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A thrill of excitement ran along her neck and down her back. The dead seriousness in his gaze was like a weight pinning her down. “Yes, Master. I’m yours,” she said, helpless to deny it. Why would she even want to?

Under her Master, with his cock deep inside her, she felt her mind opening to him as widely as her body, welcoming him in.

He started to fuck her with slow, short thrusts, making room for himself within her. Konstantin slid a hand down between them and caught her clit between his fingers, the slippery thing apparently difficult to get a firm hold of. She squealed, unable to stop her body from reacting. His fingers were merciless, and she clung to his shoulders as she writhed beneath him, the sensations he forced upon her so chaotic that she considered struggling out from under his magnificent body and hiding.

The ache of having his big cock inside her and the pleasure of his tormenting fingers fused into one conflicting sensation. Pitiful sounds poured from her mouth. Abruptly he pulled out, staring down at her.

“You said no, baby. Do you want me to stop?”

How could he do this to her? “I didn’t say no, Master, please!” She begged him with her body, angling her hips to try to get him back inside her, even sore as she was. “I didn’t say my safeword,” she said accusatorily. For a moment she couldn’t remember what it was, anyway, but she definitely didn’t want to say it.

“Are you sure?”

She screamed at him in frustration and flailed under him, punching his chest a few times before he grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head one-handed.

“Varushka,” he murmured. “I had to check. Quit being a bad girl or I’ll put you back to bed.”

“And no more sex?” she asked desperately. She stilled under him, not wanting to risk it. If he didn’t let her come she was going to die.

“Bad girls don’t get to come.”

“I’m sorry, Master. I—”

Konstantin thrust back into her and for a moment she couldn’t form a coherent thought. He pushed deeper, until his hips butted against her thighs, pressing against her limits. She choked and struggled. The bastard held her in place, making her take all of him.

“You feel so good, Varushka.” He rocked against her, buried deep, his pelvis grinding against her desperate clit.

She had to come so bad that one wrong move might set her off.

“You feel hard.” Her breath caught. “And mean.”

“Mean?” he chuckled. “You don’t know anything about mean. Not yet.” The fingers of his free hand rubbed over one of her nipples, then pinched hard. She screamed, the zing of pain going straight to her pussy.

She panted, trying to stay in control.

“Come on.” His hips tilted and he rammed his cock straight into the thing inside that made her unable to see. Her mouth fell open and her eyes rolled back as he dragged her closer to the precipice. “Come for me, slave.” His words were low and gravelly, and he jammed into her sensitive spot again. His fingers closed painfully over her nipple.

She clawed at him, fighting the orgasm as it claimed her. Too much pleasure—her mind couldn’t process it all. Under him, her body went into an ecstatic haze, feeling and reacting, accepting. Konstantin swore and fell silent as he dug his fingers painfully into her wrists and emptied into her in a series of thrusts that made her scream.

When she could make sense of things again, he withdrew and rolled off her, but pulled her onto his chest and held her there while he gasped for breath.

“Fuck, are you okay?” he asked. If he was expecting her to make words, he was crazy.

She whimpered and licked at his chest, which made him groan.

“Watch yourself, girl. If you’re not careful, you’ll get more.”

Varushka languidly stretched out on top of him. He smelled warm and manly, and she had to resist rolling in his scent like a dog. Her whole body was sore, but his words had woken something in her that hadn’t gone to sleep yet.

“Is there a rule that we have to stop now?”

“No, there’s no rule.” He chuckled. “But we may never sleep again.”

Chapter Ten

There was ice cream on her chin. Such a silly thing—something he never would have cared about years ago. But after dating girls that were flawless, self-possessed dynamos, dating someone who was normal, who sometimes made a mess when she ate, who tripped over her shoelaces because she didn’t bother tying them, and who watched him with adoration, was intoxicating. When she wasn’t submitting to him, she was wild and fun-loving, and wasn’t afraid to laugh loud, have her hair mussed, and to get dirt on herself. She was meek with him, but loved life so much that trying to act dignified would have gotten in her way.

He leaned closer to her, and her eyes danced. She moved her ice cream aside, waiting for a kiss. Instead, he licked the drip of ice cream off her chin. As he sat back, her free hand flew to her mouth, as though he’d fingered her on the park bench. She glanced around like she was hoping no one had seen his scandalous behavior.

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