Chapter 10 Danica #2
"We're married, aren't we?" I twist the ring off my finger and slap it into his palm. "Or does this mean nothing to you?"
His fingers close around the ring and then around my wrist. He pulls me forward with more force than I expect, and I stumble into him. His mouth finds mine again, and this time, there's nothing gentle about it.
He kisses me like he's trying to consume me.
His hand tangles in my hair and holds me in place while his tongue invades my mouth.
I kiss him back just as hard and dig my fingers into his shoulders.
He makes a sound low in his throat that vibrates through my chest violently as he slides the ring back on my finger like he's claiming me.
"You don't know what you're asking for," he growls, but I do. And I want it.
"Then show me," I tell him defiantly.
I stumble into him as he yanks me forward, my chest colliding with his body.
His mouth slams down on mine again, and the kiss devours—lips bruising, tongue thrusting deep, tasting of blood and brandy.
My fingers curl into the open edges of his shirt, gripping fabric and skin beneath, nails scraping as heat coils tight in my core.
I kiss him back with everything I have as anger fuels the fire, lust overriding every rational thought screaming that this man forced a ring on my finger earlier today.
He growls low in his throat, and the vibration travels straight to my clit. His hand fists my hair, pulling my head back to angle me deeper into the kiss while his other hand grips my hip hard while he grinds his pelvis on my thigh.
Then he releases my wrist and steps back, leaning against the counter to watch. "Undress for me. Show me everything." At first, I stand there shocked. This isn't how it's supposed to go, right? I mean, he's supposed to undress me passionately and then come at me. Not this.
But I don't want to do what he's been doing and send him mixed signals.
My fingers tremble as I grasp the hem of my T-shirt.
I lift it up, the fabric sliding over my skin, exposing my stomach first, then my ribs, and finally my breasts.
The cool air hits me, making my nipples harden as I pull it over my head and let it drop to the floor, standing there half-naked under his scrutiny.
"Shorts next," he instructs. "Slide them down."
I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts, pushing them past my hips.
They catch on my thighs for a moment before I shimmy them lower, bending slightly to step out of them.
No panties underneath. I feel exposed and vulnerable, but the heat in his eyes spurs me on.
I kick the shorts aside, now completely bare.
"Touch yourself," he says. "Show me how wet you are."
I swallow hard as my hand drifts down my body. My fingers find the slick moisture between my legs, and I groan at the contact while I circle my clit.
"That's it," he murmurs.
The contact feels good, but this isn't what I'm wanting and he knows it. Still, I rub my clit and look at him through hooded eyes as I perch on the edge of his table and spread myself.
"God, you're sexy." He reaches for his belt, unbuckling it with one hand while holding his ribs with the other.
The leather whispers as he pulls it free, then pops the button on his jeans.
He unzips them, shoving the denim down his thighs along with his boxers.
His cock springs free, and he wraps his hand around the base, stroking upward.
"Look at me," he commands. "See what you do to me. "
I watch him pump his fist along his shaft, and my fingers move more quickly, dipping inside myself.
Pleasure coils tight in my belly and my body contracts as I anticipate him entering me.
Maybe this is more erotic than his just bending me over and fucking me, the way his eyes are glued to everything I'm doing while he stares at me in a lust-induced haze.
He stays leaning against the counter, stroking himself, with his eyes locked on my fingers as they circle my clit in slow, tentative strokes.
The slickness builds, but pleasure stays distant—teasing me, not consuming me.
But my breath is shallow as I plead with my body to cooperate.
The alcohol has dulled my nerves. I need his hands on me to make this good.
"Look at you," he says quietly. "Look at that pretty pink pussy dripping."
I bite my lip, pressing my fingers harder so the ache grows, yet release stays frustratingly out of reach.
"Spread wider," he orders. "Show me every inch."
I slide my feet farther apart and rest each foot on a chair, knees falling open.
My other hand joins, one circling my clit while two fingers dip inside, curling just inside my entrance to where it feels the best, and Vadim strokes himself faster.
His dick glistens with precum beading on his head, and it makes me groan. I want him inside me.
"Good. Keep going. Make yourself ache for it."
This is torture. Normal men don't do this. They want to enjoy the fruits, not watch them. But he's drawing this out and making it agonizing.
My voice cracks as I say, "Please."
"Please what?" He steps closer, and his cock bobs as he lets go and pulls his shirt off, then shucks his pants all the way. "You want to come?"
"Yes," I whimper as I watch him toe off his boots and step out of his pants. His body is incredible. Muscle shifts and moves under his tattoo-covered skin, and with biceps like that, it's no wonder he's able to toss me around like a rag doll.
"Then earn it." His free hand grips my knee, thumb pressing into the soft skin. "Finger yourself deeper. Tell me how empty you feel without my cock."
I push two fingers in fully, then add a third, stretching myself. "Empty," I gasp. "So fucking empty…" Now we're getting somewhere. This is starting to feel incredible, but I still want him, not this.
He groans low as his fist returns to his shaft. "Not yet. Keep working that greedy pussy. Show me you can take more."
My head falls back and my nips roll upward as my coil tightens and my body clenches around my own fingers. I could come just from this, so maybe he knows what he's doing.
Vadim watches every movement, every flutter of my fingers, every twitch of my thighs.
"Beautiful," he mutters. "So desperate."
I whimper, fingers pumping faster. "Vadim—Oh, God—"
The pleasure is so incredible, I don't want to stop, and with the alcohol numbing things, I'm shocked I've gotten this far, but I'm going to come. The way he talks to me is pushing my buttons. My hips buck up, and my cunt starts to tighten, and then he grips my wrist and pulls my fingers away.
"Stop," he says.
My hand freezes mid-motion. I whimper, body throbbing, clit swollen and aching. The near-release dissipates slowly as I look up at him and with pleading eyes try to decide what he's doing.
He steps forward and spreads my thighs wider with his palms before he positions himself at my entrance. His thick head nudges my slick folds, teasing me again, and I watch his jaw work as he grits his teeth and looks me in the eye.
"I'm gonna fuck you now," he growls, "until you can't walk straight, and you're never gonna be the same woman again."
His words make me shudder, and I don't know what to say in response to that, but my hips lift a little. My body demands to be satisfied one way or another, and drunk me won't be happy unless I have what I want.
Vadim thrusts in hard, sliding all the way to my back wall with a grunt. I groan a deep sound as my walls stretch around his thickness and flutter as he slows and settles himself. He stays buried for a second, letting me adjust, then starts moving in long, powerful strokes that rock the table.
"Perfect," he grunts. "My God, this feels incredible."
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as the table wobbles and his hands grip my hips. "Oh God… yes," I whimper, wishing I could reach his sides to pull him in deeper.
But he knows what he's doing. The tiny little thrusts he uses get me right to the edge and hold me there until his hand slaps my ass and sharp heat blooms across my skin. The sting pushes me closer until I’m gasping and ready to let go.
"Fuck, Danica," he growls. "God, your cunt is made for me."
The pressure coils tightly in my core and then his thumb finds my clit, rubbing circles in time with his thrusts. My body tenses, breath hitching, and I arch upward into the sensations as my eyes flutter shut.
"I'm… Yes… Now…" I pant, and all I can do is pull my own hair because I can't find anything to hold on to.
"Come for me," he says. "Let me feel it."
The orgasm hits hard. My pussy clamps down on him in violent spasms, waves crashing through me as my thighs shake and my vision blurs. I groan and mutter curses as my moisture coats us both and the release leaves me trembling.
Vadim groans and his thrusts turn erratic. "Oh, yeah," he groans as his cock swells, then erupts inside me. Hot, thick spurts flood my body. He grinds in deep, emptying every pulse into me with his body shuddering against mine until he's spent.
We stay locked together, breathing raggedly as relaxation sinks into every fiber of my being, and I realize I am far more drunk than I thought. I could pass out right here, splayed out on his kitchen table like I'm his breakfast. But he has the decency to help me.
He pulls out, and I feel a cloth, probably the same one I used to clean his wounds. It wipes across my still-pulsing core and down my thighs. I mumble incoherently as he takes my wrist and pulls me to my feet.
I'm not sure what I expect, but my eyes blink open to see him so close to me, it's startling. "Wow," I moan, and it comes out in a slur.
"Wow is right…" His hands steady me as I sway and reach for the brandy, and he chuckles at me as I have a long swig of it. "Save some for me."
Vadim takes the bottle from me, and I lay my head on his chest as I listen to him drink from it. "Does this mean we're really married now?" I ask lazily, now clinging to him.
"We were always really married, woman. This just means you're mine now." I hear him set the bottle down, feel his arms encircle my body and his lips claim mine. This kiss is just as hungry but not so demanding.
I try to think of something to say, but I can barely stand at this point. Vadim seems to pick up on that, and he stoops to hook his arms behind my shoulders and around my knees as he hoists me off the ground.
I think I'm out before I even hit the bed, dreaming of the way he made me feel.
God, I'm going to regret this in the morning.