My racing heartbeat.
The feeling of being overpowered. Dominated.
Free.
My mind is a blank slate as it continues, his mouth in my ear.
"Cast your spell, little witch. Cast your fucking spell. You know I love it. You know I'm here for it. Spread those fucking legs and cast your spell on me."
The belt drops to the floor, and his hand comes to my ass, scouring, massaging the skin, and I love this. I love it so much, his rough palm and the erotic pain.
His fingers are at my pussy, sliding through my wet heat, in and out, just like that time at the bar, and I want more.
"I've missed you," I say because he hasn’t beenin mesince before my period, and I want him so badly.
"Say it again," he growls.
"I missed you, Matvei."
"Beg for my cock."
"I want you inside me. I want you to fill me. I want you to make me come." My voice is shaky, trembling—I want him so badly.
Break me. Ruin me. Put me all back together again. Make me whole.
Then the blessed relief of the sound of his zipper. His hot cock at my entrance. I whimper in need, unashamed, holding my breath. A gasp of relief as he pushes in.
He slams into me hard, and I take him. He stretches me, fills me. My need climbs higher and higher. His mouth is at my ear, his body pressing down on mine, skin to skin. I feel his heartbeat against my back, and I’ve never felt more powerful in my life.
He whispers filthy, sweet nothings in my ear. "You’re so fucking wet. Give me that cunt. Give me that dirty little cunt. I wanna fillyou. I want you dripping with my cum. I want you to know this is you and me. This is me making you have my baby."
I whimper, my body arching, opening for him, my nails digging into the wood beneath me.
"Is this what you wanted? Did you want my cock?"
"Yes," I breathe out.
He pulls almost all the way out of me.
I sob with need. “Matvei!”
I want him in me so badly.
Then he slides back in slowly, stretching me, filling me. I’m so full, and my pussy clenches around his cock. It feels so right, pressed up against the desk, and my ass is on fire. My pussy clenches as he slams in and out, the rhythm and tempo of his thrusts harder than ever before.
As if, somehow, he’s trying to brand me. To make me never forget him.
As if ramping this up—pushing deeper, fucking me harder—will make me his forever.
It’s wrong and primal, and I’m so fucking here for it.
My orgasm takes me by surprise with its intensity. I cry out.
"Are you coming without permission?" he says in a deadly voice.
I couldn't stop myself now if I tried. My words tumble over each other.
"Please. Please, can I come?"
