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"Robin, what are you—"
His words are cut off by a groan as I take him in my mouth.
I suck and lick, savoring the taste of him, moaning softly around him. Boris's hands thread through my hair, guiding me further, his hips bucking against me, seeking more. I run my tongue over the head, savoring the salty sweetness, before taking him deeper until he hits the back of my throat. I hum around him, causing him to groan loudly.
Boris's breath hitches, his grip on my hair tightening. "Fuck, that's good…"
I set a quick, demanding pace, hollowing my cheeks on every upstroke.
"Robin," he gasps, his voice more a plea than a reprimand.
“Boris,” I murmur against him, tasting him wholly. I suck gentler now, his cock too big for my mouth. Slowly, I pull back, his cock still in my hand. “Use me to forget all about the weight on your shoulders, Boris,” I whisper. “Forget work, forget us. Fuck me, Boris.”
Chapter 19 - Boris
I can feel the heat rising through me, ready to explode in her mouth like a blazing fire consuming everything in its path. Robin's eyes never leave mine while she’s kneeling before me, her lips wrapping around me with a hunger I've never experienced before. Her voice comes out muffled but determined as she finishes her sentence with, "Fuck me, Boris."
The words hit me like a freight train, and my mind races through all the doubts and insecurities that have been plaguing me. She's so much younger than me, innocent in ways that I could never be, forced into marrying me since I impregnated her. But as she looks up at me with desire burning in her eyes, I realize she isn't as fragile as I first believed. She’s taken charge, leaving me just a pawn in her hand, and I’m ready to eat right out of her palm. This connection between us, this undeniable chemistry—it has to mean something.
"Are you sure?" I ask, my voice betraying that I have little, if any, self-control left.
"Please," she begs, her breath hot against my cock.
The air is thick with lust and adrenaline, and I can barely breathe. Our mutual attraction has reached a breaking point, and there's no denying it any longer.
"Robin," I growl, grabbing her by the arms and pulling her up to meet my lips. Our mouths collide in a fiery kiss filled with raw passion and intensity. We're both lost in the moment, consumed by our desire for each other.
She pulls away briefly, panting and flushed. "Boris, I want you now."
"Then you'll have me," I promise, lifting her onto the edge of the desk. Papers and office supplies scatter to the floor, forgotten casualties of our carnal need.
With nimble fingers, I slowly part her thighs. Her skin, smooth and soft to my touch, is hot and wet. I slide up my fingers, and she inches forward, wanting me to go faster.
“Slow down, tiger,” I warn, wanting to cherish this moment after all the time we’ve spent denying our flesh.
I slide my fingers through the elastic of her panties and let it smack against her skin, teasing her.
“Oh, Boris,” she begs.
I grin and slide my fingers through again, sliding them down her thigh slowly. I leave her panties at her knees. “Lie down,” I say, gently pushing her back on my large desk.
She does as I say, and I part her legs, yet they’re still bound at the knee by her panties. Good. Just enough for her to open for me, yet bound enough for total pleasure.
Then, I take one finger and slide it into her pussy. Tight. Oh, so tight. This is, after all, only the second time she’s ever been with a man. But, this time, I’m going to show her what pure carnal pleasure can look like.
I place one hand on her tummy, keeping her down, and begin to finger her with the other. I cork my finger like a plug, shaping it into a curve, and thump her walls from within in a regular beat.
“Oh, Boris,” she moans as I quicken the pace. Her body bucks, but I hold her down firmly, never giving her an inch of slack. Her hips move in rhythm to my finger, perfectly attuned to my every thrust.
“How does that feel?” I ask, pulling out just to hear her reply.
“Oh my god, Boris,” she breathes, eyes fluttering closed. “I want more.”
My ego swells, and I grin. “Damn right, you do. You’re not having sex, you’re having a Bratva fucking. We do things differently, sweetheart.”
And with that, I push two fingers inside her, her walls gripping them tightly, prompting me to add a third.
“Oh, Boris,” she gasps, her voice full of wonder. “This only feels… better.”
