44. Emily
44
EMILY
Konstantin laughs in disbelief. “Don’t play games with me, Kitty Cat.”
Instead of answering, I look to the side. It’s too much to stare straight into his face while he clutches my chin, our lips close to kissing while our hearts travel further apart.
I wish I was playing games.
But I’m not.
He asked if I’ve had enough. Maybe I have, but the pain feels too good for him to stop now . Maybe on some level, I crave the pain because it’s the easiest way to punish myself for being a pushover my whole life.
Maybe if I had a bigger backbone, I wouldn’t have been expelled from vet school.
Maybe if I did more, my sister might still be alive.
Maybe if I hadn’t picked up the phone call from Mom, I wouldn’t be here like this.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
But no amount of maybes will ever change the lone thought that keeps echoing in my head.
That this is the only place I want to be.
I want to be here because this is the only place where I can be honest about who I am and what I want.
And only he can give that to me.
“That look on your face,” he growls, interrupting my thoughts. “I fucking hate it.”
“What look?”
“Like you know something I don’t.”
That gets a shallow laugh out of me. “It must drive you crazy to know that you can’t break me.”
“I am breaking you!” His teeth glint like sun-bleached bone. He pushes my knees further apart, sending another delicious ache of need through my body.
I shake my head weakly. “No, you’re not.”
His smirk tilts higher on one side, like a bridge ready to collapse. “Let’s test your restraint.”
Despair and a terrible, insatiable lust wash through my core. Can I even survive another round?
Nuzzling the crease that divides my breasts, he takes the chain in his teeth. A tug draws a whimper of pleasure from me as he undoes the clips. All the cells in my body are centering on my nipples as relief ripples through my body.
His tongue rolls over my left nipple, then the right, taking turns and never leaving one alone for long.
“Fuck …” I sob.
God, yes! my body screams.
“Were you always this filthy?” he asks me. “Was this what you always wanted from me?”
Yes!
“Look at how wet your dirty pussy is.” He runs his fingers through my slit, showing me how they glisten as he pulls a string between his knuckles. “Do you even remember how many times you came?”
I shudder as he starts smearing the mixture of our arousal against my asshole.
“Is this what you’ve been dying for me to do?” His cock is pressed against my asshole, and the massive head—aided by my dripping hole—pushes into the impossibly tight entrance. “Is this what you mean when you told me to destroy you?”
My chest rattles with every breath as the searing heat rushes up my body, but I manage to level a hard glare down at him where he’s wedged between my breasts.
“You tell me, Kostya. ”
He closes his mouth on a nipple, his tongue drawing harsh circles around the sensitive bud. I point my toes and squeal when I feel his cock push deeper into my ass.
“I can feel your clit swelling up in front of me.” He drops his hand between my legs, gripping me so I can’t budge an inch while he continues pushing his huge cock inside of my ass.
His low, primal murmur of pleasure against my ear has my eyes rolling into the back of my head. He touches a finger to my clit and I moan, straining against the cuffs.
“Just that little bit of pressure and you’re already on the verge of shattering.”
I cry out again. My voice is hoarse from all my shouting. I worry I’ll lose it entirely before he’s done here.
I suck my bottom lip inward, working through how to answer, but the lusty fog clouding my brain ruins every sensible thought. His fingers enter my pussy, bit by bit, as his cock pushes deeper in my ass. I’m so turned on that I can’t talk, can’t think, can’t focus on anything other than the sensation of him filling me.
“Is this enough for you?” he asks, snarling.
But it doesn’t sound like that.
“Tell me, Kitty Cat!” He begs.
I clench my jaw, and refuse to answer. Because if I say anything, this will stop.
And I’m not ready for it to stop just yet.
Konstantin has gone oddly quiet. I open my eyes and look as he stares at me with fierce yet curious eyes. My arousal is off the charts. I’m hot all over. My inner thighs are slick. My chest and belly is coated in saliva and cum. The cock and fingers inside of me are doing wicked things, even as the two of us stand still.
I take a big breath. “Please ….”
“Greedy girl,” he shakes his head as he suddenly pulls out of me and reaches up.
A second later, my arms are free of my restraints, and I collapse forward into him. He bends down and does the same around my ankles.
“What are you, Kitty Cat?” He asks as he holds me. “Tell me.”
I know the answer I want to say, but I can’t say it.
He turns me around and falls to his knees, bringing me down with him. “Are you my wife?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and turn my face away from him.
He spins me around, pushes my face into the cold hard ground, and I feel his massive cock throbbing against my sensitive ass.
“Are you my whore?”
My mouth opens. Wicked heat torments me the longer he rubs his cock head against my entrance. I’m losing myself.
I shift my ass toward him, but he stays out of reach.
“No,” he taunts, leaning away, depriving me again. “You get nothing until you answer me.”
“Say what?” I groan.
“What you are!” He snarls as he holds my head to the ground and leans down to my ear, pleading. “Which one are you? My wife or my whore? Tell me!”
I know which answer I want. But I don’t know if that’s the answer he wants.
So, I tell him the convenient lie instead of the inconvenient truth.
I buck my hips under his powerful body, throwing my back into his muscular chest, and scream.
“Your whore! I’m your fucking whore!”
He closes his lips around my shoulder, then my neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin as he shoves his cock in my ass and his fingers in my pussy. I thrust my hips back into him, grinding helplessly as he ruts into me.
He fucks me with a terrifying new resolve, an anger that I can hardly comprehend. And in that moment, I realize that what I wanted and what he wanted are the same thing.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
He wants me to be his wife!
He begged me to tell him that I’m his wife.
But instead, I convinced myself to lie and tell him that I’m his whore.
His free hand grabs my chin and turns my face so that his mouth can conquer mine. His tongue brushes across my tastebuds as he deepens our kiss. Fingers digs deeper into my pussy and his palm rasps against my clit, driving me higher and higher as his cock opens my ass.
Keening in the terrible mix of pain and delight, I throw away all control of my body, squeezing every muscle to hold him inside as he plugs all of my holes.
I’ve said terrible, reckless things.
Every single one of them was wrong.
And now I’m facing the consequences.
Konstantin embraces me tightly, kissing me as he fucks me without mercy. He swallows my screams, and once he’s sure that I won’t pull my mouth from him, he moves his free hand down until it seizes my breast and squeezes.
I allow myself to be swallowed by the overwhelming sensations.
I allow him to drive all thoughts out of my mind.
Because it’s the only way I can keep my own heart from shattering.
I can feel his heart race through his cock buried in my ass, his fingers in my pussy, and his tongue down my throat. They match the thunderous beat from my own.
Robbed of every form of escapism, I sink further into the black pit of erotic nothingness. My muscles flex and squeeze all over, my belly tightening as waves of desire wash over me.
He fills me to the root. Every motion sends an unbelievable burst of pleasure ripping through my body. Fire blooms inside of me. A delicious, head-swimming fire that burns away every part of my being.
My lower belly tingles. I’m going to come , I realize . My legs go taut. I reach out and grip his legs as I pull him closer to me, my fingers digging into the iron hard bands of muscle. With a pathetic, wanton moan, I convulse on his cock and fingers and tongue as I come, screaming.
As one throat-breaking scream after rips out of me, Konstantin pulls me close to him, enveloping me in his powerful body and his warmth.
And then it happens.
Searing wet heat surges into me, and I feel him fill me from the impossible depth he’s buried within me. With one ropy spurt after another, his cum flows forth and leaks out around his cock buried in my ass, running down my hips and thighs.
Roaring, he pulls out of me and falls backwards, still cumming. I turn just in time for a few more errant drops to splash on my belly, my breasts, my face, and even my hair. The hot, sticky liquid beads and rolls along my skin. The salty musky scent—his scent—hangs heavy in the air, marking me as his.
I fight the urge to reach out with my tongue and lick away the salty pearly drop at the corner of my mouth.
Shuddering, he backs away and observes me at a distance. His cock is red and swollen. His seed puddles on the floor. We stare at each other, both breathing raggedly as if we’ve finished a marathon at full sprint.
I am leaking from every hole. Cum plasters my hair, covers my body, and leaks out of my pussy, mouth, and ass.
I begged him to destroy me , I think. And he did.
The air around us hangs heavy with the scent of sweat and sex and guilt. I’m quivering on the ground, limbs twitching as I convulse from even the lightest touch.
I don’t know how long we stay like this before Konstantin finally rises to his feet, sweeps me up in his arms, unlatches the door, and carries me up the steps.
He deposits me gingerly in our bed, and I feel my lips trembling at the gentleness of his touch. There’s no mistaking the self-loathing in his eyes at the thought of what he just did to me.
No, I correct myself. At what I made him to do to me.
This is who he really is. Not the monster he pretends to be in that dungeon. But this. The man who will reach up to wipe the tears away from my eyes. The man who chose me over the bratva when both came under threat in a hail of bullets. The man who would burn down the world for me if I just ask him to.
He showed me his heart, begged me to choose it, and I ripped it to shreds.
I made him believe that I can only see him as a monster.
Don’t cry. I plead silently. Don’t you fucking cry.
But just who am I pleading to? Him? Or myself?
I don’t know.
And it doesn’t fucking matter.
Without another word, he walks away, quietly closing the door behind him as he does so. And only when I’m alone, do I dare let myself cry.
Marrying Konstantin Siderov was supposed to be a ruse.
It was supposed to be nothing more than a game.
And games aren’t supposed to break your heart.