Chapter 15 Weight of Blood #3
A growl vibrated low in his throat. “That’s it. Beg for it.” His hand slid further, cupping me, stroking me through the heat of my trousers, slow and relentless, rolling his hips so I could feel exactly how hard he was, trapped against my thigh.
His lips traced my jaw, his teeth nipping the hinge, dragging sparks of pain that set my blood alight. “You have no idea what I want to do to you. How long I’ve thought about it.”
My answer was nothing but a shudder, breath caught and broken in my chest. My knees threatened to give out, clutching at his shoulders for balance as I pressed in, greedy for every scrap of friction he’d give.
His mouth worked its way down my throat, the stubble of his jaw burning a trail I’d feel for hours.
Lifting me was nothing for Viktor—strength wrapped in control, his arms locking tight around my waist, his hands so fucking sure.
My legs went around his hips, desperate to keep him close, thighs shaking as he pinned me between himself and the wall.
Every inch of him pressed into me, solid, hungry, unyielding.
Our chests dragged together, heartbeat to heartbeat, my lips parted and hungry for more.
Viktor’s grip found the curve of my ass, fingers digging through fabric, hauling me higher until my back arched and my cock ground hard against his stomach.
The position left me open, vulnerable, but all I could feel was his possessive strength and the heat building between us, obscene and beautiful.
My arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in hair gone damp from rain and sweat. “You want to ruin me?” My voice sounded raw, needy, closer to a whimper than a question. “Show me.”
Viktor’s mouth caught mine again, open, searing, his tongue pushing deep to claim every secret I’d never meant to give away.
Between kisses, his breath ghosted hot over my lips.
“You have no idea what you do to me. Been dreaming about this, every fucking night, watching you strut around this palace, testing my patience.”
His words set something loose inside me.
My hips rolled against him, seeking friction, desperate and unashamed.
Every drag of my body against his sent sharp pleasure coiling up my spine.
“Prove it,” I managed, gasping as his hands squeezed tighter, rocking me against his cock, still straining behind those sharp suit trousers.
The world tilted as Viktor carried me from wall to bed, steps slow and controlled, every stride a silent promise.
My legs clamped harder, ankles locking at the small of his back, chests sliding together.
With every movement, my cock rubbed against his belt, the friction exquisite, a cruel tease that made me grind harder, hungrier.
Falling back into the sheets with Viktor covering me, the pressure of his body kept me anchored to the world.
Clothes still on, the scent of sweat, rain, and gun oil clinging to both of us, I was lost in the mess of it.
His thigh shoved between mine, forcing me open, letting me rut shamelessly against him.
“Slow,” he whispered against my lips. “Let me have you slow.” That promise left me wrecked, clawing at his jacket, desperate to drag him closer, unable to get enough.
Viktor’s hands mapped my body, never hurried, taking in every trembling inch, tracing the lines of muscle beneath my shirt, gripping my hipbones hard enough to bruise.
One hand pressed my wrists above my head, pinning me to the mattress, a silent command to surrender.
My body obeyed before my mind caught up, melting into the control, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth dragged down my throat.
Tongue tracing veins, teeth scraping over my pulse, his voice low and ruined.
“Want you to remember this,” he murmured. “Every second. Every sound.” His teeth caught the lobe of my ear, sucking, biting, sending shocks straight to my cock. “Tell me what you want.”
My legs tightened around him, grinding up until the friction had me gasping, sweating. “Want you to touch me. Want you to make me come. Want to feel you everywhere, even if you never take a single thing off.”
Viktor’s hand dropped from my wrists, tracing down to palm my chest through the thin shirt. Each brush of his thumb over my nipple sent fire racing through me. His mouth latched on to the side of my neck, sucking hard, marking me as his own, leaving evidence that would last for days.
“Good boy,” he growled, and the praise made my whole body shudder, hips rolling up into him harder, desperate for more. “You’re so fucking gorgeous when you’re begging.” His hand traced lower, skimming over my abs, down to the waistband, his touch slow and heavy.
The other hand cupped my jaw, forcing my eyes open to meet his. The hunger there, the devotion, the barely leashed violence—nothing had ever made me feel so owned, so wanted. “Don’t hold back,” he ordered. “I want all of it. Every sound, every mess you make for me.”
His mouth found mine, bruising and deep, tongue pushing past my lips as his hand worked my cock through fabric. I couldn’t stop the filthy moans, the desperate pleas, the sound of his name half-sobbed against his lips.
He pressed his hips down, grinding his cock hard against mine. Every movement sent sparks up my spine, the friction near unbearable. My thighs tightened, pulling him closer, locking him to me as I moved with him, rhythm wild and frantic.
“Feel what you do to me?” Viktor’s voice was a dark promise. “Been hard for you all fucking day. Thinking about your mouth, your hands, the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”
I rutted against him, body frantic. “Want you so bad it hurts. Want to come for you, Viktor. Please—please—”
A wicked smile ghosted his lips as his teeth scraped my jaw, tongue soothing the sting. “You’re going to, prince. Not letting you out of this bed until you do.”
His hand tightened on my cock, grinding me through my trousers, the friction sending me hurtling toward the edge. Sweat slicked my skin, my heart in my throat, every inch of me straining for his touch, his mouth, his control.
He pressed me deeper into the mattress, his thigh shoved up between my legs, the muscles flexing as I rode the pressure, grinding desperately, lost in the heat of it. The air filled with the scent of us—sex, sweat, the storm that still raged outside.
“You make the filthiest sounds,” Viktor teased, voice ragged. “Never imagined the crown prince would whimper like this, beg like this for me.” His words lit a fire under my skin, pride dissolving into need.
My hips bucked, chasing every stroke, every grind. “Can’t help it,” I confessed, words tumbling out between gasps. “Never wanted anyone like this. Need you. Need you to break me apart, put me back together.”
His hand squeezed harder, thumb rolling over the wet spot blooming in my trousers. “I will. I promise you, I will.” His mouth captured mine, swallowing every cry, every filthy plea as I lost myself to the relentless rhythm he set.
Fingers gentle but sure, Viktor brushed hair from my brow, thumb caressing my cheek as I blinked up at him, heart racing, skin burning.
His eyes roved over me, hungry, soft, possessive in a way that threatened to undo me all over again.
My pulse jumped as his touch shifted, the pad of his thumb tracing the hollow beneath my jaw, lips brushing there—soft, hungry, wordless devotion.
Warm hands trailed down, finding the edge of my jacket.
His breath was steady now, measured, a contrast to the storm still raging inside me.
My hands dropped away, giving him leave, surrendering completely as he eased the battered, rain-soaked jacket from my shoulders.
Each movement deliberate, savoring, peeling away the layers of armor I’d built around myself for years.
Cold air ghosted over sweat-damp skin as Viktor slid the jacket down my arms. The sound of it hitting the floor—a dull, final thud—echoed in the space between us.
Fingers retraced the line of my collarbone, the brush of knuckles both reverent and hungry, searching for every bruise left by the fight, every mark that proved I was alive, that I’d survived.
His mouth pressed to my temple, a wordless promise.
“Let me see you,” he whispered, voice cracked with awe and want.
Buttons gave beneath his fingers, each one freed with agonizing care.
My shirt hung open, clinging to sweat and blood and the remnants of adrenaline, exposing skin in slow increments.
Every patch bared made me shiver, nerves raw, every inch claimed by his gaze.
The shirt joined the jacket on the floor, nothing left but the thin white tank beneath, torn in places from the fight.
Viktor’s hands lingered at my ribs, thumbs dragging over the bruises there, the memory of violence softened by the tenderness of his touch.
His eyes found mine, question and command mingled.
My breath hitched—permission, want, surrender, all tangled together.
“Keep going,” I managed, voice barely more than a ragged whisper.
That tank, sweat-soaked and clinging, was the next thing he wanted.
His hands slid beneath the hem, palms searing hot against my belly, sliding up, tracing the shape of muscle, following old scars and new.
My head fell back, throat exposed, baring myself for him—everything I was, everything I’d been hiding.
Viktor lifted the shirt slowly, bunching it in his fists, letting his knuckles graze every inch of skin as he peeled it away.
His mouth followed, not kissing, just breathing against me, marking the path with heat and promise.
Every slow reveal made me ache, made me want to beg for more, to beg him never to stop.
Fabric caught at my shoulders, then slipped free, baring me to him, chest heaving, marked by sweat, bruises, and the wild rush of need. My arms dropped to my sides, unresisting, nerves thrumming with anticipation.