Chapter 4 Valya
VALYA
His grip on my wrist is like iron, pulling me down the back hallway of my father's estate, away from the glitter of the gala, away from the prying eyes that would never forgive this.
My heels skid on the marble as he drags me through a side door, then shoves it shut behind us.
The music from the ballroom muffles to a distant hum.
It's just us now—me pressed against the cold wood, him looming like a storm cloud that has finally broken.
"Do you know what you looked like tonight?" Dmitri's voice is low, dangerous, the accent curling sharp around every word. "Parading in that silver dress, slit to your hip, showing every man in that room what belongs to me."
I want to argue, to bite back with something cruel. But his hand is already on my thigh, dragging the silk higher, his other palm braced above my head, caging me in. His eyes burn down into mine, ice-gray and merciless, and my mouth betrays me.
"Maybe I wanted you to notice."
His jaw flexes. Then his mouth is on mine—brutal, claiming, devouring. He tastes of vodka and smoke, his tongue thrusting past my lips like he owns the right to take. My gasp feeds him. He growls into me, grinding his hips against mine, and I feel the thick, hard press of him through his trousers.
He breaks the kiss only to drag his mouth down my throat, sucking hard until the bruise blooms, sharp and stinging. "I'm going to mark you everywhere," he murmurs against my skin. "So no man forgets who you belong to. Not your father. Not Sergei. Not anyone."
His hand finds my breast through the silk, palming me roughly, thumb circling the nipple until it stiffens against the fabric. I arch helplessly into his touch. He chuckles, low and cruel. "Such a spoiled little princess. But this body was made for me."
I gasp as he yanks the straps of my gown down, baring me. The cold air hits my nipples before his mouth does, hot and wet, sucking one deep, teeth scraping. My cry echoes in the small room. He switches, tugging the other with his teeth while his hand pinches the first. The pain makes me moan.
"Dmitri."
He pulls back just enough to snarl, "Say my name again. Say it when you scream."
I can't think. His hand slides lower, under my skirt, fingers finding me wet and ready. He groans, a sound so filthy it makes my thighs shake. "Look at you. Drenched already. Tell me, Valentina—did you touch yourself before this party, knowing I'd be watching you?"
I bite my lip, defiant, but his finger circles my clit and I break with a whimper. His laugh is dark, victorious.
"You'll learn," he growls, pressing two thick fingers inside me without warning, stretching me until I cry out. "You'll learn what it means to be taken by a man, not some boy who whispered lies in your ear."
His other hand fists in my hair, tugging my head back so he can mouth over my throat again, sucking hickeys into every inch of skin he can reach. My body writhes against him, torn between fighting and giving in.
He drags his fingers out of me, slick with my arousal, and shoves them into my mouth. "Suck."
I obey, sucking hard, my tongue curling around his fingers, tasting myself. His cock twitches against my hip and he groans, eyes closing for half a second. When he looks at me again, it's feral.
"You'll take my cock the way you're sucking my fingers. Deep. Hungry. No complaints."
He pulls his hand free, then grabs my waist, turning me toward the long oak desk in the corner. Papers scatter as he shoves me forward, pressing my chest against the polished surface, my ass raised high. His palm smacks down hard, the sound echoing, the sting making me cry out.
"You think you can mock me? Call me your father's dog?" His voice is rougher now, lower, his hand spanking me again, harder, until the burn spreads. "I'll show you what I am. I'll fuck you until you can't walk back into that ballroom without everyone knowing you've been ruined by me."
My thighs tremble, wetness slicking down them, humiliated by how much his filthy threats make me ache.
He leans over me, his breath hot at my ear. "Open your mouth, princess. Beg me to give you what you need."
The smack of his palm still burns across my ass when he shifts behind me. I hear the rasp of his breath, the low scrape of his belt buckle, and for a moment I think he's going to take me now—rough, merciless, like he promised. But instead, the weight of him disappears.
I glance back over my shoulder, chest pressed to the cold desk, and my breath catches. Dmitri is on his knees.
"Don't move," he growls, hands gripping my thighs hard enough to bruise. He spreads me open, baring me shamelessly. "You want to mock me like a dog? Then I'll eat like one."
The first drag of his tongue is brutal, a flat, wet stroke from my entrance up over my clit, slow and deliberate. My cry echoes sharp against the paneled walls. He groans low in his chest, like the taste of me is something he's been denied for too long.
"Sweet little cunt," he mutters into me, lips and tongue working like he's devouring a feast. "I knew you'd be dripping for me. Do you even realize how wet you are?"
I can't answer. My fingers claw at the polished desk, my body arching back against his mouth.
He licks me again, slower, circling my clit with the tip of his tongue until my thighs shake.
Then he plunges in deep, tongue fucking me hard, groaning like a man starving, each growl vibrating straight through me.
I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, trying to keep the sound down. His response is immediate—he smacks my ass, hard, making me cry out.
"Don't you dare hide those sounds from me," he growls, licking me again, rougher. "I want every scream, every moan, every filthy little whimper. Give them to me."
He buries his face deeper, tongue stabbing into me, his nose grinding against my clit until I'm thrashing against the desk. His grip on my thighs tightens, keeping me spread wide, open for his mouth. His groans grow louder, wetter, spit dripping down his chin as he eats me like he's gone feral.
I can't breathe. I can't think. My body is vibrating, every nerve raw, every muscle trembling as I ride his tongue without meaning to, grinding down like I need it more than air.
"Dmitri—" My voice breaks, sharp and desperate.
He pulls back just enough to growl, his mouth slick with me. "Say it properly."
"Please. Please don't stop."
He chuckles, low and dark, before diving back in, tongue circling my clit now in slow, punishing laps. His pace is deliberate, cruel, drawing me up higher and higher but never letting me fall. He switches, sucking my clit hard into his mouth, then dragging it between his teeth until I scream.
"Good girl," he groans, his voice muffled against me. "Shake for me. I want to feel you break on my tongue before I even put my cock in you."
My body obeys him before my mind can resist. I'm trembling, thighs quaking, the edge so sharp it's almost unbearable. Every stroke of his tongue drags me closer until I'm practically vibrating, nails clawing at the desk, my cries spilling shamelessly and brokenly.
His mouth is merciless. Every flick of his tongue, every hard pull of his lips on my clit, has me spiraling tighter, body clenching against him like I'll shatter. The edge comes rushing, sharp and brutal, but just as I begin to fall, Dmitri pulls back with a growl, his mouth glistening with me.
"No," he rasps, standing in one fluid motion. His hands grab my waist and drag me back off the desk, shoving me against it again, face pressed down, ass arched high. "You don't get to come yet. Not until I fuck it out of you."
I'm trembling already, slick and aching, when I feel the thick head of his cock pressing against my soaked entrance. He slides in with one brutal thrust, burying himself deep to the hilt. The stretch is overwhelming, tearing another cry from me, my body jerking against the desk.
"Christ," he snarls, voice breaking. "You're so fucking tight, I can feel you trying to strangle me."
My legs shake as he withdraws and slams back in, setting a punishing rhythm that leaves me gasping.
His hips drive hard against mine, each thrust pushing me flat against the polished wood, the slap of skin echoing sharp and filthy in the quiet room.
His hands grip me, one tangled in my hair, the other pinning my hip, forcing me to take every inch.
The overstimulation is unbearable. His tongue had me raw, trembling, so close I thought I'd die—and now his cock is pounding into me, grinding deep, each stroke threatening to snap me in half.
I can't stop the way I clench around him, can't stop the broken sobs spilling from my lips. "Dmitri, please…"
"Please what?" he growls, yanking my head back so I'm forced to see us in the mirror. His cock spears into me again, deep and brutal. "Look at yourself. Look at how you tremble on my cock. You think you can run from me when this is what you do? When your body begs me to keep going?"
The mirror shows it all—my flushed face, tears streaking down my cheeks, breasts bouncing with each thrust, and his cock disappearing into me, slick and brutal. My body jerks helplessly, caught in his grip, trembling as he fucks me harder, deeper, grinding every nerve raw.
"You're mine," he snarls into my ear, hips snapping against me with vicious precision. "Every clench, every cry—it all belongs to me. You'll come when I say. Not before."
My vision blurs. My body is vibrating, shaking uncontrollably, every thrust dragging me closer but never letting me fall. His hand slips between my thighs, fingers stroking my swollen clit as his cock drives into me from behind.
The combination is unbearable. I sob into the desk, my whole body racked with tremors, every muscle taut, every nerve burning with the desperate need to let go.
His fingers circle my clit in ruthless rhythm, every stroke timed to the deep drag of his cock pounding into me from behind.
I'm already trembling, already wound so tight it feels like my skin can't contain me.
His pace is relentless, punishing, like he wants to carve me open and brand me with every thrust.
"Dmitri—oh God—" My voice is broken, torn between pleading and surrender.
"Say my name when you fall," he growls against my ear, his teeth scraping my skin. His hips slam into me again, harder, sharper. "I want the whole fucking house to know who makes you come."
The overstimulation is unbearable—his cock wrecking me deep, his fingers stroking me raw, his voice in my ear, dark and commanding. My body jerks violently, my legs giving out, but he doesn't let me fall. His arm locks around my waist, holding me upright, forcing me to take every brutal thrust.
And then it breaks.
The orgasm crashes over me like a violent wave, ripping through my body with sharp, uncontrollable tremors. My scream is muffled against my own arm, my cunt clamping down around his cock so hard, it drags a guttural groan from his chest.
"Christ—yes," he snarls, pounding into me faster, riding out the spasms of my body as if he's trying to fuck the orgasm deeper into me. "That's it. That's it. Squeeze me, Aoife. Milk my cock."
I can't stop shaking, my body convulsing with aftershocks while he keeps thrusting, using my spasms like a grip, fucking me harder and harder through the pleasure that borders on pain.
My vision blurs, my mouth open on silent cries, my nails raking the desk as he drives me past any point I thought I could survive.
"Look in the mirror," he growls, dragging my head back, forcing my dazed eyes to focus on our reflection. "Look at yourself trembling while I fuck you. Look at what you are when you're mine."
The sight is obscene—my body quaking, breasts bouncing, his cock buried inside me slick and raw, stretching me wide as he pounds deeper. I sob, another shudder tearing through me, my body clenching helplessly around him as another wave threatens.
"Don't stop," I choke out, desperate, wrecked. "Please—don't stop."
He bites down on my shoulder, growling against my skin as his hips keep driving, merciless, grinding me into the desk, fucking me like he'll never let me go.
He grinds deeper, faster, dragging every last tremor from my body until I'm limp against the desk, my cheek pressed to the cool surface, breath shattered and broken. My cunt still flutters around him, sensitive, overused, pulling his cock tighter with every aftershock.
"Enough," he rasps, his voice wrecked, guttural. His thrusts grow rougher, uneven, every stroke a battle between restraint and the hunger he's been holding back. His grip on my waist turns bruising, hauling me back to meet his thrusts.
"Dmitri—" My voice is hoarse, a plea and a warning all at once.
"Can't hold it—fuck." He snarls against my skin, teeth gritted as he rams into me one last time before dragging out, his cock glistening, swollen, slick with me.
The next moment is fire.
Hot, thick spurts spill across the curve of my ass, streaking my back, dripping down my thighs. His release hits me in hard ropes, messy, marking me, his hand still stroking himself as he groans through it, head thrown back, chest heaving.
I watch in the mirror—watch him spill every last drop on my body, the look of ruin and reverence on his face, the sight of his cum glistening on my skin obscene and beautiful all at once.
When he's finally wrung dry, he collapses against me, his weight heavy, his breath hot and ragged against my neck.
His hands are still on me, sliding down my hips, claiming even in the aftermath.
"You belong with me, Valentina. And God help me, I will show you what it is like to be loved by a man, a real man. "
A shiver runs up my spine as the words register deep in my gut. His words are terrifying, yet, they are all that I want to hear. And they stay with me long, long after he puts his clothes back on and leaves.