15. Zoya #2
Maksim kisses me again, his tongue invading my mouth as his hips press against mine.
I can feel every hard inch of him, and the anticipation is agony.
He draws back, leaving me breathless, and positions himself at my entrance.
Then he pushes in slowly, forcing me to take his thickness one inch at a time.
My breath catches. I grip his shoulders, but he keeps going until he’s fully seated, hips pressed flush to mine.
Slowly, Maksim starts to move, his hips rocking in a tantalizing rhythm that has my entire body tense with need.
His hands leave my wrists and travel up my sides, along my collarbones, and then he cups my face in his hands.
"Look at me," he whispers, and I do. His eyes are darker than the night sky outside our window, pinning me in place just as effectively as his cock does now.
This is possession, pure and unspoken, an unyielding force that needs no words.
His dominance is communicated in every precise and deliberate thrust, in the unbroken intensity of his gaze locking with mine.
He studies me intently, observing the way I yield to him—the flush that spreads across my chest, the quiver that travels down my thighs, the way my lips part in a breathless gasp as he delves deeper within me.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he murmurs, his voice a low, ragged command that reverberates through the charged air. “I want to witness the exact moment you come.”
I clutch his shoulders, my breathing ragged and shallow, as his shaft slides through me with achingly slow, devastating strokes that push me relentlessly to the precipice of release.
“God, Maksim?—”
"Do you feel how deep I am?" His thumbs gently caress my cheeks, leaving a trail of warmth.
"No one else will ever get this close to you.
" Each thrust is deliberate, a slow yet unwavering rhythm that elicits a soft whimper from my throat.
He keeps me open beneath him, pinned down by the weight of his body and the intensity of his gaze that seems to pierce right through me.
I attempt to move, to rock my hips in a quest for more, but his grip on my jaw tightens, holding me in place.
"Don't rush," he murmurs, his voice a commanding whisper.
"You'll come when I say." The need within me claws desperately, a relentless ache building as I feel so incredibly full I can scarcely think.
His length drags against every swollen nerve, igniting a fire under my skin, yet he maintains control, dictating the pace with unyielding precision.
I dig my nails into his back, feeling the taut muscles ripple under my touch. “You’re torturing me,” I gasp, my voice laced with a mix of desperation and desire.
“I’m fucking you,” he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my body. “The way you need. The way no one else can.” His words are possessive, a promise and a challenge all at once.
He shifts his angle, adjusting with precision, and thrusts deep again.
My legs instinctively wrap tighter around his waist, pulling him closer.
The pressure inside me builds like a storm gathering force, yet release remains just out of reach.
I arch my back, meeting his powerful thrusts with an aching need that threatens to consume every part of me.
“You’re going to come slowly,” he tells me, his voice rough yet steady, a command and a caress. “You’re going to feel every second of it.” His words linger in the air, a tantalizing promise of pleasure that stretches time, making every moment, every sensation, exquisitely intense.
Maksim's thrusts become more urgent, his breathing ragged in my ear. His grip on my jaw tightens as he angles his hips, hitting a spot within me that ignites starbursts behind my eyelids. "That's it," he grunts, sweat beading on his brow. "Fuck, Zoya."
Words elude me entirely. My universe has condensed into just the man above me, the bed beneath me, and the way his presence fills me so completely it steals my breath away.
A molten heat gathers low in my belly, spreading outwards with every powerful thrust, and I am acutely aware of how close I am—teetering on the brink—yet he skillfully prevents me from soaring over the precipice.
I tremble beneath him, my breath caught, snagged in my throat.
"You love this," he murmurs, his voice a seductive whisper. "Being pinned beneath me, utterly consumed. My presence is the tether to your sanity."
A sound escapes me, raw and fractured, tearing from my throat. It's impossible to suppress.
He leans in closer, his warm breath tickling my ear as he whispers, “Don’t hold it in. I want to hear you when you break.”
My thighs tremble around his waist, the muscles quivering with anticipation and tension.
Each powerful thrust draws me in tighter, holding me precariously on the brink of release.
He expertly keeps me there, hovering at the precipice, refusing to let me tumble over the edge.
His fingers dance over my clit, moving in relentless, precise circles that send electric shocks through my body.
His length remains deeply embedded, thick and unyielding, stretching me to capacity, filling me completely.
“Say it,” he growls, his voice a deep rumble. “Say who owns this pussy.”
"You do," I gasp, my voice barely a whisper as it escapes my lips, each word strained with effort.
He drives in harder, pushing deeper, and the rhythmic creaking of the bed beneath us echoes in the room.
His hand, warm and firm, slides from my jaw to rest gently on my throat.
He doesn't squeeze; he simply holds me steady, grounding me in the moment.
"No one else," I pant, my voice hoarse and raw with unrestrained need. "Only you."
Maksim's grip on my neck tightens ever so slightly, enough to send a shiver cascading through my body—a thrilling mix of fear and desire that races down my spine like a bolt of electricity.
His movements grow more urgent, each thrust more intense, as if he's teetering on the edge of control, his body taut with the effort of restraint.
"Say it again," he demands, his voice a low growl that reverberates through the air, filled with commanding intensity.
"Maksim," I moan, arching my back as he hits that spot inside me again. "Only you."
“This cock owns every inch of you.” He’s fucking me so hard I can see stars now, and my God, is it amazing.
“Yes! Yes, fuck, don’t stop!”
“You gonna come on it?”
The orgasm takes me in one long, brutal surge, tightening around his cock with a force that robs me of air.
I can’t move, can’t breathe—every muscle locks down as heat spreads through my spine and rushes outward.
The sound that leaves me isn’t controlled.
It’s broken, desperate, torn from someplace deeper than reason.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, holding on only because I have no other anchor.
Each pulse drags another wave through me, thick and hot and blinding.
I feel stretched, claimed, undone completely.
It doesn’t ease. It keeps coming, wave after wave, until I’m raw and trembling beneath him.
When his grip loosens and oxygen floods my lungs, I feel him flood me.
He thrusts once more and stays buried, cock pulsing as he comes.
I feel every surge of release, thick and hot inside me.
My muscles clamp down around him, drawn tight by aftershocks I can’t control.
His chest presses to mine, each breath heavy and uneven.
My legs remain hooked at his waist. The sheets lie twisted under my back, damp with sweat.
My thighs ache from how tightly they’ve locked around him.
I don’t move. I stay open, full, stretched to the edge of what I can take.
My pulse hammers through every inch of me, and the air smells like him.
The room is quiet except for the sound of our breathing gradually returning to normal. He traces lazy patterns on my bare shoulder, and I close my eyes, letting myself pretend this is simple.
His hand moves to my hair, fingers combing through the dark strands. "I can't wait to make you my wife," he says, his voice soft in the darkness.
The words make my throat tighten. Tomorrow's wedding feels suddenly real, suddenly loaded with possibilities I hadn't considered.
I press my face against his chest, hiding my expression, and try to remember why I'm here.
Damir. Protection. Making Maksim care enough about me to spare my brother's life.
But with Maksim's arms around me and his heartbeat steady under my ear, those reasons feel tangled up with other things I don't want to name.
"Are you okay?" he asks, and I realize I've been quiet too long.
"Just thinking about tomorrow." I lift my head to look at him. "It's a lot."
"We'll get through it together." He cups my face in his hands, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. "I promise."
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache. I want to believe him, want to trust that this feeling between us is real. But I know better than to trust feelings, especially when they're this strong and this dangerous.
When he's not looking, I press a hand to my stomach. The gesture is automatic, protective, and it reminds me of the secret I'm carrying. The one that changes everything, even if I'm not ready to face it yet. I'm pregnant with Maksim's baby.
The realization should terrify me, should make me run, should make me end this before it gets any more complicated. But lying here in his arms, feeling safe for the first time in weeks, I can't bring myself to move.
Maybe this is better. Maybe carrying his child will make him see me as family, make him want to protect what's mine. Maybe tomorrow's wedding will mean more than I planned.
"Get some sleep," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
I close my eyes and let myself sink into the warmth of his embrace, a place I shouldn’t feel safe at all.
A place I’ve been warned is dangerous, but it’s also a place where I feel like I’ve found something I’ve never had before, but something I’ve always wanted.
Tomorrow, I'll marry a man I've been trying to manipulate.
Tomorrow, I'll smile and play the part of the blushing bride while hoping that becoming his wife will save my brother's life.
But tonight, I can let myself want this. Tonight, I can let myself believe that when he says he can't wait to make me his wife, he means it.
Even if I'm not sure anymore whether I'm playing him or playing myself.