Chapter 2
Kiryan
Her spit tasted sweeter than usual that night, and I drank it down like I couldn't get enough.
When she finally started struggling for air, I let her go. Then I flipped her around. Isabella liked it rough. She always wanted me to take control of her body, push her harder, give her more.
I yanked her gown and panties out of the way and pinned her naked to the door.
Her round, full ass faced me. She'd always been slim, only her hips carrying any real softness.
But right then, her narrow waist and perky ass made a curve that hit me like a punch.
Maybe it was the low light, but her proportions looked damn near perfect.
The voice in my head screaming for me to get inside her proved it.
I stepped up behind her, lined up, and brushed my fingers over her slick, dripping slit. Her whole body jolted. Too sensitive. Too raw. Like she was new at this—like she'd cooked up some fresh little game.
That was Isabella, always finding a new way to play.
"Relax, baby," I said, giving her ass a quick pat.
She made me so hard it hurt. And she was so tight that when I pushed only halfway in, she damn near crushed me. Fuck. For a second I actually wondered if this was even Isabella. She was tight and wet like a virgin.
Usually she rocked her hips back, begging for it, working me with that slow squeeze-and-release that drove me insane. And sure, it was hot—no guy turned down a sex life that good. But this shy act? This silent, trembling thing? It got under my skin in a way I couldn't shake.
I liked the surprise. That sexy little demon.
"Baby, you're squeezing the hell out of me," I said through clenched teeth as I forced my way past the resistance.
"Ah!" Her back arched hard. She let out a sharp, pained cry—and then snapped her mouth shut like she'd swallowed it.
The pressure inside her almost made me blow like some damn rookie. I stayed buried in her for a few seconds, fighting it until the tight ache in my lower belly backed off, then I started moving again. She felt more frantic than usual, answering every thrust like her body couldn't help it.
"Why are you so wound up tonight?" I drove up into her, grinding against her walls.
She flinched, curling in on herself like she was trying to hold something back.
I hit harder. The door banged with each slam. Her ass had to move with my hips, helpless to it. I grabbed her pale cheeks. The full curve fit my palm perfectly, soft and springy, slick skin trying to slip away.
I didn't let it. I kept her right where I wanted her, squeezing and shaping her however the fuck I pleased.
She couldn't take it. She slid down the door, and somehow that only lifted her ass higher, her pussy clamping around me like a warm, greedy mouth.
"Look at you," I growled, yanking her hair back just enough to sting. "You're gonna drain me dry."
Isabella usually loved that. She normally screamed her head off. But for some reason, she kept refusing to make a sound.
Maybe that was part of the surprise. Maybe she'd wanted me drunk and stupid so she could play some different role tonight. That wasn't exactly unusual.
I pulled all the way out and drove back in. Wetness squeezed out around me, making everything slide with no resistance.
"You are fucking perfect," I snapped, speeding up, burying myself to the hilt every time. "You always pull some new shit. This pussy is made to please me."
Her breath broke loose, ragged and high, almost like she was about to cry, but she still wouldn't say the dirty words.
"Guess you need more," I said, biting the back of her neck and gripping her breasts, kneading hard. "Let me hear you, or I stop right now."
At the same time, I kept thrusting at a vicious angle, pounding that one spot. No woman held out against that.
"No!" she finally cried out—thin, shaking—and she came, spilling all over my cock.
I froze.
That voice wasn't Isabella's. Not even close. It wasn't sharp and loud the way Isabella always sounded. It was small. Trembling.
She wasn't Isabella.
I hooked my fingers under her chin and turned her face toward me. The wall sconce was too dim; I could only see her outline. I hit the switch.
The overhead light flared on, harsh white flooding the room.
And I saw her.
Flushed cheeks dusted with faint freckles. Damp strands of hair stuck to the side of her face. Big hazel eyes shining with wet, terrified light. She wasn't striking, not the way Isabella was, but I recognized her instantly.
I didn't know what the hell had gone wrong, or why Elena had ended up in my room.
She wrapped her arms over her chest like it meant anything, like she could hide what I'd just had in my hands. She wouldn't look at me. Like she was the victim here.
I pulled out of her immediately. Cold air hit, leaving an empty ache that made my body want to shove right back into that warmth. But I forced it down. Hard.
The woman who'd just fucked me, who'd just come on my cock, was my fiancée's sister. If she'd climbed into bed with her future brother-in-law, she'd better have had a damn good explanation.
"Elena, why the fuck are you in my room?" I snapped, clamping a hand on her shoulder.
Her lips were still swollen and red from the orgasm, but fear had swallowed her eyes whole.
"I went into the wrong room. I thought it was mine." Her voice came out so quiet I barely caught it. "You thought I was Isabella."
"You knew I had the wrong person. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried." She finally lifted her eyes. "At the start, I did."
I was about to call bullshit when a memory cut through the alcohol haze and stabbed straight into my head.
No. I hadn't—
She had tried. Her hands had been on my chest, pushing at me, trying to explain. And I'd shut her up with my mouth.
It didn't cool my anger. Not even a little.
"Fine." I nodded once, slow. "You said it at the beginning. Then what?"
Her lashes shook.
"After that, when I kissed you, why didn't you keep explaining? When I took your clothes off, why didn't you stop me? When I pushed inside you, why didn't you tell me to get the hell off?"
Isabella had said Elena looked at me weird sometimes. I'd brushed it off—young, awkward, didn't know how to act around her sister's fiancé. Looking back, all that blushing, the way she dodged my eyes, the silence... it had a different meaning now.
The color drained from her face. Her mouth moved, but no sound came.
"Answer me."
"I'm sorry."
It felt like punching a pillow.
"What are you sorry for?" I snarled, staring her down. "For walking into the wrong room? Or for trying to play games and seduce your sister's fiancé?"
"It's not like that." She shook her head, desperate. Her mouth opened, closed. "I just..."
I laughed under my breath. She was the ignored daughter in the Rossi family. And I could give her status, money, a last name nobody dared disrespect. If she pushed her sister aside, overnight she went from the second daughter nobody noticed to the lady of the Morozov house.
She wanted resources and respect through me? Wrong fucking man.
"Listen to me, Elena." I dug my fingers into her shoulder until she winced. "You're going to keep this rotting in your stomach. If you don't, I don't mind stuffing that secret into your chest and putting you in the ground."
I wasn't letting anyone ruin this wedding. Not just because of Isabella.
My guns already owned the market in New York. But if I wanted to keep expanding, I had to pull every useful resource into my hands. The Rossi shipping lanes in Southeast Asia were one of them.
"...I got it. I won't say anything." Sweat beaded on Elena's forehead. Her voice shook.
I let go. She crumpled to the floor like her legs had quit.
"Get out, you disgusting slut."
She reached for her dress where it had fallen. Bent like that, her soft breasts hung, her waist looked even slimmer, her ass even higher. She dressed too slowly. It was hard not to wonder if she was still trying something.
I sat on the edge of the bed and didn't look at her again. Finally, I heard the door open and close.
The room still stank of sex. The image of Elena bent over for me stayed burned behind my eyes.
My heart was with Isabella. That was the truth. Whatever I'd done to Elena had only happened because I'd mistaken her for Isabella. But that tight, gripping heat had left a brand on me. The thing between my legs had memorized it.
"Fuck," I muttered, dropping back onto the mattress. "She was goddamn tight."
So what the hell was I doing? Thinking about that slut's body? I was out of my mind.
I tried to fix it by falling asleep immediately, but the second I shut my eyes, I heard the door push open again.
"Why the fuck did you come back?"
It was past midnight. Everyone should've been asleep. Besides Elena crawling back, I couldn't imagine who else it could be. If she kept pushing, I wasn't sure I wouldn't just handle her the brutal way.
"Who came back?" Isabella's voice cut through the dark.
I shot up.
Isabella stood there with her arms crossed, glaring at me like I'd personally offended her.
"It was Elena, wasn't it?" she said, her tone sharp. "I just saw her leaving your room."
Fuck.
I knew it. The second I got tangled up with that damn woman, nothing good came of it.