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“Blyad! Your pussy feels like heaven…” I’m not exaggerating. I can’t remember the time a woman felt so good beneath me. Her moans are getting louder, and her body is starting to shake, her thighs quivering as she clasps them around my waist. Her nails dig into my back, scoring trails down my skin.
I can tell she’s getting dangerously close; her cunt is tightening around me, pulsing and clenching every time I slam into her. Her back bows, pushing her tits into my chest, and her head falls back, mouth open as she gasps for air. Her cries fill the room, mixing with the wet sounds of us fucking and the slick smack of our hips meeting.
“Kirill! Oh my God, Kirill!” She screams. Her hips buck up harder, desperate for release, desperate for me to push her over that edge.
“That’s it, Ptichka,” I grind out through gritted teeth, as I brace my arms on either side of her head. “Fucking come for me. Come all over my cock.”
Her head shoots up and her nails dig in harder, and then she’s saying my name again, the word barely coherent through her screams. I can’t hold back anymore. Her walls pulse around me, her cries reaching a fever pitch. Her body tenses and releases as she orgasms, her juices coating my cock and spilling out around it. Her ass and thighs shake wildly against my dick as I continue to thrust, riding out her orgasm until I finally hit my own.
A low growl rumbles in my chest as my balls tense and release their contents. My cock throbs as I fill her with my cum. It mixes with hers, the hot fluid making a slick mess between us. I continue to thrust until the last wave of pleasure ebbs away, then I slow to a stop, buried deep inside her.
Bozhe moy.
She is fucking amazing. We’re both panting and sweaty, our bodies something more than entwined as we lay there, trying to catch our breaths. I pull out of her slowly, my cock leaving her with a small pop and a trickle of cum spilling out of her.
After a moment, I roll off of her and onto my back, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over me. It’s a feeling I shove aside immediately. She’s not my rest. She’s a means to an end. I can’t forget that.
I turn my head and run an eye over her face. She’s beautiful, alright. Even if she hadn’t fallen into my lap with all this bullshit, I would have picked her out of a crowd. She’s looking up at me, a soft smile on her lips and wonder in her eyes. She looks... innocent. Vulnerable. And fuck, she’s good at the whole innocent and vulnerable thing.
It's almost enough to make me forget the bullshit she’s wrapped up in. Almost enough to make me forget my disgust at her father and the fact that she’s the daughter of someone who betrayed me by selling information to my fucking enemies.
There’s no chance of developing feelings for this woman. She’ll give me my heir, and help me complete my empire.
After that, I’ll decide what to do with her.
Chapter Eleven
Tiana
I stretch beneath the covers and yawn as I stir awake.
My eyelids are heavy, and my body feels languorous and sore… but in a delicious way.
Suddenly, memories come flooding back like a tidal wave.
Dad!
I don’t care that he was probably the worst father in the world. He was still my dad. Even if he sold me to a ruthless criminal. A criminal who took me to heaven and back in a way I’d never imagined. A rush of humiliation and desire crash over me.
Oh, my God!
“No,” I groan out loud as I slide a hand beneath the smooth sheets and realize that he’s gone. I’m not sure if I’m sad or glad about that.
Glad!
Definitely glad!
I hate him. Hate him for bossing me around, and treating me like an object. I hate him for taking me so roughly yet skillfully that I thought I’d combust on the spot. But most of all, I hate him for leaving me alone in this cold, unfamiliar bed.
Even though I’ll never admit that last part.
My eyes dart around my surroundings as I try to orient myself. The room is opulent - like the rest of the damned over-the-top place - yet it’s masculine, with dark wood paneling and plush leather furniture. I’m drifting in a king-sized bed that dominates the space. The dark sheets - which probably have a 500 thread count - still hold his scent. It’s a heady mix of smoke and spice that makes my stomach flip in ways it shouldn’t. Thick curtains are drawn across the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting the room in a sensual gloom that only serves to remind me of what I was doing right in this bed mere hours ago.
I sit up, wincing as every muscle in my body protests the movement. He’d been relentless last night - dominant and demanding, and yet bringing me more pleasure than I’d ever believed the human body was capable of experiencing. My cheeks flame when I think of how eagerly I’d succumbed to him. Just as he’d told me I would. It’s yet another reason to hate him; for being right about that.
And now he’s gone...
I flop back and lie there, still tangled up in the sheets, trying to clear my head. My mind keeps replaying the last few hours, trying to make sense of them. Trying not to think of how he’d taken me roughly, how his hands had gripped my hips and pulled me onto him as he thrust into me. How his breath had felt, hot against my neck as he whispered dirty things in my ear that had me squirming in shame and desire at the same time. How he’d gripped my hair and pulled my head back as he came deep inside me.
