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“You want to be a wildcat?” Luka hisses at me, his voice filled with challenge. The anger in his tone is unmistakable, and I can tell it’s been building for a while. It’s unnerving, and I’m not sure how to respond. His intensity is palpable, and it’s clear he’s not playing games.
His hand lands with a sharp smack on my ass, the stinging sensation jolting through me. I can’t help but yelp, the sting morphing into a pulse of pleasure that rolls up my spine, turning my moan raunchier.
“Fuck you!” Annoyance bubbles in my chest. I want to tell this prick about Aleks’s scheme and Anya’s double-dealing shit, but even if I was brave enough, he’s not going to let me get a word in. Just as I try to spin around to yell in his stubborn face, he shoves me up against the wall with a growl.
His body is like a frigging iron statue, trapping me against the cold, unsympathetic tiles. His cock, hard as steel, presses into my ass, rubbing against my soaked pussy.
Ignoring the anger gnawing at me, I grind my hips back into his dick. The pleasure that zaps through me is like lightning, lighting up my nerves, drowning out the noisy thoughts in my head. My body heats up, my breath comes out in quick pants, and suddenly, all my complaints seem less important than the primal lust coursing through my veins.
“You’re fucking mine,” he rasps in my ear, his voice laced with crude possession. His grip tightens on my thigh, hoisting me up and grinding me against the cold wall. My heart hammers in my chest, each beat echoing his crude declaration.
Then he thrusts. His cock is relentless, burying deep into my soaked pussy. His hand dives between my thighs, his rough fingers grazing my swollen clit. His movements are savage, every thrust an assertion of his dominance.
Each plunge of his cock drags a guttural groan from my lips, the sensation base and primal. My pussy clenches around him, matching the rhythm of his brutal thrusts. The friction of my hard nipples against the wall sends jolts of pleasure down to my core.
He pulls out abruptly, leaving me gasping at the emptiness. But before I can voice my protest, his cock is back, filling me up again, slamming into me with a force that has me seeing stars. Pleasure spikes through me, mad and untamed, spiraling me towards the edge.
“Fuck!” My screams echo off the walls, drowned only by the sound of our bodies colliding.
His release follows shortly after, his cum filling me up, trickling down my thighs as a primal reminder of the rough fucking we just shared. I collapse under his weight, gasping for breath, the gritty reality of the encounter seeping in.
And then, without a word, he leaves. The door slams shut behind him, echoing through the silent room like a gavel declaring a verdict.
I’m left alone, naked and used in the empty shower. It feels like a thousand knives are slicing my heart apart.
Picking myself up, I turn on the shower. The hot water washes over me, attempting to cleanse away the grimy aftermath of our rough encounter. My hand reaches down between my legs, rinsing off the traces of him that he’s left behind. His cum trickles down my thighs with the water, each contraction of my spent pussy sending a fresh wave from me.
But nothing can wash away the taste of betrayal that lingers in my mouth. As I scrub angrily at my skin, silent tears mingle with the water. All I can think about is how I let myself be used. The raw reality of the situation is a harsh pill to swallow. I wrap my arms around myself, shaking quietly under the cascade of water.
I start sobbing.
The hot water pummeling my body is the only thing grounding me. My body is wracked with violent shudders, each one ripping through me like a shockwave.
My chest tightens. But my lungs are contracting inwards. It hurts.
The hurt and betrayal constrict around my heart like a vise. It feels like it’s going to explode, to burst out of my chest, and all the pain and betrayal and guilt will spill out in a messy, ugly wave.
It’s too much. It’s all too fucking much.
The weight of the deception, the shame, the guilt – it’s suffocating me. I sink to my knees, the cold tiles a sharp contrast to the warm water washing over me. The pain is overwhelming, the silence deafening.
I try to scream, but all that comes out is a choked sob.
Chapter 50
Luka
EMERGING FROM the gym, my muscles hot and my mind still a jumble of fresh release and my frustration, I barely notice Svetlana reprimanding one of the maids. My focus is elsewhere. I need to find Yulia.
“Svetlana, where’s Yulia?”
The maid scurries away, and Svetlana turns her steely gaze to me. “Miss Ivankov is in the garden, sir.”
“Good. Spasibo.” I’m already moving, but Svetlana isn’t finished.
“Mr. Ivankov, if I may, the arrangements for the party on Saturday need your attention. There are some decisions that require your approval.”
I stop, glancing back at her, irritation flaring. “Can’t it wait, Svetlana? I will go over it with you later.”
