The Captive #9
His thrusts grew harder, faster, each one dragging out my orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until I thought I might shatter. His free hand slid around my waist, gripping my breast possessively, his fingers kneading the soft flesh, his thumb rolling over my nipple.
Just as he’d done atop his horse yesterday—dear God, had it been only yesterday?
“Mine,” Dmitri growled, his voice a dark promise. “You’re mine, Augusta.”
The words sent another jolt of pleasure through me.
I wasn’t just his captive; I was his.
My cunny clenched around him, my body responding to his claim, to the way he owned me. I rocked back against him, meeting his thrusts, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Yours,” I gasped. “Oh God, Dmitri, I’m yours—”
His fingers tightened on my nipple, pinching just hard enough to make me cry out. The sharp pain mixed with the pleasure, sending me spiraling higher. My body convulsed around him, my orgasm still crashing through me as he fucked me, hard and deep.
“Bozhe moi, Augusta,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. “You feel so good—so tight, so wet—”
His thrusts turned erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp pants. I could feel him swelling inside me, his cock pulsing as he neared his own release.
Then, with a guttural groan, Dmitri pulled out.
I whimpered at the loss, but before I could protest, he pressed his cock against the cleft of my arse, his hand stroking himself as he came.
The first hot spurt of his seed landed on the small of my back, the second higher, almost reaching my neck.
I shuddered, feeling the warmth of him marking me, claiming me.
His breath was ragged as he finished, his body trembling with the force of his release. Then he collapsed over me, pushing me into the furs, his spend slick between us as his arm snaked around me possessively.
I lay there, boneless and sated, my body still humming with pleasure, my skin marked by him. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my skin, his breath warm against my temple.
“Mine,” he murmured again, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.
And in that moment, I knew it was true.
After a long moment, my wolf exhaled, then rolled from me with a groan. I lifted my head to see him padding naked to the basin where I’d meant to wash him earlier. He returned with a warm wet cloth, which he used to clean first my core, then my back, before wiping himself down efficiently.
Then he climbed into the bed beside me, pulling back the blankets and tucking them around us both as he gathered me against his chest. He kissed my hair and whispered a long sentence in Russian.
I’ve never wished to understand a language as much as I wished at that moment.
Still, I was grinning when I sighed and kissed his chest. “That was magnificent.”
Dmitri hummed. “As good as one of your books, da?”
“I only have the one book,” I chuckled, “and it’s not in French.”
He pressed another kiss to my head, then moved his lips to my temple, as if he couldn’t get enough of touching me. “Then you shall have to translate it for me, krasivaya. We will work through it, page by page.”
My contented smile grew, and I realized I was looking forward to this prospect.
In all of my life, in all of my years I’d spent reading A Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts, I’d never met a man I wanted to practice with as much as I wanted to experience with Dmitri Andreyevich Volkov.
We might not have a hope for a forever together, but we had enough time. My months on the steppes with him and his Cossack band would be my grandest adventure yet.
Why not get started now?
Grinning, I pulled from his arms and rose up over him, pushing down on his shoulders when he tried to follow.
“What are you doing, Duchess?” he growled, hands going to my hips.
I merely grinned wickedly. “I am your captive, Dmitri, am I not?”
His hands slid up my side, making me shiver with arousal. “I might say I am yours.”
“No, you stole me and my horses fair and square. I went with them.”
His lips curled now, matching my teasing, my fun, as his fingers stroked my skin. “Well, tomorrow you and I will go riding together. I will show you what a Cossack can do in the saddle, and you will show me how your mare can run.”
That sounded like heaven. “Deal,” I agreed, swinging one leg over his thigh until I was straddling him. “But first we have to begin our study.”
“Our study, eh?” Understanding my intent, Dmitri helped position me over his once-more-erect cock. “Of your little book?’
“A Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts,” I corrected breathlessly, rocking forward and back along his hardness, spreading my arousal over him and making his lids lower in desire.
“This is one of my favorites, my wolf. The Clinging Vine, page thirty-two.”
“Wolf, eh? Well, my little captive…” He was grinning as he pulled me down toward him. “Show me what you have learned from your book, da?”
My smile matched his as I slowly sank down atop his cock, and when I bent to kiss him, I knew being captured by this man was the grandest adventure of my life.