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Yolanda gasps behind me, and I’m sure she’s disgusted or even terrified at the filth pouring out of me. But that kiss drove me past the point of no return, and I just hope Yolanda thinks this is part of my act, the vulgar upsetting crap I warned her would spew from my filthy lips as I let myself go, opened up to the possessive predator that’s been awakened in a way it never has before, not for any woman, not once, not even close.
“Ah, there is the madness of raw desire,” says Kazi now, grinning wide but with a hint of nervousness in his sudden smile, like maybe he saw that no way I’m faking this possessive rage, that I’m so fired up I really might get to him even if he empties that entire magazine of bullets into my pumping heart. “Now I see the wild dog who would risk his life to follow where his cock leads. See, Mother? I told you a man’s cock does not lie.” He swipes at the air, then lumbers back to his chair and sits down heavily. “Go ahead, biker. You paid fifty grand for that pussy. I will not interrupt you again until you get your money’s worth. Take her the way you want. Slow, fast, gentle, rough, in the mouth, up the ass, choke her, stroke her, caress her, kill her, I do not give a fuck. I just need to know you are not some soft-hearted savior who cannot get it up for a captured princess.”
Mother Kazi snarls something in Russian, and I can see that she’s not convinced. She wants me dead, and if that happens, Yolanda is dead too—after Kazi puts his ugly cock in her. If it were just Kazi in this room, my display of genuine possessive rage might have been enough to convince him. But with Mother Kazi whispering from the shadows, we need to play this out all the way.
Still, my posturing has at least bought me the right to take Yolanda the way I want.
And what I want is to make her feel good.
Make her feel safe.
It seems like an impossible task after what she’s been through—is still going through. But that kiss makes me believe anything is possible, and I lean in and kiss Yolanda again, gently on the lips, now sliding my hands down along her back, massaging her stiff muscles with my fingers.
She relaxes immediately, exhaling warmly into my mouth, her lips parting for my tongue, her body sighing with something that’s more than just relief.
My palms move down along her sides, tracing their way down curves that make my already-stiff cock go to full mast beneath my jeans. She settles her ass against the table-edge, her thighs spreading slightly as my bulge presses against her mound.
“Oh, hell,” I groan softly against her cheek, breaking from the kiss because I’m panting now, my body grinding her dress into her naked mound. A part of me wants to rip that dress off, but there’s another part of me that can’t allow another man to see my woman naked. She’s been humiliated enough by being forced to display her pussy to perverts like Kazi and Durand, and there’s no way I’m letting anyone violate her even with their eyes. “Hell, Yolanda, you’re so beautiful, so perfect.”
Her eyelids flutter open like she’s surprised, maybe curious to see if this is part of the act. But her gaze softens and her breath quickens when I smile and kiss her again, grasping her hips while making sure my palms hold her dress down so it doesn’t ride up as we grind together.
“What . . . what’s happening, Brock?” she whimpers, her eyes glazing over as her body trembles under my touch. “Why does it . . . why does it feel like this?”
I don’t answer because I’m lost in that same feeling. With a quick move I slide my palms under her ass, lifting her easily off the floor and sitting her down on the table. She gasps at the sudden move, tries to say something, but my mouth smothers her trembling lips and my hand moves around to the back of her neck, fingers sliding up into her thick hair as I kiss her deep and long.
“Lie back, baby,” I murmur against her mouth, pushing her down onto her back, my knuckles grazing her breasts, my fingertips tracing past nipples that are hard and erect, pointy and perfect. Shit, I want to suck those nipples, but I won’t undress her in front of those two twisted creatures. She’s mine, and I will keep her covered, preserve at least a shred of her dignity while we fuck for our lives.
Now she’s on her back, and I raise her knees, help her plant her bare feet on the edge of the table, making sure her dress is under her ass, the sides riding up but still offering enough cover that Kazi can’t see her pussy from where he’s sitting.
But now I can see beneath her dress, and the sight of her slit almost makes me explode in my jeans.
Because it’s shining with wetness.
Glistening with nectar like a flower in the rain.
“Oh, fuck, baby, you’re already wet,” I groan, my fingers feverishly unbuckling my heavy leather belt, hands yanking open the button-fly of my crotch. I don’t choke my cock and balls with underwear, and so my erection springs out as my jeans fall down over my riding boots. “So wet and so beautiful.”
Yolanda’s eyelids flutter open and she raises her head off the table. Our gazes meet, and in her eyes I see my future, understand that it was always meant to play out this way. Maybe it’s the madness of the moment, the chaos of this circumstance, but I swear this feels like we’re about to make love even though of course Yolanda would be a thousand miles from here if she had a choice, would kill us all in a heartbeat if she had the power, would send us all to hell if she had one wish.
But if I had one wish?
Fuck, I’d still be right here.
“It’s going to be all right, Yolanda,” I say in a strained whisper when I see her eyes widen at the sight of my big cock erect and upright, its bulbous head shining with my pre-cum, its thick shaft already glistening from the natural lubricant. Her scent rises to me from beneath her dress, from between those legs, and I swallow thickly to fight the desperate urge to taste her first, to lick her beautiful slit, to feel her soft folds with my tongue before pushing my cock in there. I try to be a decent man, but fighting the need is hopeless. I need to put my face in there. “I’m going to make sure you’re ready for me before I go into you.”
She murmurs something but I can’t hear through the roar of blood thundering in my temples as I get my head under her dress and press my mouth against her pretty little slit. Her body stiffens immediately, then suddenly relaxes when I open my mouth and gently drag my tongue lengthwise along her tight pussy lips.
“Oh, shit,” she whimpers, and now I feel her hands on my head, her fingers driving through my hair and holding on as my tongue finds her clit and presses down on that stiff little bean. “Oh, shit, Brock, what are you . . . I can’t even . . . oh . . . oh . . . oh!”
And suddenly her body tightens and her mound bucks up into my mouth and her pussy squirts as Yolanda comes in my face. It’s totally fucking unexpected, and I almost lose my mind as she claws at my hair and convulses like she’s having a seizure. My cock bobs and throbs as I lap at Yolanda like a wolf at a river, and immediately I know it’s time, that she’s as ready as she’s ever going to be, that I’m more ready than I’ve ever been to fuck a woman.
Now my head comes out from beneath her dress and I grab her hips and pull her body down so her ass is halfway off the table’s edge. Grabbing the sides of her dress, I pull down the hem to cover her thighs and bottom best I can.
Then I rise to full height and guide my cock to the dark space between her legs.
“Oh, fuck, you’re so warm,” I groan as my cockhead finds her slit and pushes through her soft folds. She opens for me, and I almost pass out from the sublime sensation of her tight pussy opening up for my heavy shaft. “So damn tight. Relax, baby. I’ll go slow.”
But damn, it’s not going to be easy to keep that promise to go slow. My body is racked with raw desire, a desperate need to ram my entire length into her hole, claim every inch of this pussy that I suddenly know is my possession, my property, mine not because I paid for it but because I was born for it, because I live for it, because I would fucking die for it.
