Page 50 of Bound in Possession

"Fucking hell, Camilla," he growls, his voice dropping into a raspy, gravelly register that vibrates right through my skull. "Look at you. Look at my proud little Caruso princess taking me so deep. You like being treated like this, don't you?"

The dirty words should sting, but instead, they spark a wildfire in my belly. I wrap my hand around the base of his length where my mouth can’t reach, pumping him rhythmically while my tongue swirls around the sensitive ridge of his head. I suck him harder, my throat tightening around him as I pull him deeper into my mouth.

"Yeah, just like that," Maksim pants, his grip tightening in my hair, anchoring me down. "Good girl. You're a natural at this. Such a good, obedient little throat for your husband."

Hearing him call himself my husband while destroying my throat sends a desperate rush of adrenaline through me. I increase the pace, my bobbing head moving faster against him, completely unbothered by the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes from the sheer depth of it.

"You're begging for it with that mouth," he murmurs, his breathing turning incredibly heavy and uneven. He doesn't wait anymore. His hips shift forward, and he begins to fuck my mouth, a slow, dominant, steady rhythm that pushes past my lips and forces me to take him completely.

Squelch. The wet, friction-filled sound echoes off the sterile glass table and the cold security monitors.

"Take it, Camilla. Take every single inch," he commands, his thrusts turning faster, sharper, driving deep into my throat until I'm choking slightly around him, my fingers digging bruises into the leather armrests. "Show me how dirty you can be for me before we go to that dinner. Let me hear you swallow me."

I choke back a whimper, meeting his dark, blown-out gray-blue eyes through my lashes. The raw dominance radiating from him is absolute, and I suck harder, my throat clamping down around him with every deep, heavy thrust he takes.

I swipe my tongue firmly around the sensitive head of his dick, and the sudden friction destroys the last of his restraint. Maksim swears loudly, a string of harsh Russian curses ripping from his throat as his hips snap forward, coming hard down my throat. I swallow convulsively, taking the thick, burning heat of his release as his hands tighten painfully in my hair, anchoring me to him until the very last twitch of his muscles fades.

He pants heavily, his chest heaving, before he suddenly jerks himself out of my mouth.

Before I can even wipe my lips, he grabs my arm and drags me up out of the leather chair. My knees are weak, but he doesn't give me a chance to find my footing. He lifts me effortlessly, hoisting me onto the cold glass conference desk, scattering a neat stack of security files beneath my back.

With a rough, impatient swipe of his large hands, he grips my thighs and spreads my legs wide, pushing the skirt of my dress all the way up to my waist. The cool air of the security room hits my bare skin, creating a sharp contrast against the blistering heat radiating off his body.

He stands between my thighs, his gaze dark, blown-out, and bordering on feral as he stares down at my dripping center. The clinical, powerful Pakhan is entirely gone, replaced by a man completely consumed by a desperate, maddening hunger.

"I need to have you right now, right now, princess," he groans, his voice cracking with a raw, uncharacteristic vulnerability that shocks me to my core. His large hands dig into my hips, pinning me to the glass as his forehead drops against mine. "Please, Camilla."

Hearing the word please rip from the throat of a man who commands an empire completely breaks me. The last shred of my control evaporates, leaving only a desperate, aching need to be filled by him.

Maksim doesn't waste another second. He reaches down, his large fingers hooking into the lace of my panties. He doesn't even take them off, pushing them aside, too consumed by the primal urgency rolling through his veins. He aligns the thick, aching length of his cock against my soaking wet heat and drives straight into me in one deep, unyielding thrust.

I gasp loudly, my back arching off the cold glass desk as my hands fly up to grip his broad shoulders. He fills me entirely, stretching me to the absolute limit and sending a blinding jolt of electricity straight to my core.

"Fucking hell, Camilla," he groans against my mouth, his chest heaving as he immediately begins to fuck me.

The pace is hard, heavy, and relentlessly demanding. Every time his hips snap forward, the heavy glass conference table rattles beneath us, the wet, slapping sound of our bodies echoing off the sterile walls and security monitors. He isn't pacing himself now; he is taking me with a feral intensity that leaves us both breathless.

His hands grip my hips like vices, anchoring me to the desk so he can drive deeper, his thighs slamming against mine with every powerful stroke. I throw my head back, panting heavily, my fingers digging into the muscles of his back as the friction builds into an unbearable, blinding heat. He groans low and rough with every thrust, his gray-blue eyes locked onto mine, completely consumed by the storm of his own making.

He goes hard, his pace turning fast and furious as the friction inside me pushes us both past the point of no return. I cry out his name, my fingers clawing at his shoulders as a violent, blinding orgasm ripples through my entire body, clamping down around him. The sudden tightness completely shatters his restraint. Maksim lets out a low, feral growl, driving into me one last, deep time as he comes hard, his body stiffening completely as he fills me with his heat.

We stay like that for a long moment, panting heavily against each other as our heartbeats slowly synchronize and we come down from our high.

He slowly pulls out of me, a low sigh escaping his lips. With a surprising gentleness that contrasts the raw power from moments before, he helps me down from the glass desk. My legs are trembling, but he holds me steady, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss against my forehead.

I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure. "I have to hurry up and shower," I say, my voice still a little breathless. "I have to go out with Nastya."

“Where?” He frowns.

“I don’t know.”

Maksim’s eyes darken as he looks down at me, a dangerous, possessive smirk slowly spreading across his face. "No shower, princess. You're going out exactly like that."

I freeze, staring at him. "What?"

"You heard me," he murmurs, his gaze trailing down my body. "You're going to keep my cum dripping down your thighs while you're out. Consider it a reminder of who you belong to."

"Are you insane?" I argue, my cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "I can't go out like this! Maksim me⁠—"