Chapter 7 – Raelyn #2
“Don’t hide from me, Raelyn,” he whispers, his voice dropping into that dangerous, tender register. He leans over me, his chest inches from mine. “I want to see every part of you while I make you mine. I want to see your eyes when I’m deep inside you, and I want to hear you scream my name.”
He kisses the soft skin of my inner thigh, his breath ghosting over me. “I’m going to be gentle, moya dusha, but I’m going to be thorough. You’re going to remember the way my hands feel on you for the rest of your life.”
Just when I wait for him to devour me completely, he pulls back from me completely. The absence of his heat leaves me feeling exposed and cold for a fleeting second, but then my breath hitches as he reaches for the hem of his own shirt.
He pulls it over his head in one fluid motion, muscles rippling across his chest and arms in the dim light.
Next come the sweatpants, kicked aside with a careless intensity, followed by his briefs.
My breath hitches, and my eyes widen, my gaze dropping and lingering on him.
I’ve never seen a man like this—so powerful, so large, so unapologetically there.
Konstantin catches the look on my face, and a dark, low laugh rumbles in his chest. It’s not mocking; it’s the sound of a predator who knows he’s already won.
“Don’t look so frightened, Raelyn,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet warning. “I told you I’d be careful with you.”
He climbs back atop me, his heavy, solid weight settling between my thighs. The sheer scale of him is overwhelming, making me feel small and delicate beneath him. He braces himself on his forearms, framing my head with his arms, his eyes locked onto mine with a fierce, unwavering focus.
“Look at me,” he commands softly, his hips brushing against mine, giving me a taste of the friction to come. “I want you to see exactly who’s taking you.”
He kisses me again, a deep, soul-stealing press of his lips that makes the rest of the world fade into a blur of heat and shadow. Just as I’m starting to settle into the rhythm of it, finding my footing in the storm, he pulls away.
His mouth migrates to the sensitive column of my throat, trailing fire toward my collarbone.
I arch my back, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he moves lower, circling my breasts with agonizingly slow, damp kisses.
I’m squirming under him now, my hips restlessly seeking a friction I can’t quite find, my breath coming in short, jagged gasps.
Konstantin pauses, his face hovering just inches from my chest, his gaze flashing with a wicked, knowing light.
“What do you want, Raelyn?” he asks, his voice a low, rough rasp.
“I want...more,” I choke out, my head tossing back against the pillow. “Please, Konstantin. More.”
He lets out a low, vibrating hum against my skin that sends a shiver straight to my core. “More? Like this?”
Before I can answer, he latches onto one nipple, taking me deep into the heat of his mouth.
A sharp, electric jolt of pure pleasure lances through me, and I scream—a raw, high sound that echoes off the walls.
My hands fly to the back of his head, my fingers tangling in his hair, trying to pull him closer and push him away all at once as the sensation threatens to shatter me completely.
He continues to suck while his hand plays with my other nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger with a steady, maddening rhythm.
I writhe beneath him, my body arching off the mattress, absolutely shocked at the sensations.
Oh. So this is how sex feels? I see now why people get addicted to it, why they lose their minds over it.
It’s not just touch; it’s a total takeover of the senses.
The way he sucks, then grazes the sensitive skin with his teeth before poking the center with the tip of his tongue—it’s pure magic. Every flick sends a fresh spark straight to the ache between my thighs.
Just as I think I can’t take any more, he pops my nipple out of his mouth, the wet air hitting the tip and making me gasp. He moves to the other side immediately, his mouth hot and demanding on the twin peak, while his hand begins a slow, torturous descent.
His palm is large and warm as it snakes down the center of my body, over the curve of my ribs and the flat of my stomach.
My breath hitches as he reaches the cluster of curls between my legs.
He doesn’t go inside yet; he just cups me through the moisture that’s already gathered there, his fingers pressing firmly against my center.
I let out a broken moan, my knees falling open instinctively, inviting him to do whatever he wants.
I feel his fingers slide through the slick evidence of how much I want him.
Konstantin stills for a heartbeat, his head lifting from my breast just enough to look down at where we are joined. A dark, predatory satisfaction lights up his lustful eyes.
“Look at you,” he rasps, his voice thick with a heavy, masculine pride. “Sopping wet for me, Raelyn. You’re practically begging for it, aren’t you? You’re dripping just at the thought of me being inside you, my virgin wife.”
The bluntness of his words should make me recoil, but it only makes the fire in my belly roar. I’m delirious, my head thrashing against the pillow, my voice lost to a series of broken, high-pitched screams.
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He latches back onto my nipple, sucking with a renewed, fierce intensity while his hand moves with a mind of its own. He slides one long finger into me, then another, testing the stretch, the tight heat of my virginity.
I’m completely undone. Every time he thrusts his fingers, I scream again, my hips bucking upward to meet him.
It’s too much—the pulling at my breast, the invasion between my legs, the sheer, overwhelming size of him looming over me.
I’m lost in a haze of white-hot sensation, my trembling trust turning into a frantic, physical demand for him to finally end this exquisite torture.
“Please,” I sob, my hands clutching at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. “Konstantin, please…stop holding back. I can’t…I need you.”
He pulls his mouth from my breast, a dark, amused chuckle vibrating deep in his chest. He looks down at me, his face a mask of controlled hunger. “I’m a big man, moya dusha,” he murmurs, his voice a low, warning rumble. “I want to make sure you’re fully ready for me. I don’t want to break you.”
“I am,” I gasp, my legs trembling as they fall even wider. “I’m ready. Please.”
His eyes flash, the storm-gray turning almost black. “Oh? Well, let’s test that.”
He doesn’t go for his protection. Instead, he moves down my body, his mouth leaving a trail of fire across my stomach. I watch, breathless and shivering, as he takes hold of my thighs and pushes them back, pinning my legs wide apart until I’m completely, shamelessly open to him.
The cool air hits me for only a second before the heat of his breath replaces it. Then, he leans in and slurps at my center with a long, firm stroke of his tongue.
The sensation is so sharp, so direct, that my vision literally goes white. I let out a jagged, echoing scream, my fingers tangling in the bedsheets as he settles in, his tongue working with a relentless, rhythmic greed that tells me he isn’t going to stop until I’m completely undone.
He doesn’t give me a moment to recover. His tongue is relentless, a firm, rhythmic pressure that targets the very center of the storm.
Every lap, every deep, wet suction makes my thighs quiver uncontrollably.
I’m lost, my hands flailing until they find the headboard, gripping the wood so hard my knuckles turn white.
The world narrows down to that single point of contact.
It’s too much—it’s perfect. I feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, a spring wound to the breaking point, and then it snaps.
I go rigid, a low, guttural cry tearing from my throat as the first wave of the orgasm crashes over me.
My muscles pulse around his tongue, and I’m dimly aware of my own voice sobbing out his name as I come completely undone, shattering into a thousand burning pieces.
Konstantin stays with me through every shudder, his hands heavy on my thighs, anchoring me until the last of the tremors begins to fade.
Finally, he pulls back, his face flushed and his breathing as ragged as mine. He looks at me—really looks at me—with an expression that borders on agony. He lets out a low, dark swear in his native tongue, his jaw tight enough to crack.
“God, you are torture,” he rasps, his voice cracking with the strain of his restraint. He looms over me, a shadow of pure, concentrated need. “You’re going to be the end of me, Raelyn. I can feel it.”
He doesn’t wait for me to find my breath. He moves between my legs again, his body a hot, heavy weight that I finally, desperately, want to carry.
He doesn’t just sink into me. He moves with an agonizing, deliberate slowness that makes my heart swell even more than the physical sensation. He braces himself above me, his arms shaking with the effort of holding back his own massive weight and his even more massive hunger.
I feel the first press of him—blunt, heavy, and daunting. My breath hitches, my body instinctively tensing at the sheer size of what I’m asking for.
“Easy, moya dusha,” he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing vibration that settles right into my bones. He leans down, capturing my lips in a kiss that tastes like the salt of my skin and the heat of his promise. “Just breathe for me. Look at me.”
I open my eyes, finding his storm-gray gaze. It’s no longer just predatory; it’s anchored with a profound tenderness. He enters me just a fraction, a slow, steady inch that stretches me in ways I never imagined.
“Does that hurt?” he whispers, his forehead resting against mine. “Tell me to stop, Raelyn, and I will. I swear it.”
“No,” I gasp, my hands sliding up his back, feeling the damp heat of his skin. “Don’t stop. I want you.”