15. Rose #3
"Eyes on me," he insists, and I dare not break his gaze as he begins to move inside me, taking me in long, slow strokes that shudder through every inch of my body.
As much as I can feel every man in the room watching me, I can do nothing but look back at Ilya, my body given over to him completely.
I can feel his words throbbing in my mind with every heartbeat, rushing through my veins like my blood, my lifeforce.
The promise to protect me, to do whatever it takes to show that I belong to him.
I grip the table as I look up at him, his hand still on my chin, leaving me no choice but to gaze into his eyes and take everything he gives me.
He fucks me hard and fast, staking his claim on me, and my body responds to it, something stirring deep in my belly.
I hook my legs around him, draw him in even deeper, and the atmosphere in the room could be cut with a knife as the men watch together.
The only sounds in the room are Ilya’s grunts as he fucks me and the soft whimpers that escape my lips as I spiral closer and closer to my release.
He takes hold of my hips, pulling me down towards him, leaving no room between my body and his.
It’s like he wants to meld us together entirely, so that nobody but him can lay hands on me.
My breath comes in starts as my belly begins to clench, my thighs twitching on either side of him, my pussy tugging at his cock with every thrust. Does he know how it feels for me to give myself to him like this?
He must. He must realize that there’s no fight left in me now, that I can see he has invaded each and every part of my life, and that the best I can do is just let him have me, any way he wants me, any way he needs me, since he knows best...
And it's that thought that pushes me over the edge, my belly rising from the table as I let out a loud moan.
I can't contain myself—and don't want to—as the pleasure consumes me, tearing through my body like a goddamn forest fire as he fucks me deep.
He grins as he feels my pussy spasming around him, and I can tell he takes this as further proof that he owns every inch of me, including my pleasure.
He leans over me, pinning my hands to the table, his breath picking up as he drives in deeper and deeper and deeper until...
Until I feel him fill me with his seed, his cock thrusting so far into me that it feels like we’ll never be drawn apart.
I can feel him filling me, flooding the most intimate part of me with his essence, and it strikes me that this might be the very same way we conceived our child—and, for just a split second, I convince myself that he must be the father.
Because there’s no way that I can feel this kind of connection with a man I am not pregnant by.
He holds himself there, breathing hard, stirring his hips against me a few times before he finally draws back.
My skirts fall back down over my thighs, and my gaze softens, growing blurry around the edges from the sheer pleasure.
I can feel every single one of these men watching me, drinking me in.
I hardly know what to think—if Ilya expects me to say something, to protest, to argue.
I wonder if this was as much a test for me as it was for the gathered men, but I figure it’s best for me not to ask.
Ilya offers me a hand and helps me to my feet.
My legs tremble beneath me as I straighten up once more.
As I look around, I notice that Sergei’s eyes are downcast. He seems to be doing his best to avoid looking at me right now, unlike every other man in the room.
At the back of my mind, curiosity sparks—is there a reason he’s so determined to avert his gaze, or is there something here that I’m missing, something that doesn’t quite make sense to me yet?
I adjust myself as best I can, suddenly feeling a flood of awareness that I have just done this in a room full of Ilya’s men.
I can hardly believe that I let this happen.
But then, when it comes to Ilya, there’s almost nothing I can say no to.
Every time I think I’ve managed to dig my heels in and prove that he doesn’t have a handle on me, he does something to remind me that he is the one calling the shots.
I need to keep that at the front of my mind if I want to make it through unscathed.
"Go to your room," he tells me, his voice low.
I think of arguing with him, telling him that he doesn’t just get to take me and then send me away like it’s nothing, but I swiftly think better of it. I have already pushed him to the point of no return, and I don’t want to find out what’s waiting for me if I fail to play my cards right.
Lowering my gaze to the floor, my body still throbbing from our encounter, I make my way back to my room. Whatever doubts I had about his intentions for me have vanished, at least for now. He wants me, every part of me, and he doesn’t give a damn who knows it.
And all I can hope is that I can keep up in the face of everything he has planned for me.
And for our baby.