Page 91 of Destroy Me


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Hearing him call me a good girl in Russian sends me over the edge. I smother my cries and moans in the covers as my body’s overcome with an overpowering orgasm.

It’s too intense, turning me into a sobbing mess while Misha almost sets my pussy on fire from all the friction.

“No more,” I beg.

“I’ll say when you’re done,” he growls. He pulls out, and I have a moment's relief before I’m flipped onto my back.

He yanks my ass flush with his groin, his cock slamming back inside me.

My back arches, and I’m weeping for mercy as I whimper, “It’s too intense.”

“I know you can come again,” he says, breathing hard from fucking me senseless. “Look at me.” My eyes lock with his, then he orders, “You will come again, Aurora.”

His hand slips between my legs, and when he pinches my clit, I almost come off the bed with a cry.

It’s so freaking hot and torturous I fear I might lose my mind.

Moans keep spilling over my lips until it sounds like I’m chanting a prayer.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages me. “Submit to me.”

The fight drains away, and when Misha fills me hard and deep, hitting the spot that’s been torturing me, my whole world explodes into vibrant colors.

I’m unable to scream as the air stalls in my throat. My body tenses to breaking point right before I’m a writhing mess, unable to do anything as painful pleasure seizes me in its grip.

“Such a good fucking girl,” Misha purrs with approval.

His body jerks hard against mine as he finds his release with a roar that sounds primal and sexy.

He presses his face between my breasts as he rides out his pleasure, his racing breaths fanning my heated skin.

In the aftermath, I lie stunned beneath him, my mind struggling to catch up after the intense way he fucked me.

“You good?” he grumbles before he lifts his head.

“I think you broke me,” I whisper, still stunned. “That was intense.”

“Are you okay?” he asks again, and this time his tone is serious.

I glance down, and seeing the worried expression tightening his features, I quickly nod. “I’m fine.”

When he starts to pull out, I shriek, “Slower. God, pull out slowly.” The instant he’s out of me, I turn onto my side, resisting the urge to massage my poor vagina. “Jesus, I’m sensitive. Every movement feels like an electric spark.”

Misha climbs off the bed and walks into the bathroom. I hear water run before he comes back with a face cloth.

When he presses it to my vagina, my body jerks, but the cool cloth is soothing. I let out a moan, “That’s so good.”

“Don’t make sounds like that unless you want me to fuck you again,” he murmurs, his tone threatening and his eyes filling with heat.

When he’s done cleaning me, he lies down beside me and pulls me into his arms.

He lets out a chuckle when I just slump over him.

“Don’t laugh. You almost set me on fire,” I grumble playfully, then add, “It was different from the first time.”

Misha presses a kiss to my hair, his fingers lazily brushing through the messy strands. “The first time was out of pure desperation to be with you.”

Turning my head, I rest my chin on his peck. “And this time?”

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