Behind me, I heard the clink of his belt, the harsh rustle of his zipper. He spat into his palm and stroked his cock slowly, the sound obscene in the silence.
Then he lined himself up—and slammed into me.
I cried out, barely catching it before it tore through the room. He was huge, stretching me wide, splitting me open with one unrelenting thrust.
“Look at this greedy pussy,” he whispered, kissing my neck.
He set a brutal rhythm, pounding into me with no mercy. I gripped the edge of the sink, forehead pressed to the mirror, breath fogging the glass.
“Quiet,” he muttered, then reached around and shoved two fingers into my mouth. “Suck. Keep that filthy mouth full.”
I sucked hard, eyes rolling back. My moans came thick and muffled, drool sliding down my chin as he fucked me deeper. His other hand gripped my hip like a vice, dragging me into every punishing stroke.
My thighs shook. My nipples rubbed raw through the fabric. My entire body was on fire.
Just outside, voices murmured—my father’s men, the ones he trusted most. And I was here, being wrecked by the man who murdered my fiancé.
And I wanted more.
He pulled out to turn me—spinning me to face him—then lifted me clean off the floor. I gasped as my legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, his hands sliding under my ass to hold me there, all my weight on him.
He surged back inside me while I was suspended in his arms, driving up into me so deep it stole the air from my lungs. Our eyes locked—wild and burning—foreheads pressed together, breath mingling. I clutched his shoulders, teeth sinking into mylower lip to keep quiet, my body tightening around him with every thrust.
His hands kneaded my ass, spreading me open, forcing me down onto him again and again while he fucked me standing—hard and brutal. He kissed me like he was trying to devour me, tongue invading my mouth, swallowing every broken sound before it could escape.
We weren’t alone. We could be heard. But that only made him wilder—hemoved with a hunger that bordered on hatred, and I couldn’t get enough.
“Quiet,” he breathed against my mouth—and slammed up into me again.
My body trembled uncontrollably, every nerve set ablaze, my breath catching somewhere between a gasp and a sob. I couldn’t hold back anymore. The orgasm crashed into me, hard and consuming, my muscles locking around him, my nails digging into his shoulders as I moaned into his mouth, teeth catching his lip.
He let out a sharp breath, almost a growl, every muscle in him coiled tight. He was close.
He pulled out abruptly and set me down. My knees nearly buckled.
“Down,” he said.
I dropped to my knees and took him in my mouth, hands gripping his thighs as he finished for me. I swallowed every drop, filthy and obedient, licking him clean while my eyes stayed locked on his. His breath finally broke, rough and guttural, like I’d dragged it from his soul.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as I slowly stood, still dazed, every nerve ending buzzing from what we’d just done. My thighs were shaking, my pulse wild. I still tasted him when I looked up—and I wasn’t sure if he’d kiss me or if that would be too much.But he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed me by thewaist and pinned me to the wall, kissing me like it was the only thing that could keep him sane.
My head spun.
God, I love this man.
Obsession wasn’t a strong enough word. It was more than that. Something deeper. Uglier. Beautiful. Love, in its dirtiest form. I hadn’t known Maksym long. But I already belonged to him in a way no time limit could define.
I didn’t just love him despite his darkness—I loved himforit.
When the kiss broke, he pulled up his pants and zipped them slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. Then he reached down, scooping up my underwear and pants. He crouched to help me step into them, his touch gentle despite the brutal way he’d just used my body. After everything, he still handled me like I was breakable.
That same smug, satisfied smirk curled on his lips as he stood, trailing his knuckles along my jaw.“Get some rest, Malaya,” he murmured. “I’ll be back tonight. And I’m not done with you.” Then he leaned in and gave me one last kiss—slow, dark, and possessive—like a promise burned into my skin.
He turned to leave, grabbing his jacket from the floor—but stopped at the door, hand resting on the knob. “Too many men in this house. Lock the door.”
Then he was gone, off to do whatever bloody work my father asked of him.
And I stood there, heart racing, lips swollen, already aching to see him again.
