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“You’re perfect,” he whispers, lowering his head for another taste.
His mouth is hot on my nipple, his kiss wet and gentle. I arch my back, wanting more, but he keeps the caress soft. His fingers play with my other nipple until every pinch and roll echoes in my clit.
He’s as slow in taking off my clothes as he was in undressing himself. I’m panting by the time he’s removed my jeans and underwear. When he buries his head between my legs, it’s as much as I can take. At the third lap of his tongue, I come. The release is brutal. It tears through me with emotions in its wake that shake me to my core—a need to belong, an infinite well of painful love, a futile will to live. When he positions his hips and enters me, the fragmented feelings come together. They fuse with the warm glow in my body, and for the first time in my life, I’m complete.
“Minochka.” He frames my face between broad hands and starts pumping. His rhythm is leisurely. “This is everything.”
I grab his shoulders and hold his gaze, needing him like nothing before. “Perfect.”
“Yes.” A drop of sweat rolls over his temple. “Like you.”
I’m far from perfect. My life is stained with blood. My body is dying. But we have this moment, and I cling to it with everything I’ve got.
He thrusts slowly, savoring me. I’m tight around him, the aftershocks from my orgasm still making my inner muscles clench.
“Sweet mother of…” he groans as another spasm hits.
Sitting back on his heels, he drapes my thighs over his. One hand wraps around my neck, while the other slips between our bodies. The hold is possessive and dominant. He’s careful not to squeeze too hard as he picks up his pace. He hates leaving marks on me. The control etched on his face is stark and raw. He looks like a beautiful, wild animal.
Changing the angle of his penetration, he hits the spot that makes my toes curl. My eyes roll back as he adds pressure to the circles he’s drawing on my clit with his thumb. The rhythm of his hips becomes punishing, but it’s what I need. My pleasure is already climbing again. The dark lust twisting around my body and stealing my reason demands instant gratification. It unleashes an uncontrollable wildness that makes me lift my hips to take him harder and deeper. It creates a tunnel vision in which nothing exists but him.
I’m close, so close. I chase my release, meeting his every thrust. When he tightens his fingers around my neck, I almost come. I’m drunk on passion, barely registering reality when he pulls out and flips me over.
Before I have time to protest, he’s back inside me, taking me with relentless thrusts.
“I want your ass,” he says raggedly, folding his hands around my middle and pulling me up on my knees.
Leaning over me, he opens the nightstand drawer and removes a tube. He’s better prepared this time. He keeps a warm hand on my back as he unscrews the cap and dribbles cold liquid between my cheeks. The pressure of his cock on my dark entrance stills me.
He kisses my spine. “Tell me if I need to stop.”
The words reassure me.
I trust him with this.
I trust him with my life.
He works himself in slowly, and the discomfort is significantly less than the first time, though there’s still an extreme feeling of fullness, a sense of being stretched beyond my limits, of being invaded in a strange, unnatural way. But the burn that comes with the stretch only adds to my need, fueling my pleasure, and when he finally starts thrusting, I’m on the verge of coming again.
“Not going to last, princess.”
It’s been so long since he’s called me princess that the word jars me from my delirious state. Where he’s used the term in a derogative way before, now it’s laced with endearment. Pressing my cheek to the mattress, I watch him from over my shoulder. His face is tight with concentration, all his focus on me.
Fastening one hand on my hip and the other on my breast, he orders hoarsely, “Touch yourself.”
The moment I do, I know it’s over for both of us. My climax is like an electric shock. I’m falling apart and coming together all at once. My lower body tightens, triggering his release, and he plunges deep, then stills with a groan, his cock pulsing inside me. Warmth fills me, and it goes much deeper than flesh. The love I thought I’d never know spreads through my veins, melting the last of the numbing chill in my heart. It should be dirty, this joining of ours, but instead, it’s pure and whole. Beautiful.
Surrendering to Yan is the most meaningful act of my life.
We collapse flat onto the bed, his weight pressing me into the mattress. I can hardly breathe, but I want to stay here forever and pretend there are no bars on the windows or defective cells in my body. I want to just lie here and love him, and pretend he loves me back.
