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His finger slid closer to my sex. As he touched the soft curve of my upper thigh, so very close to where it met my hip, I felt a rush of wetness spill from inside me. I was embarrassed at first, horrified that my body gave my desire for my own stepbrother away. I could even smell it—somehow salty and sweet together. But as the scent of my juices met Maksim’s nose, he let out a low, hungry growl. In response, he tipped his hips slightly, pushing his hard cock into my back.
“Would you want to be wed in the old way?”
It took true concentration to bring my thoughts into any sort of logical order. At that moment, I was nothing but hot, and wet, and aching for him to touch me between my legs.
“The old way,” I said, searching my memory. I knew about it from stories. Sometimes, it was still done, but not often. “Yes, I would.”
“Would you be proud to have your husband hang the stained sheets of your marriage bed from your window, Princess?”
Now, I did actually moan. As he said that word, the word he’d used as ammunition against me so many times, he finally touched me where I was throbbing to be touched. I melted back into him, but as his touch strengthened, my body responded with a wave of overpowering pleasure.
“Oh my god, Maksim,” I panted. “What are you…”
He nudged my cheek with his jaw. “Answer the fucking question.”
The question. What was the… “Please don’t stop.”
He rubbed me more firmly and I gasped out in pleasure and need. “Answer. The. Question.”
I sucked in a brain-clearing breath. “Yes, of course. I would be overjoyed. Proud to have given my virtue to the man I love.”
“Fuck virtue,” he growled, talking low and soft as he massaged my clit. It fluttered at his touch and my toes curled with pleasure. He was making my body throb in a way I didn’t know it could throb. With an expert touch, he massaged me there, drawing me closer and closer to…
I didn’t know what. Something. Everything. Heaven itself.
I was so lost in the feeling that it took me a moment to realize that there was silence. Had he asked me something? I couldn’t even remember. So I just repeated the words that I remembered hearing him say last.
“Fuck virtue,” I echoed.
His growl of approval came from deep in his throat. “Now we’re fucking talking.” With renewed intensity, he worked my most sensitive spot with small circles that made my eyes roll back in my head.
I didn’t know what was happening to me and I didn’t care. Wherever he was taking me, I was going with him. No questions asked. Except for one.
“Whose wife would I become?” I whispered between gasps.
“Mine,” he growled. “All fucking mine.”
CHAPTER 16
Maksim
“But how…” Anika said, trailing off as my fingers on her clit stole her words. She let her head fall back against my shoulder. Lips parted. Cheeks flushed. I slipped my finger further down between her folds, until my fingertip was just at the edge of her pussy’s tight little opening. “But they’d never let us marry,” she managed to say. “Never.”
“Fuck that, fuck whoever they are,” I growled into her ear as I drew my fingertip up to create some tension on her clit. Playing pain against pleasure; soothing one with the other in equal turns. “I’ll marry you the old way. The only way that counts.”
“You’d… take me,” she panted, gyrating her pelvis into my hand.
Greedy little brat. But I wasn’t in the mood to withhold on her. Not yet. I added my middle finger, and stimulating her with both, I rolled her clit between them, against them, and back again. That ebb and flow.
I wanted to keep her right there on the edge between too much and never enough. I wanted her begging for my touch even when I was already touching her. I wanted her addicted to me, like those poor fuckers in the opium dens. I wanted her to crave me, even when I was fucking her raw.
I slid my other hand up her stomach to her tits, feeling the weight of them, their round firmness. Though her frame was thin, her tits were full and supple. By the firelight, I saw the faint ridge of barely visible stretch marks radiating out from her nipples. I didn’t even try to stifle my groans; those days were over. She was mine to groan over, as loud as I wanted.
“You’ve got no fucking idea how long I’ve waited for this, Anika.”
She dug her fingernails into my thighs. “Tell me.”
The first time I ever saw her, she was in a pale yellow dress. Modest but plenty tight. Her mother and my uncle had already married, and they introduced us at a big fucking production of a dinner.
