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Her body writhes under my touch as I continue to rub and caress her silky soft skin. When I feel her ribs, how frail and underfed she is, I let out another growl. This time, I’m pissed.
Not at her, of course. It’s just another thing I’m adding to the list of things I’m going to take out on Oleg.
“Let me know if anything hurts.”
Clara purrs and holds my head to her. “Harder.”
Oh, I am definitely harder. I’m also going to keep testing the levels until she tells me to stop—and I hope she does actually tell me to stop.
I’m more worried she won’t.
My arms wrap around her tighter, pulling her into me until there’s no space left between us. I suck on the curve of her neck, swirl that same patch of skin with my tongue, then bite down.
She doesn’t tell me to stop. Instead, she cries out softly and digs her nails into my shoulder blades, grinding on my lap.
I pull off with a wet smack of my lips against her skin the second I hear the slightest hint of a whimper. The mark left behind is big and red, and is undoubtedly going to leave a solid hickey there for a few days.
By the way she moans and kisses me again, then presses me to the other side of her neck…
I’m getting the impression that’s exactly what she wants.
A quick turn tumbles us onto the bed, and I tuck her under me before she has a chance to wriggle away. The fact that she’s here, right here, sighing my name and reaching for me to kiss me… This gift is not lost on me.
I know how things could have gone.
I know how lucky we both are to have this moment.
My tongue glides along her collarbone, then lower, until I find the swell of her breast. But a new surge of rage rolls through me when I see the faint lash marks darting across her sensitive skin.
I lightly graze the tip of her nipple with my teeth. Clara hisses, so I immediately stop and look up to ask, “Too much?”
She bites her lip, blushes, and slowly shakes her head. “No, sorry. Just… really sensitive there.”
“I can?—”
“Don’t stop. Please.”
Not that I could even if I wanted to. I’ve been starving for her and now, she’s laid out before me like a feast.
Clara moans and arches her body closer to me as I kiss her breasts. “Yesss… please…”
Who knows how much time passes between savoring her plump softness and moving on—down her ribs, to her stomach, where I find more bruises shaped like fingerprints. As I find each one, I suck and bite and lick her skin until my marks are the only ones either of us can see.
By the time I reach the delicious curve of her hip, her waist is a tapestry of my reclaiming.
I almost want Oleg to come by. Just so he can see and understand—without question—that she ismywoman.
I drape her legs over my shoulders and settle between them. Kissing her mound feels like an act of worship. Maybe it is; I findmyself breathing words of thanks with every press of my lips to her damp skin. She shivers, moans, and rolls her hips with such eagerness that I have to press a hand over her lower stomach to hold her in place.
“Please, Demyen… I need…”
I know what she wants, but I’m getting a better sense of what she needs as I kiss and lick around her slit without going for it right away. The finger-sized bruises on the insides of her thighs add more fuel to my rage; I count each one as I bite and suck them away.
Each one is another day that Oleg will suffer before I grant him death.
“Harder, Dem. Please…” Clara tugs my hair in her fingers, urging me to go rougher.
She wants to play with fire? Fine—I’ll make it hot for her.
