Chapter 16 Aleksandr #2
She doesn’t even try to deny it. Instead, she smirks—slow, dangerous.
Her hands slide down to the hem of her dress, fingers brushing the fabric as if she’s daring me to rip it off her.
Her bottom lip catches between her teeth, her lashes low and heavy over those wide, golden eyes, and that look—God, that look—drives me insane.
I crash my mouth against hers, trapping the wicked little sound she makes when I kiss her deep, my tongue tangling with hers. She melts into me, but I don’t give her time to catch her breath. I fist the thin fabric of her dress and yank it up around her waist in one rough pull.
She gasps into my mouth when my hand slides between her thighs. She’s already wet—soaked and waiting—and the feel of her makes my vision white-out for a second.
“Fuck,” I mutter against her lips. “You’re soaked, Lily. Is this what you wanted? To get me so worked up I couldn’t think straight?”
She moans as I slide a finger inside her, her hips rocking against my hand. “Yes,” she breathes, her voice trembling. “I wanted you to lose control.”
I chuckle darkly, adding a second finger and curling them just right to make her gasp.
“Oh, sweetheart, I haven’t even started to lose control yet.
” I pull my fingers out of her and turn her around, bending her over the sink.
Her reflection stares back at us in the mirror, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with every breath.
I push into her in one swift motion, and she cries out, her nails scraping against the porcelain sink. “That’s it,” I growl, my hands gripping her hips as I start to move. “Take it, Lily. Take every fucking inch of me like a good little wife.”
She moans loudly, throwing her head back as I slam into her again and again.
The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the small room, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the way she looks—her hair falling in wild waves around her shoulders, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, that fucking dress still clinging to her body like it was made for this moment.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” I murmur, leaning over her to nip at her ear. “Look at yourself in the mirror. Look at how badly you want this.”
Her eyes meet mine in the reflection, and there’s fire in them—pure, unbridled desire.
Her lips part as she lets out a shaky breath, and I can see the flush of her cheeks, the way her chest rises and falls with every ragged inhale.
She’s watching me fuck her, watching herself unravel under my touch, and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
“Do you see yourself, Lily?” I growl, my voice low and rough as I grip her hips tighter, driving into her harder.
“Do you see how much you love this? How fucking wet you are for me?” She whimpers, her nails scraping against the sink as she arches her back, pressing herself against me even more. The sound of her moans fills the small bathroom, mingling with the rhythmic slap of our bodies colliding.
Her hands grip the edge of the sink as she holds on for dear life while I pound into her relentlessly.
Her royal blue dress is bunched around her waist now; its luxurious fabric sliding against her smooth skin adding to the sheer beauty of her helpless vulnerability exposed before my very eyes.
The sight of her like this – so wanton yet elegant all at once – makes something primal within me snap; it's like freeing a beast held behind bars for far too long.
I lean down closer to whisper directly into her ear, the warmth from my breath tickling across sensitive flesh, sending shivers coursing through her.
"Look at that pretty face," I murmur darkly against her neck as I thrust deeper inside of her, making sure each movement causes ripples through both our cores simultaneously.
"Look at how wrecked you are because of me. You wanted this didn't ya?”
Thrust.
“To feel owned by someone.”
Thrust.
“To be fucked in the bathroom, because my wife just can’t get fucking enough, can she?”
I fuck her harder, my pace becoming almost brutal in its intensity. Her moans turn into desperate cries, and I can feel her tightening around me, her body on the edge. I lean forward, my chest pressing against her back and my breath hot against her neck.
“Come for me,” I command, my voice leaving no room for argument. “Let me feel you fall apart because of me.”
She does. With a cry that echoes through the room, she comes undone, her walls clenching around me as I continue to pound into her.
The sight of her in the mirror—her eyes wide with pleasure, her lips parted in ecstasy—is almost enough to tip me over the edge.
But I hold on, drawing out her orgasm until she’s trembling beneath me.
When I finally let myself go, it’s with a low growl, my body pressing against hers as I spill myself inside her. For a moment, the only sound in the room is our heavy breathing, the heat of our bodies mingling as we both come down from the high.
I pull out slowly, watching as she sags against the sink, her legs barely holding her up. Her reflection is a portrait of satisfaction—hair messy, lips swollen, eyes glazed with pleasure.
I reach out and trace a finger along her spine, making her shiver. “You were perfect,” I murmur, my voice softer now but still laced with possession. “My perfect little wife.”
She looks up at me through the mirror with a drunken smile, I wink at her and watch the tips of her ears turn a burning red when my phone rings.
I grab my phone off of the bathroom floor and glance at the screen, already irritated. One look at the name flashing across it and the irritation drains out, replaced with a leaden weight in my chest.
I swipe to answer.
“Aleksandr,” Nik’s voice is grim, no preamble. “NYPD just found Lyon’s body.”