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A tear rolls down her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb. “I’m terrified, Luka. Of this world, of the pain, of losing myself.”
"Promise me Krasotka, no more lies or hiding anything from me, understand?" As I gently touches her cheeks, tracing my thumb over her lips, I can feel myself growing hard.
I want her- bad.
“I- I promise..” Her words stop abruptly as my lips crash against hers. Her hands quickly move to my chest, gripping my shirt tightly.
"You make me lose control," I murmur, feeling her lips quiver against mine. "Damn, I've been dying for this," I say, the desire in my voice as clear as day.
She pulls back slightly, gasping for air. "I... I can feel that." Her eyes locked onto mine.
Fuck. I am rubbing my cock in my pants.
Running my fingers along the cotton neckline of her dress, feeling the cool fabric and the curves of her body underneath. With a gentle tug, I loosen the belt at her waist and let it fall open. Her full, soft tits were now on display, eager for my touch.
Her tits are perfect, perfect size, perfect shape, perfect swelling, perfect areolas, perfect looking.
Perfect. oh fuck, perfect.
I greedily grasped them with my hands, squeezing her nipples with my finger.
"Luka!" she whimpers timidly. "We shouldn't..."
“Shouldn’t what?” Ignoring her protests, my rough hands trail lower, tugging her dress up to reveal her glistening pussy, ready for me.
“Ah..” Her eyes flutters close and a soft moan escape her lips.
I press two fingers inside her, drawing a throaty moan from her delicate lips.
“Fuck..” she begs urgently, her beautiful body trembling slightly as I thrust my fingers deeper.
"Oh.. what if someone… comes back in?" She glances nervously towards the door, but her eyes widening in desire.
I reach down and unzip my pants. The leather folds back and my cock springs from under the fabric, like a jack-in-the-box.
I growl, "No chance of that."
I don't wait for an argument.
I plunge into her warmth and we both moan. I grip her hips, savoring the candy of her lips as I fuck her slow and deep.
We’ve just checked out of the hospital.
My black Lamborghini Urus is waiting where Grisha had dropped it off earlier, and I unlock it, holding open the passenger door for Sophia.
I look at her fumbling with the seatbelt, her fingers trembling. It gives me the excuse I need.
“Need help there, krasotka?” I ask, leaning over. Her eyes lock onto mine, surprised. I can’t resist; I kiss her, quick and demanding.
She kisses me back, her hand reaching down, and everything inside me is on fire. She is teasing me, tracing the outline of my cock. It hardens instantly, and I groan, lost in the sensation, the tantalizing promise of what could be. I pull her close, her body warm and inviting, her touch driving me insane.
“You’re playing with fire,” I breathe, pulling back, but not before she manages a final, wicked stroke that has me gasping. She smirks, and the look in her eye promises so much more.
“I’ve never wanted anyone like this,” I confess, my voice rough with desire. She looks at me with eyes like emeralds. “The fact that I don’t want to kill you, despite everything…it feels good, krasotka. Too good.”
She takes my hand and kisses it.
“I want you too,” she whispers, her voice a husky promise filled with all the dark, twisted longing that mirrors mine.
