Chapter Two
Becca
Niko and Sergei are still in Andrei’s office, while I sit here studying my cold coffee and pretend I’m not waiting to catch another glimpse of Niko’s beautiful body.
He’s the epitome of a modern Russian God. Sharp features, dark, thick hair and a perfectly trimmed beard.Zero percent body fat, and every inch of those sexy muscles are covered with intimidating tattoos. The way his black eyes drill into me, while maintaining that don’t-give-a-fuck expression. I’ve gone through many vibrators while imagining his most important muscle railing me.
I hate myself for pining after him. Ever since the day I met him, I’ve placed him on a pedestal, and who would blame me? The man is larger than life. On the outside he looked like a normal college kid, but even as a hormonal teenager, I knew there was more. He was more. He’s always had this intensity and dangerous air about him, and once he found his rightful place in the Bratva, he morphed into the beast he was meant to be. An utterly, magnificently, terrifying beast.
My beast, if only in my fantasies. Sane people would run from him, but I want all the terrifying parts that make up Niko Petrova. But he’ll always think of me as an awkward teenager or worse, his kid sister. Fuck if he doesn’t soak my panties every time he walks into a room. It’s wrong in so many ways, which just makes me want him more.
He runs so hot and cold, I never know what he’s truly thinking, a good attribute for a cold-hearted killer.
There are times his dark eyes melt me with the heat of a lover, but then others when he freezes me out and treats me like a na?ve little girl. And my least favorite, when he stares me down with that glare of annoyance, like I just got caught coming in after curfew.
He’s infuriating.
But I still want him.
I wish I could forget that night, all those years ago. My family threw me a birthday party when I turned twenty-one and after six-too-many drinks, I stalked him out of the ballroom and onto the balcony. I thought I was so sexy, how I strode up to him, wobbling on my designer heels. I pursed my lip-stick smeared lips and ran my fingers down his chest. His hooded eyes bore into me and his large hands landed on my waist tugging me towards him. I thought he wanted me as much as I wanted him, but when I leaned in for a kiss, he abruptly pushed me away. I barely stayed upright as he roughly brushed his sleeves like he was trying to rid himself of my stench.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, he crushed my already broken heart into shattered pieces of agony, when he said, This will never happen, Printsessa. I can never be your prince. We don’t live in some fucking fairytale you read to yourself every night.
That night, as I sobbed into my pillow, I promised myself Niko Petrova would never hurt me again. So, every day, I wear my entitled rich bitch armor and act like he doesn’t exist. The problem is, I can’t hate him no matter how hard I’ve tried.
I want to shake him and scream how wrong he is. Yes, I want a fairytale, but I’m not looking for the kind he insinuated. I’ve never wanted a prince or knight in shining armor. I want a strong, powerful warrior. A tatted Russian killer who will slice my enemies’ throat without a second thought. I want a man who will strip me of this exhausting role I’m forced to play. I want to lay bare before him and be seen for the first time in my life. I dream of him welcoming my jagged pieces, accepting my dark corners, and nurturing my insatiable hunger.
And then I want him to take me as his. I want him to love and cherish me, but I need him to own and possess me.
I’m not na?ve, and I understand the world I live in. I’m a Sokolov, which makes me untouchable, and if I say the word my cousins will destroy my enemies. Whether they tried to murder me or merely cut me off in traffic, that’s the kind of power I hold.
But, my body is also untouchable. I can’t find a brave enough man who will have dinner with me, let alone give me what I so desperately desire. If only Niko knew the truth of the fairytales I dream at night. I dream of him biting my skin, sucking my tits, and slamming his dick into my pussy so hard and fast, over and over, until I scream his name. It feels so real that some mornings I wake up wrapped in soaked sheets.
Yes, I have sex, but it’s always drunken one-night-stands. I may act like a bitch, but I would never put some unknowing bastard in the crosshairs of the Bratva. I might as well sign their death warrant.
So, unsatisfying one-night-stands it is. One-and-done is safer for everyone. I tried serious once, and it was a disaster, and that’s putting it lightly. The one saving grace was my crazy family having no idea. And hopefully, they never will.
Since then, I’ve stayed clear of anyone even remotely interesting.
Sergei’s suggested I date one of their men, one he approves of, but there is only one, and every time my cousin brings it up in front of Niko, he looks like he rather jump into oncoming traffic. I’ve seen his reaction enough now to expect it, but it doesn’t hurt any less.
Summer waddles into the kitchen, wearing maternity yoga pants and her tank top stretches across her belly bump as her blonde hair flows over her shoulders. She’s glowing.
“I’m a house.”
“The most stunning house. How are you feeling?”
“Better now that the baby’s room is ready. I really appreciate you painting the mural. It’s so beautiful.”
My father swears my love of everything art comes from my mother. She was an up-and-coming sculptor in Russia, but she died when I was two. It was just me and my father for the next six years, until we moved to Las Vegas. I missed having a mother but my father showered me with all the love I could ever need or want, and my favorite memories are of our weekend visits to museums and galleries. Even after we moved to the States we had a standing weekend date. The older I got, the longer I would spend in front of pieces, studying and immersing myself in them, trying to connect with the artist.
I put on a facade that I’m entitled with little substance, only concerned with drinking, dancing, and fucking random guys, but there’s more to me than shopping and clubbing. If anyone cared to get to know me, really get to know and see me, they’d see a woman who’s passionate about so much more.
Honestly, other than the distillery, I’d rather spend my time at The Bellagio Gallery of Fine Art, admiring Picassos and Andy Warhol’s or at The Centaur Gallery studying pieces from Renoir and Dali. Art probably isn’t the first thing one imagines when they think of Las Vegas, but beyond the casinos and live shows is a robust art scene.
My idea of a perfect night isn’t dining at the trendiest restaurant or drinking at the it club of the week. I’d rather walk the downtown streets, eat from food carts, and marvel at the beautiful murals our talented locals have created.
I dream of selling my work in one of the twenty galleries at The Arts Factory, but the Sokolov name strikes again. Sure, I could easily use it to sell my paintings, but I don’t want success based solely on my name. I want my pieces recognized because of my talent. If I even have talent.
Just recently and at the urging of my best friend, Anya, I’ve reached out to a couple out-of-state galleries, under the name Laney Levowski. One gallery in Sedona requested a meeting and even selected a couple pieces to display, but I haven’t shared the news with anyone other than Anya.
She’s the only true friend I have, even more like a sister. Her mother, Maura, and my Aunt Zoya were best friends, so we grew up together.
I do have other friends, Trish and Mira, who I met in college, but we don’t discuss anything remotely serious. Our topics of conversation are clothes, makeup, and men. And I’m totally okay with that.
I’m grateful my cousins fell in love and I now have Summer and Tali in my life, but Anya is the only one who knows about the gallery in Sedona and my fears of my art collecting dust, until one day the owner puts me out of my misery and replaces it with a piece actually worthy of the space.
I could tell my family and I know they would say they’re happy for me, but they have their own lives to worry about. Summer and Andrei are about to become new parents, Natalia is working on her first book, and Andrei and Sergei are busy ruling their empire. My life feels so trivial compared to theirs.’
It’s hard to be a Sokolov, and I know my cousins endure the brunt of it. I thought Andrei was crazy, stalking Summer and setting up her abusive, gambling boyfriend in order to trick her into being his. It’s unorthodox, but thankfully it worked out. She’s just as crazy as him and they’ve been crazy together since the day he brought her home.
When Sergei fell in love we were all stunned, especially him. Natalia’s father had sold her virginity to Rocco Netti, the mobster, but Sergei rescued her. And then he hunted down the monsters who tormented her. I never thought Sergei, the Zmei , would fall in love, but when the serpent did, he fell hard.
Andrei, Sergei and Niko finally enter the kitchen and Andrei hugs Summer close, “ Mamushka .” He rubs her swollen belly, and the ruthless man’s eyes fill with adoring affection.
For years I’ve felt alone, so believe me, I’m incredibly grateful for Sergei and Andrei falling in love with Summer and Tali. They have some understanding of what it’s like to be a Sokolov woman, with one huge exception. They are allowed to love and be loved, whereas finding love is out of the question for me. First, I’d have to date a guy more than once, and what if he broke my heart? Do I really want my family to murder him?
I thought I found that guy once and luckily I hadn’t introduced him to my family, which is the only reason he’s still walking the earth. Not like he deserves it.
I know I’m lucky. If Andrei or Sergei wanted to, they could marry me off to another crime family to strengthen an alliance.
Thankfully, they haven’t, and I have to trust they never will.
Andrei’s happiness quickly morphs into the serious glare of a Bratva boss, and his target is me. He whispers something in Summer’s ear and her eyes widen as she clutches her chest.
Her face is shadowed in sympathy and fear, and her tone is desperate and urgent, “Bec, please listen to them. I’m so sorry.” She hugs me tight before rushing out of the room and I blink several times trying to digest what she means.
Sergei, Andrei and Niko surround me with their huge, inked arms and angry Russian scowls. They would terrify even the most ruthless criminal, but I’m also a Sokolov, so I stand, my spine iron-rod, my lips pressed in a thin line, my eyes fierce, and my shaky hands clenched.
“What is going on?”
Sergei is never one to beat around the bush. “Your life was threatened, Becca.”
Did I hear him correctly? “Me? What kind of fucked up joke is this?”
Andrei crosses his arms. “Do we ever joke about threats?”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t joke period. Come on, this isn’t funny.”
“It isn’t funny and it isn’t a joke, and you need to take it seriously.”
Niko’s voice is low, also lacking any humor. “The distillery received a threatening email message, yesterday.”
“So? What does that have to do with me?”
“Becca, the threat was against you. Your life was threatened.”
“Fuck whoever did it, they’ll be dead in a matter of days.”
“Until then, we need to take precautions.” Andrei’s tone is stern.
“Wait, what kind of precautions? If you think I’m going to stop my life for some coward, you’re wrong.”
Niko is right in front of me now, his thick, inked arms crossed, and his stance wide and threatening. One muscular arm is painted in blood dripping knives piercing a skull’s hollowed eyes while the other flexes a red, thorny rose wrapped around a dagger.
“ Printsessa, this isn’t up for discussion”
He knows that nickname grates my nerves. Calling me a princess and forbidding me to do something is a combination for combustion.
I encroach his personal space and poke my finger into his rock hard chest while trying to ignore his unique masculine scent. “That is the biggest joke of all.”
He rolls his eyes, “You can spare a few nights of partying. It isn’t going to kill you.”
“But it might you!”
Andrei demands, “You’re staying with Niko for a few days.”
Niko’s tone is a warning, “Let’s go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you! Unlike you, I have a life!”
“Of what? Bottomless mimosas and endless bags of shoes?”
“So what if it is? God forbid I don’t thrive on killing people!”
He smirks. “You don’t know until you try. Maybe you have the Sokolov gift.”
“Will you do me the honor of being my first?”
“Tsk tsk, Princess.”
“Has all the testosterone gone to your head? You wouldn’t stop your life because of some stupid threat, so why should I? Fuck this, I’m out of here.” I head towards the guestroom, but he blocks me with his hard body.
“Get out of my way.”
He looks back at Sergei and Andrei and they both nod. The next thing I know, I’m thrown over his shoulder and he’s walking towards the front door. I pound his back, but he easily ignores me. He yells to my cousins, “You know where we’ll be. Keep me updated, and when you find the fucker, I get to make the first cut.”
The palm of his huge hand lands on my ass, his fingers dangerously close to the hem of my shorts, and as much as I fight him, tingles surge through my body.
My ass lands on the leather seat of his SUV and he slams the door. I jiggle the handle but it doesn’t budge. I lunge towards the back seat in an attempt to escape, but he opens the driver’s side and grabs my hips. I try to wrestle out of his hold, but he grips my shorts and when I arch forward, they end up at my ankles. He growls and roughly yanks me back into his chest. My butt ends up on the driver’s seat and my legs are flung over the center console. He squeezes my waist, keeping me in place and surely leaving a bruise. I pant, trying to catch my breath, and my breasts rise and fall rapidly under my thin top. My cheeks heat at my precarious position, naked from the waist down with my pussy on full display. I’m one hundred percent appalled, but my body didn’t get the memo. My nipples are hard and my sex slickens with desire.
I swear he sucks in his breath.
Seconds pass with only our heavy breathing between us before his husky voice dominates the vehicle. “Try that again and I’ll spank that bare ass of yours.”
My face flames and the ache between my thighs intensifies.
“Move over and buckle up.”
I huff and climb over the console with the poise of a giraffe. I pull my shorts up, hopefully covering the scent of my arousal. I cross my arms over my thin tank top and pebbled nipples, and I glare at him, baring my teeth. I want to scratch his midnight eyes out.
“You won’t get away with this!”
He arches his eyebrows and I wait for his retort, but he dismisses me, turning away and ignoring me. He backs out of the driveway, and speeds through my cousin’s upscale neighborhood and onto the interstate, leaving the city.
“Aren’t we stopping at my condo?”
“Why? So you can try to escape again?”
Of course. “What about my clothes?”
“Tali.”
“Traitor.”
“She cares about you.”
“If she cared about me, she’d be on my side.”
“She is. The Sokolov Bratva side.”
“I can’t believe you are doing this to me!”
“To you?”
“Fucking cavemen! I didn’t ask for this!”
He abruptly swerves to the side of the road and screeches to a halt. I grab the door handle, but it’s still locked and the controls are hidden. Fancy fucking Bratva car.
He turns to me but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. His eyes darken and he licks his lower lip as he stares at me, making me shift nervously in my seat. He’s never looked at me like this, his eyes are heated and angry but there’s something else.
I must’ve imagined it because in a blink his face returns to its normal menacing self. His voice is callous and cold, sharp with annoyance. “Do you think this is a fucking walk in the park for me? Do you think this is how I want to spend my time, Printsessa ?”
“Like you had plans.” I snicker. “So sorry you’ll miss torturing some douchebag or smuggling in weapons.”
“Oh, I had plans. Plans to fuck not one but two women. One of them graduated top of her class in blow jobs and the other loves it when I slam my thick cock deep into her ass!”
I physically flinch. His words shouldn’t bother me, I shouldn’t care about his sexual escapades, but I have to bite my tongue against the threatening tears.
“But you know the best part?” He growls.
I turn towards the window not wanting to face him and his cruel words.
“They know how to shut the fuck up and do what they’re told!”
I cross my arms, biting my lip so hard that I draw blood. I taste copper as I stare straight ahead. I know he’s looking at me, waiting, wanting a reaction. I have a lot I want to say, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing the hurt in my voice. He finally pulls the SUV off the side of the road and continues driving me to my prison.
Thirty minutes later, he pulls up to a large gate with a timber sign overhead that reads Victory Ranch. He punches in a code and the gate opens. We travel a gravel road until we finally reach a massive rustic home with an equally large porch.
“Is all of this yours?”
“A little over forty acres.”
“How come I’ve never been here?”
He shrugs and pulls into the six car garage. This home is nothing like I’d picture Niko living in. I’ve known him forever, yet I’ve never been here. Why? Maybe because I never asked?
Or, he never invited me.
It’s huge but somehow maintains a cozy and inviting feel. The hand-hewn rock fireplace is the focal point of the living room, and numerous windows allow for plenty of natural light. Huge wooden beams keep the rustic feel of a cabin. The open floor plan invites gatherings and there’s expansive patios and decks to enjoy the beautiful outdoors. I immediately want to grab my paint brush.
“How many buildings are there?”
“A couple barns and an old caretaker residence I renovated. Dharma and her husband, Dan, live there.”
“Who are they?”
“Housekeeper and cook, and they’re loyal so don’t even think of asking them to help you escape.”
I hate that he can read my mind. I point to the stables, “Do you have horses?”
“Not yet.”
Well, there goes that idea.
I look outside and see a building on top of a hill with a dome glass roof. “What is that? A greenhouse?”
He ignores me and leads me through the living room and huge modern kitchen and up the stairs to the bedrooms. Each room has its own bathroom and large balcony. I step out onto mine and check to see how far the drop is.
He reads my mind yet again. “Don’t even think about it. It’s dangerous, and my security system is tighter than the Pentagon’s.”
I cross my arms leaving my back to him and mutter, “This is bullshit.”
At least the view of the canyons is spectacular. There’s no neighbors for as far as the eye can see. And no bars or restaurants. No wonder my cousins stuck me out here. Welcome to Boring-ville.
I turn and notice my suitcases at the edge of the bed and the reality of my situation hits me hard.
“Is this really necessary?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t sign up for this.”
“You already said that. Neither of us did.”
“Come on, Niko. This is ridiculous.”
“Do you think I’m enjoying this?”
I scoff, “Of course not. Your vivid play by play was very telling of what you’d rather be doing.”
A hint of remorse flashes across his face. “I didn’t….”
I interrupt him, “Save it. I’ve heard enough.”
“But yet you won’t listen.”
“Oh I listened alright.”
He invades my space, “Did you hear the part about you being in danger?”
“The only person who should be worried about their safety is you.”
He crosses his arms and smirks, “Attack me, Baby.”
I groan in exasperation, “I’m so sick of brut Russians controlling my life.”
“You say controlling. I say saving.”
“Conceited much?”
“The quicker you get use to the situation, the better off you’ll be.”
I feel defeated. His employees won’t help me, I can’t ride off on a horse, and the drop from my balcony would likely break a few bones. If I’m going to get out of here I need to do it now.
Adrenaline pulses through my veins as I speed past him, out the door and downstairs to the garage. His roar causes the entire house to shake, but I keep running. I hit the garage door opener and see the line of keys hanging on the wall. I grab one, click the remote and it unlocks a big black truck. I feel him on my heels as I weave around the other vehicles and open the door. My foot lands on the running board but his strong arms encircle my waist pulling me down.
I spin out of his grasp and stomp on his boot. It loosens his grip and I try to jump into the truck but he grabs the waistband of my shorts and tears them off. I manage to get in, and I grab the door to slam shut but his big burly fingers snatch my hair and he drags me out of the driver seat. I scream as he turns me upside down and tosses me over his shoulder. He carries me back into my prison, and I scratch, kick, and pound but he’s too big and strong for me.
I can feel his rage pumping through his veins. “That’s it. You are in trouble now.”
“Fuck you.”
His laugh is low and dark, “Oh, Printsessa , you have no idea.”
He hauls me into an office and locks the door. It smells like him mixed with the faint scent of cigar smoke. There is a massive ornate desk in the corner of the room, but the eyecatcher is the built-in bookcases and all the books themselves. These books aren’t for show. They’re stacked haphazardly like he read one and as soon as he finished it he laid it wherever he could find space, too excited to start the next one. I see some fiction thrillers and mysteries, but most of them are about astrology.
He dumps me onto the floor and sits in a worn leather chair.
“Hey!”
I start to my feet but both of his hands press on my shoulders, firm enough to keep me on my knees but gentle enough it doesn’t hurt. It’s surprising considering the anger engulfing him right now. Struggling with him has left me a mess. My hair has fallen out of the bun, my shorts are non-existent, and my tank top is twisted up, leaving a breast uncovered.
I reach for my top and he growls, “Don’t fucking move.” Something about his tone tells me to heed his warning.
“Maybe if you’re punished, you’ll behave.”
I scoff. “Punished? News flash, Niko. I’m not a kid anymore.”
He shifts in the chair. “Believe me, I’m well aware, Becca.”
He wraps my hair in his fist and tugs hard enough that my face ends up staring right at his crouch and the bulge of his jeans. I unconsciously wet my lips.
“Is that what you want? My cock?”
I scoff, “Never.”
He presses his boot in between my legs and nudges my knees apart. I try to hide my wetness with a glare, but he leans his face down and sniffs loudly. “Your words lie but your body tells the truth.”
“Fuck off!”
“In due time, Printsessa .”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Stop acting like it.”
He lets go of my hair and pats his lap.
My face reddens. “You don’t honestly think.”
“Oh, I do.”
“Oh no, I’m not some cheap replacement for your twin whores.”
“Noone could replace you.”
I ignore him, unable to even comprehend that statement. “I’m in danger and you think it’s a good time to play Daddy?”
It’s hard to read his expression and his soft voice confuses me. “I hate that you’re in danger, which is why you are here , with me . You refuse to obey, so fuck if I’m not going to fulfill a fantasy while also teaching you a lesson.”
I scoff, “This is not my fantasy.”
His dilated eyes bore into mine. “Who said it was yours?”
“I will never be your fantasy, so you can…...”
His huge hand wraps around the front of my throat, the threat of him cutting off my oxygen grabs my attention. His steely eyes bore into my soul.
“Every God damn night, Becca.” He loosens his hold but feral hunger crosses his face, hypnotizing me. “Every God. Damn. Night.”
My heart bangs against my ribs and my head spins from his words.
He whips me up with hardly any effort and my stomach lands against his lap and the hard bulge of his cock. The possibility of him spanking me has my sex clenching around nothing. Knowing it’s the wrong reaction, I try to wiggle out of his grasp, but while trying to break his hold, my clit sweeps against the roughness of his jeans, and I immediately see stars. Fuck. How can I be this close? He hasn’t even touched me there.
Commonsense tells me to fight, but my brain is short circuiting, and the only thing that matters is relieving the growing ache between my thighs. The pulsing of my sex is so intense, it’s almost painful. I don’t even realize I’m grinding my hips against him until a whimper escapes me.
His hitched breath snaps me back to reality, and my body tenses as I squeeze my eyes shut. Am I insane? Yes, I’m utterly, impossibly, terminally insane. Because all I can think about is how close I am to an orgasm.
His gruff voice is strained, “Fuck, Becca.” His hands caress the curves of my body over my waist, leaving a trail of tingles, until he’s locked onto my hips. His cock is a rod of steel pressed against my center. His fingers dig into my skin and he skims my body across his lap. My clit connects, and I let out a desperate moan.
It feels so good, and his voice rolls over me with permission. “Fuck yes.” Shame beckons me and my drenched pussy, but he won’t let me curl into myself. “Take it, Becca.”
I shake my head, staring at the carpet and unable to speak.
He skates my body across his again, and my swollen bud sings for more.
His voice is soft but firm, “It wasn’t a question. Take it.”
My eyes roll as he glides my body back and forth, the heavy need increasing with each stroke. Soon I’m consumed and chasing my orgasm without regret, grinding against him, searching desperately for release. I’m soaked and so close to coming, I need it more than anything. He keeps his hands on my body as I press my pussy into him and fuck the rough fabric, hitting my sweet spot just right. The ripple of ecstasy erupts within me, and I scream out as I come so hard the edge of my vision blurs. I continue to rub against the material, riding the wave into another, overwhelmed with the longest euphoric orgasm I’ve ever had. The tingles and pulsing aftershocks continue as I finally begin the descent from my high. My body falls limp while I catch my breath and slow my heartrate.
His baritone moan fills the air and embarrassment quickly returns. What the fuck did I just do? I grimace, tighten my already shut eyes, and brace for his brutal taunt but he doesn’t berate me. Instead, his fingers slowly slide between my legs and up towards my soaking slit.
His hand stills at my entry. “Fuck, Becca, tell me to stop.”
I don’t say a word. I’m in a wonderful haze of lust and I want more. I want him.
The caress of his fingers against my inner thigh pulls a mewl from my lips.
I don’t recognize his shaky whisper. “Becca, baby. Tell me….”
I stop him, whispering his own words, “Take it.”
He inhales sharply as his finger slips inside my sex. His groan is savage.
“So fucking wet. Fuck, and so beautiful when you come, the sounds you make, damn, that is my new favorite melody.”
He pumps two fingers into me and the slapping sound of my wetness sends a new surge of shame through me, but it’s quickly forgotten when he hits that perfect spot. I moan for more.
“So responsive. God, Becca, you’re soaked and so fucking tight.” He removes his fingers to turn me over so I’m facing up at him.
His expression is foreign, one of wonder and lust. “Open your legs for me, Baby. I want to see you come apart on my fingers.”
I try to turn away but he fists my hair, only using enough force to bring my face back to his. “Eyes on me.”
He looks at me like my pleasure is all that matters, like if he doesn’t give it to me he won’t survive. He continues to finger fuck me but I try to fight the growing pleasure. I’m so conflicted and confused.
But I want it so damn bad.
He answers my thoughts, “Don’t fight it. Don’t think. Let me give you what you need, Baby.”
He fills me with three fingers, sliding in and out of my wet sex, fucking me fast and hard.
My lust filled eyes search his and I beg, “More. I need more.”
“You like it rough?”
“Oh God. Please!”
“Such a good girl, you’ll take my cock so well won’t you?”
I moan as he continues to work my body into a frenzy.
His fingers feel so good, invading me and fucking me. He lifts his other hand to my mouth and pushes two fingers against my tongue. His voice is sexy and demanding, “Suck. Suck me like you want to suck my cock.”
I’m so far gone, and I don’t hesitate, sucking on his fingers imagining his cock in my mouth. He pounds his slick and messy fingers in and out of me, and I lose control, bucking against him, as he gags me, shoving his fingers into my mouth and making my eyes water.
He praises me with his dirty words, “Look at you, my little princess slut. So needy, starving. Is this what you’ll look like when you suck me. Such a dirty girl. My dirty princess.”
His husky words are what send me over the edge, and my pussy tightens around his fingers as my body shakes and I sob out his name. He reads my body, languidly pulling small waves of pleasure out of me until I can’t take anymore, but when he removes his fingers I instantly feel empty. His eyes never leave mine as he brings them to his mouth and sucks off my taste.
“So fucking good.”