Marie
I don’t know if I can stand.
I don’t know if I can breathe.
My body is wrecked.
My legs trembling, my skin flushed, my pussy still pulsing from what he’s done to me.
From how he’s marked me.
Filled me.
Made me his.
Viktor lifts me like I weigh nothing.
His strong arms wrap around me, steady and possessive.
I melt into him, letting my head rest against his broad chest.
His heart is pounding.
His skin is hot.
His scent—clean sweat, masculine musk, and something purely him—wraps around me, making me dizzy.
He carries me into the bathroom, the air thick with steam.
I should be embarrassed. I should be shy.
I’m bare, dripping with his cum, my thighs slick with the proof of what we just did. But he doesn’t look away. Doesn’t give me a chance to retreat.
He just steps into the vast shower, the hot water cascading over both of us from multiple heads .
I sigh as the heat soothes my sore muscles.
Viktor shifts, setting me on my feet.
I wobble. He grips my waist, steadying me.
“Easy, printsessa.”
I swallow hard, nodding.
His fingers trail over my back, down my spine, slow and deliberate.
I shiver, not from the water, but from him.
The way he touches me.
The way he owns me, even now.
His palms glide lower, over the curve of my ass, gripping, squeezing, parting.
I gasp, my pussy clenching painfully.
A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest.
“Still sensitive?”
I nod, my breath shuddering.
His hands slide to my hips, holding me steady as he presses against my back.
His cock—still hard, still thick—nuzzles between my cheeks, rubbing against my swollen folds.
I whimper, pressing my forehead to the shower wall.
It’s too much. Not enough. I don’t even know anymore.
“Look at you.” His voice is a rough murmur against my ear. “So fucking pretty when you’re ruined, printsessa.”
His hand slides down, fingers brushing over my clit.
I jolt.
My hips jerk forward, trying to escape.
He tightens his grip, trapping me against the slick marble tiles.
“Where do you think you’re going, baby?”
He teases me, dragging his fingers through my slick folds.
My body tenses, too sensitive, too raw.
I try to wiggle away.
I can’t.
He doesn’t let me.
His free hand moves to my throat, tilting my head back so his lips hover over mine.
“Gotta keep you messy with my cum, love.”
I whimper, my legs shaking.
His fingers find my entrance, slipping inside me.
Slow. Deep. Pressing right where he knows I need it.
“Viktor…”
I don’t even know what I’m asking for.
His name is a breathy plea on my lips.
He groans, thrusting his fingers deeper.
“You feel me dripping out of you, baby?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my body trembling.
He presses a hand low on my belly, pushing against the place where he fills me.
“That’s all me, printsessa.”
I whimper, my walls fluttering.
He nips my ear, his voice pure filth.
“And I’m not letting a drop go to waste.”
My legs nearly give out, my body too weak, too overwhelmed.
He catches me.
He always catches me.
His hands slide over my stomach, up to my breasts, cupping, kneading, rolling my nipples between his fingers.
I moan, my head dropping back against his chest.
The water streams over us, but all I feel is him.
His strength. His heat. His need.
The way he won’t stop touching me, won’t stop claiming me. Kissing and biting my neck, turning my face to take my mouth.
He groans, thick and low.
“Not fucking done with you, baby.”
My breath catches.
His grip tightens.
He tilts my chin, forces me to meet his gaze.
Then he smirks.
And says the words that make my stomach drop.
“Turn around. Hands on the wall.”