Chapter 14 #2
No one knows, but I cannot fall asleep unless I watch her sleep for a few moments, lying in her bed in those strange positions.
I always wait until I am sure she is no longer awake, and I have always been lucky that she didn’t see me.
But when I open the door and step slowly into the room, she immediately sits up and looks at me with eyes full of something intense.
Visceral.
Something that turns my heart into fire, meant to burn and destroy, only for her.
When I die, I will want to remember this living spark in her eyes, filled with a feeling I don’t know how to interpret as anything but love, even though I’m sure that’s not the case.
“Artem...”
One whisper, and my world stops.
Hope, desire, perhaps longing too, all of it lives on the lips of the woman I have dreamed of for so many months. My body is controlled by her voice, and my heart beats harder as I approach the bed where she sits, watching my every move.
Ours.
We want her.
She must belong to us.
Yes. She will be ours.
With one knee on the edge of the mattress, I lean toward Katya and wrap my hand around the front of her throat, pulling her to me.
My lips are almost touching hers when I manage to cling to a single thread of consciousness and whisper roughly. “What spell did you cast on me, that made me unable to stay away from you?”
“If I knew how to do something like that, I would have made a voodoo doll.”
I almost smile, because there is no belief in her words. They are hoarse and filled with a heated shade that lures me closer.
“If it had made me stop wanting to touch you, I would’ve driven the needle into her myself.”
She sighs, and warm air slips between her parted lips, caressing my own.
“Why?” Katya asks, more and more lost in the way my finger touches the vein on her throat.
“Because I promised myself I would not touch you again. But look at me, with my fingers pressed into the bruises still marking your skin. A Pakhan doesn’t break his promise.”
“And yet, you are doing it now.”
I brush my mouth over her lower lip, light as a snowflake that only wants to taste her warmth before melting completely. But I move back a few inches to whisper in a broken voice she can barely hear.
“Do you want me to leave?”
If she says yes, I’m going to die.
Her warm, uneven breathing keeps wrecking my ability to think straight, blending with the delicate scent of jasmine shower gel, a fragrance that will haunt my dreams until the day I die.
“It’s wrong,” she answers, her voice tormented, heavy with desire and agony. “We’re not allowed...”
“Ekaterina.” My tone is harsh, drawing ever closer to ruin, my eyes fixed on her warm gaze. “Do. You. Want. Me. To. Leave?”
“No,” she says softly, but with determination. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Heaven.
I crush my lips against hers, the touch a blend of my hungry madness and her delicate softness. It is not a fight, but a dance full of passion, in which her hands join around my neck, and I wrap my arms around her waist, to bring every inch of her body against mine.
With my tongue, I taste every sound that slips between her sensual lips, while she savors the growl rumbling from my throat when she presses her breasts against me, making me feel every curve of her body begging to be worshipped.
In all my life, I have never experienced such a need to feel a woman's body as I do now. Voices scream their fulfillment from a corner of my mind, letting me hear every sigh of the one who has irremediably bewitched me.
In one movement, I twist her so that she’s straddling my lap as I sit down on the bed.
She's wearing a fucking nightgown that rides up over her hips, giving me the opportunity to squeeze her bare buttocks as both hands descend on her supple body.
Her small palms cup my face, a delicate touch that tempers my desperate pace of tearing from her. She silently tells me that I need to savor her slowly, despite the need that compel me to mark her mine as quickly as possible.
I want her.
I want her for a damn long time, but she deserves to enjoy everything I will do to her, just enough to understand that no one will ever lay a hand on her again, except me. She needs to know that no bastard who dared to touch her until now should ever exist in her memories.
I'm going to find out who they are and make sure their days are numbered.
I'm the type of man who fucks hard, hurts bodies with wild gestures – meant to leave marks – and feeds on tears of pain mixed with screams of pleasure. But dusha moya is too valuable and fragile to be treated like that.
I guide her over my painfully hardened cock, and the heat of her core throws me into a frenzy that I almost lose control of.
Her delicate fingers begin, needily, to undo my buttons, too many for this moment that demands all the patience in the world, when I would like to unleash myself like an animal, to tear everything that stands between me and her warm body.
We take off my vest and shirt together, although I'm on the verge of tearing them. It’s the first time I’ve cursed myself for dressing like this, instead of opting for a fucking T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, which I would have gotten rid of much faster right now.
With my upper body naked I pull the strap of the silky material off her and kiss her neck, moving down to her shoulder.
She has the skin of an angel.
Once the second strap falls off, her breasts are exposed to my mouth eager to taste everything. To take everything.
I bite her small nipple as I cup her breast in my palm, offered to me like a dessert made to be devoured.
With her fingers lost in my hair, she throws her head back, gasping hard as my lips suck, lick, and every now and then bite her with hunger.
She arches in my lap, pressing herself even harder against the length begging to be freed.
I grip her everywhere, frantic, like I can’t decide where to start, then pull off her nightgown and toss it across the room.
She’s all mine.
And God, the things I want to do to her. The ways I want to feed on her. But nothing will stand in my way from this moment on, so I’ll have all the time in the world to unleash every fantasy I have.
I slide one hand between our bodies and find her panties damp with desire, but my hand doesn’t stop there. I tear the scrap of fabric apart, and the voices purr painfully when she is left completely naked.
In my lap.
I find her slick folds and push two fingers straight inside her, making her nearly scream, startled by my attack.
I pull them out only to rub her clit, circling it a few times before sinking back into her pussy, this time curling my fingers inside.
At the same time, I bite the breast she offers me so willingly, as if it were an offering laid before me for sacrifice.
She moans loudly and immediately looks toward the door, letting me know she’s worried about the others in the house.
“Scream for me as loud as you can, dusha moya,” I urge her as I lick her nipple again, this time sucking it before tugging it with my lips. “Your moans are only for me. No one can hear them, even though I’d like everyone to know that from today on, you’re mine.”
I pull my fingers out and push them back in, keeping the rhythm she seems to enjoy increasingly, because she grips my short hair as if her life depends on it.
Her body trembles, moving to my rhythm like a musical instrument I guide and handle just enough to produce the most beautiful sounds.
I almost come when her warm core tightens around me, and Katya cries out my name in a sigh so erotic I can barely control myself.
“Artem! I’m going to... Oh, yes!”
And my voices answer her just as fiercely when the words leave my lips.
“Fuck, you’re mine!”
She’s sensational.
A flush spreads across her chest, reaching down to the breasts already marked by me, like a tattoo I never want to fade from her skin.
While her body shudders with the last wave of her orgasm, I turn with her and lay her down on the bed. In a second, my mouth is over her drenched core, licking her like an ice cream.
“Oh, God!” she exclaims, startled, arching among the fine sheets.
And the sight of her, completely open before me, her hair spread around her head like the halo of an angel who came to die for me, makes me even hungrier. I don’t lick her slowly. I feed on her greedily. With my lips. With my teeth. And I hold her hips in my hands to stop her instinct to move.
She wants more.
I give her everything I have.
“Ah! I’m going to come again!”
I grin.
“Do it,” I demand, and push two fingers inside her again, which, thanks to the new position, go much deeper than before.
And I don’t do it slowly. I do it hard, only to move them rapidly inside her, pumping fast and rough, preparing her for the way I’m going to fuck her.
“Yes! Yes!”
“My name, dusha moya!” I shout, and in that moment her core contracts again, and from her chest I hear my name spoken like a scream.
“Artem!”
We want her
!
Now!
Make her ours
!
I don’t take my pants off completely, but I unfasten them quickly enough to shove them over my ass and free the cock that has already soaked my boxers with precome.
She condemns me to a life in which I must worship her when her blue eyes gleam with lust at the way my length pulses as I rise onto my knees between her thighs to admire her.
I am hers.
Her body is covered in the marks of my fingers, giving me an indescribable satisfaction. Some will probably bruise a little, especially the ones on her thighs and breasts, but I know they only amplified her pleasure.
She licks her lower lip, hunger clear in her eyes.
“I don’t think you’re ready to take me in your mouth, princess,” I taunt, smiling, and she arches an eyebrow with arrogance.
“Try me.”
I narrow my eyes at her challenge, but return two fingers to her wet, sensitive core.
“I’ve been trying to take you slowly until now, but if I get inside that warm mouth of yours, I won’t be able to control myself anymore.”
“This is what you call slowly?”
Now it’s her turn to tease, a playful smile on her lips.
“Oh, believe me, I’m doing everything I can.”
“What if you stopped holding back?”