Chapter 25 #2
Then his mouth closes over my clit, and he suckles.
I jolt up the bed, his name tearing out of me at a pitch I barely recognize.
His grip tightens, holding me exactly where he wants as he works me with his tongue, his lips, his fingers.
Pleasure devours me, burning everything else away until it’s just us—no, just Vanya worshipping my body.
I scream his name into the mattress, again and again, the sound torn straight from my chest. Then he twists his fingers inside me, and my body locks, every nerve firing into a single, blinding pulse.
I arch off the bed with my head thrown back, a cry punching out of me so loud I’m sure it carries to the ground floor.
“That’s it, myshka. Scream my name.” His raspy words against my cunt draw out my pleasure even more, and I shudder, suspended in that perfect moment for another breathless second before collapsing back onto the bed, boneless.
He slowly pulls away. First his mouth, then his fingers, then the heat of him disappears entirely.
The sudden absence wrecks me. My body jerks against the cuffs, my thighs quivering with need as I turn my head to track him.
But he’s only going to the nightstand. A tremor runs through me as he takes out the box of condoms, anticipation and the dark promise of it winding tight.
He keeps his eyes locked on me as he opens the box and takes one out.
The rip of foil and sharp crinkle as he tears it open fill the charged silence.
My greedy pussy clenches again, anticipation spiraling through me.
I’ve never been this ravenous for a man, this insatiable.
It should give me pause, but I'm too far gone, too eager for him to care.
I watch, breathless, throat raw, nerves stretched thin as he rolls the condom over his perfect cock.
Heat floods my face at the memory of his hot flesh in my mouth.
I look back at his eyes, and the hunger there is palpable.
I’m about to be fucked into this mattress.
A shiver runs through me, my wrists aching against the cuffs from how hard I strain just to see him.
When he’s ready, he climbs onto the bed from behind me in one long, fluid movement.
His body crowds mine, his breath harsh against my shoulder as he adjusts my position, spreading me open wider, his hand gripping my hip like a claim.
Then he reaches down to grab his cock and slowly feeds it into me.
The first press of him is too much—too thick, too overwhelming.
I gasp into the mattress, the stretch biting, almost painful.
But the pain twists into something hotter, and I push back into it, desperate for more.
A raw, guttural groan spills from his chest as he sinks deeper, his body folding over mine like he wants to consume me whole.
His heat pours into my skin, his weight bearing down, and the bed starts to rock with his measured thrusts.
The sensation is brutal, almost too much to hold.
I can’t breathe around the fullness. My hands claw uselessly at his hard stomach, searching for something to anchor myself, but my wrists are still locked tight in the cuffs.
The helplessness of it, combined with his hot weight, drags a fractured moan from deep in my throat.
Then he withdraws slowly, only to drive back in harder.
Our groans mingle together in the air, and I bite down on the sheets as pleasure makes my vision blur.
Every thrust wrenches another sound from me—moans, curses, his name, ragged and cracked until my throat feels stripped bare.
He moves like he’s carving himself into me.
Steady and unhurried. His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes even at this angle.
The darkness there unravels me. The possessiveness makes me burn hotter than I ever thought possible.
“Mine,” he rasps, his voice breaking. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I choke out, my voice nothing but need. “All yours.” At that moment, there’s no denying it—I’m his. Body, soul, and heart. And that terrifies me—somehow the fear makes the pleasure sweeter.
The words snap something loose in him, his control finally shattering.
His rhythm shifts all at once—becoming harder, rougher, deeper.
My body jerks forward with each thrust, the cuffs biting into my wrists, my voice tumbling into moans that I couldn’t hold back even if I wanted to. He’s gone, and I go with him.
One of his arms hooks around my middle, and he hauls me up without effort, my body dragged against his chest, still impaled on him.
I half-moan, half-groan, the sound torn from somewhere deep inside.
His palm clamps down low on my belly, pressing hard, and the pressure makes my vision white-out.
My ears pop, the world going silent. Pleasure detonates through me like a live wire finding water.
My whole body seizes, and I’m screaming, I think, but I can’t hear myself.
I come so hard I lose all sense of where I am, aware only of the weight of him holding me, pounding into me, keeping me from falling apart completely.
When awareness returns, I’m face-down on the mattress, the leather cuffs being undone. His hands are rough yet careful as he frees my wrists, then he flips me onto my side. Before I can catch my breath, he’s inside me again, sliding deep with a groan.
This angle burns in a new way, igniting nerves I didn’t know existed. I cry out, clutching at the sheets. His chest presses against my back, his breath breaking against my neck.
His hand finds my breast, gripping firmly, while the other drops lower, sliding between my thighs until his fingers close over my swollen and slippery clit.
My body jolts violently, my moan sharp and high-pitched.
I can’t take it, but I can’t stop it either.
He works me with ruthless precision, pushing me higher while driving into me, owning every inch of me.
I’m shaking, crying out his name, begging without words.
Another release crashes into me so fast I claw at him, my nails digging into his side.
I feel the moment they break his skin, feel him snarl—a guttural, animal sound—and he drives harder, his teeth sinking into my shoulder as his own climax tears through him.
We shudder against each other, raw and uncontrolled, both of us wrung dry and burning.
The bed shakes under us, sweat slicks our skin, our breathing nothing but ragged panting.
When the storm finally passes, I collapse against him, utterly drained.
For a moment, it’s only silence and the weight of his arm keeping me tethered.
Then it hits. Terror. It floods me, sharp and cold under the heat still coating my skin.
I'm not the same woman who walked into his room. He's carved himself into me, claimed me in a way I can't undo, and that terrifies me more than anything. Because I know I can’t have him.
I wanted him to fall for me, but I’m the one who ended up falling.