Page 57 of If I Were Yours

My legs barely fall toward the floor before Markus catches my thighs, holding them up as he steps between them. He prods his hard length at my opening, and I’m so slick he glides straight in—one slow deliberate motion that sends jolts of lightning through my already sensitive nerves. His pleasured groan sparks a new need inside me that keeps building as he drags his cock along my inner walls in maddeningly slow motions.

“Please, more,” I beg, trying to move my hands back to urge him on. Or maybe to hold on to something. I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter. They’re trapped. In one big hand.

“Are you already about to come again?” Grigory rumbles against my ear, his voice full of that delicious mix of taunt and dominance.

I shake my head, not wanting to admit it.

“Oh, but I think you are.” He hooks a finger into my mouth, pulling at my cheek. It’s ugly and humiliating. And it sends new sparks of desire dancing along my spine, making me lift my hips in urgent need for more.

There’s a nagging voice somewhere inside my head telling me that Markus shouldn’t see this. He’s not into humiliation. He’ll find my pulled-out cheek ugly.

I try to shrug my head free, but Grigory only hooks his finger tighter around my cheek, and when Markus picks up speed, the nagging voice drowns in the flaring need lighting up my brain.

“You’re such a little whore, already begging for the next orgasm,” Grigory all but sneers into my ear, his tone as dirty as his words.

I moan in response, tension building in my abdomen, pleasure rising with an explosive force.

Markus slows down, hands flexing against my thighs with hesitance. Suddenly, I realize what just happened. He heard Grigory calling me a whore, and he hates it.

The flaring desire dies in an instant.

My chest tightens, my brain kicking into overdrive. Humiliation twists my stomach—and not in a good way. This is raw and real humiliation that makes me feel ugly and wrong.

Markus is driving into me again, his reaction already fading. But it’s stuck in my memory. I can still feel how he stilled at the sound of Grigory’s words, the hesitant grip around my thighs.

I try to jerk my head free from Grigory’s finger, but he won’t let me. Alarm flares in my mind as the image of Grigory’s finger distending my cheek becomes all I see. The wordwhorehovers above me. It’s ugly and dirty. Wrong. All on display for Markus to see.

I strain my hands against Grigory’s grip, kicking my legs behind me as panic builds with deadly speed.

I open my mouth to say the only word that will stop this. But my voice is weak and small, just like I am. “Shrek,” I whimper, too low for anyone to hear.

But they do.

Everything stills. Markus stops pounding. Grigory’s finger disappears. And the grip on my wrists loosens.

Regret squeezes my chest the moment Grigory releases me. I just safeworded—told him I didn’t want his control. And that’s not what I meant at all. I want him to grab my wrists again, pin me in place, and exert his power over me. It’s the only thing that will stabilize me in this confusing mess.

But then I’m in Markus’s arms, being carried into the living room where he sinks onto the couch and curls me up in his lap.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” he murmurs, peppering tiny kisses over my hair. “It’s over now. No more.” Steps sound, and Markus lifts his head and says in a firm voice, “I think you need to leave.”

Looking up from Markus’s chest, I find Grigory standing at the other end of the room, concern marring his features as he watches us.

I beg him to stay with my eyes. But his expression is full of hurt, and it’s like a knife to the chest when he looks away and says, “I think you’re right.”

Is he mad at me? For safewording—for making him stop?

It feels wrong to take that kind of control. The mere thought has bile rising in my throat. I want to run to him and kneel at his feet. Tell him that he did nothing wrong. That I want his dominance with all it entails. I just want to belong to him.

Markus tightens his arms around me, reminding me he’s the one I belong to.

That’s when my tears start falling.

This is such a mess.

Grigory’s steps fade, and the sound of the front door announces his departure.

My tears fall quicker, and tiny sobs rise in my throat.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com