Chapter 10
Zara
We stumble through the door, and Nikolai’s barely got it shut before I’m pulling him toward the bedroom. I shove him on the bed, his handsome face with that rugged jaw and full lips making my stomach melt. My pulse is racing, nerves still present but mostly drowned by want, need, furious desire.
“Zara,” he growls.
I climb on him, my hands trembling as I slide them up his chest.
“Wanna take care of you,” I mutter, trying to sound sure, but my inexperience has me nervous as hell.
I start slow, tracing his shoulders through his suit, feeling the hard muscle under the fabric of his shirt.
I fumble with his jacket, let it drop, then move to his shirt, popping the buttons one by one.
My fingers are clumsy, but I’m determined to please my man.
Then Nik’s chest comes bare… broad and tanned, with scars and tattoos, dark hair trailing down to his abs.
I lean in to brush my lips over a scar, tasting him, and he groans, his big hands flexing around my waist.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, and I grin, sliding my hands lower, feeling his muscles ripple.
I lick a tattoo and he shudders. His scent is flooding my nose, making me dizzy. I move to his neck, kissing slow, sucking, tasting his pulse, and he groans, his huge hands gripping my hips.
“Teasing me, huh?” he mutters, and I nod with a grin, dragging my nails down his chest, watching his muscles flex, loving how he reacts, my own body burning up.
I unbuckle his belt with shaking hands and tug his pants down, fumbling with the zipper.
I get them off, and his thighs… thick, muscled, tanned skin soft over hard muscles…
make my mouth water. His cock springs free, huge and veined, the head glistening, bobbing as he shifts, and I stare, breath catching, face burning.
“I’ve never done this,” I admit in a small voice, and he chuckles.
“I’ll teach you,” he says, his low voice making my nipples harden.
I wrap my hand around him, feeling the heat, the pulse, and stroke slow, unsure as hell.
“Like this?” I ask, and he groans, hips jerking.
“Yeah, just like that,” he rasps. “Squeeze a little. Up and down.”
I do, feeling him throb, and the smell of him, raw, all male, hits me, making my pussy flood, soaking my panties.
I lean in, lick the tip, tasting that salty precum, and he curses, “Fuck, Zara, that’s it.” His hand slides into my hair. Holding. Guiding. And I take him in my mouth, stretching wide, sucking tentatively.
When my teeth graze him, he hisses. “Easy, baby. Lips over your teeth. Slide down. Use your tongue.”
I try again, tongue flat against him, and he groans, “Good girl, just like that.” The praise sends a jolt straight to my clit. And the taste of him floods my mouth, salty and thick. I moan around him, the vibration making his hips jerk. His hand tightens in my hair. Not guiding anymore. Gripping.
“Deeper,” he rasps, voice rougher. Darker. The patient teacher is gone. The Butcher is here.
I take him as deep as I can and gag, spit at the corners of my mouth, tears filling my eyes. I try to pull back, but his fist holds me there.
“Hold it,” he grits out. “Right there. Fuck, look at you.” His thumb brushes the tear rolling down my cheek, smearing it across my skin. “Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. My wife on her knees with tears on her face and my cock down her throat.”
My pussy clenches so hard it aches.
He eases back, lets me gasp for air, spit trailing from my lips to his cock. Then he feeds himself back in, slow, watching my mouth stretch around him with eyes so dark they’re almost black.
“You know what you look like right now?” he mutters, fucking into my mouth with shallow thrusts that make obscene wet sounds fill the room. “You look like you were made for this. Made for choking on my cock with tears running down your pretty face.”
I whimper around him, and the sound makes his hips snap harder.
His hand fists my hair, pulling enough to sting, and I take it.
I take all of it. Gagging, drooling, the tears, and loving every filthy second because the most powerful man in the city is shaking for me.
His thighs are trembling. His abs, tight. His breaths, ragged and broken.
I’m doing that to him. Me.
“Fuck, wife,” he groans. He thrusts deep, hitting the back of my throat, and I choke, spit dripping down my chin, down his balls, and he curses so loud it echoes off the walls. “Shit, Zara… too fucking good. Gonna blow down your throat if you keep… fuck!”
I hum around him, hollowing my cheeks, sucking harder, and he loses it.
His hips buck wildly, fucking my face, both hands in my hair now, holding me in place while he takes what he needs.
And I let him. I open wider, breathing through it, swallowing around him, and the groan he lets out is guttural. Animal.
But just when I feel him tense, about to come, he yanks me off. I gasp, dizzy, spit hanging from my swollen lips to his cock in strings. He stares at my face, wrecked, wet, mascara-streaked, and something feral moves across his features.
“On your back,” he snarls. “Now.”
He doesn’t wait for me to move. He hauls me up and throws me on the bed, flipping me before I bounce. Then he’s over me, spinning us into 69, his heavy thighs framing my face, his cock right above my mouth, dripping with my spit and his precum.
“Open,” he orders from between my legs.
I open. Take him back in. And his mouth crashes on my pussy like a starving man.
He eats me like he’s punishing me for making him lose control.
Licking, sucking so hard my hips buck off the bed.
His stubble scrapes my inner thighs, rough and burning, and he shoves three fingers inside me without warning, pumping fast, curling, hitting a spot inside me that makes my eyes roll back.
I scream around his cock, the vibration making him groan into my cunt, and the sensation of his voice against my most sensitive flesh makes me fucking unravel.
My orgasm slams through me, violent and endless, my pussy clenching around his fingers, my thighs trying to crush his head, my whole body shaking.
He doesn’t let up. Keeps licking, fingering, sucking until another climax crashes into the first one, rolling through me in waves that make me sob around his cock.
“That’s it, baby,” he growls against my pussy, “keep coming for me, keep choking on my cock, that’s my good fucking girl…”
He thrusts into my mouth one last time, deep, and I feel him pulse, hot and thick, spilling down my throat.
I swallow what I can, the rest leaking from the corners of my mouth, his taste, salty, addictive, him, flooding my senses.
He roars into my cunt, his whole body locking up, his fingers still buried inside me, and I come again, this third time is weaker but just as devastating, my body feels wrung out and trembling.
Nik collapses next to me, pulling me against him, both of us spent. Breathing hard, skin sticky, the room smelling like sex and sweat and us.
I wipe my chin with the back of my hand. My jaw aches. My throat is raw. My eyes are swollen from crying.
And I feel powerful. Alive. Fucking wrecked in the best way.
“Where the fuck did that come from, baby?” he rasps, chest heaving, grinning tiredly.
I giggle and bury my face in his chest. I don’t have an answer. Because I didn’t know I had it in me either.