, makeup streaked, with my dress a sad, torn scrap of fabric and missing undies, but when I look into his eyes, I believe him.