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His other hand dips between my legs, which are spread wide on either side of his own. He finds my clit and when he rubs, I cry out his name again.
“Show them, baby. You want this. Now, take it.”
I do. I fucking take it. I takehim, rolling and writhing my hips until I work up a rhythm that has both of us groaning and gasping out of control. I’m so fucking close and I can feel that he is, too.
“Show him. Show him how beautiful you are when you come on my cock. Show him the way you look when I fill you up.”
Demyen pulls me down hard as he thrusts up, thickening inside me even more.
“Me. Not him.”
Another hard thrust.
I’m almost fuckingthere.
“You’re mine, Clara. Only mine.” Demyen uses his fingertips to turn my face to his. “Don’t fucking forget it.”
I’m bucking. I’m screaming. I’m muffled by his mouth slanted over mine, swallowing his own cries as he fills me with liquid heat I swear spreads all the way to my toes. I can’t stop writhing on his cock and he won’t stop coaxing every toe-curling spasm from me.
We’re falling together and we don’t care who watches us. We don’t fucking care as long as they get the message loud and clear. One message. Five little words.
I belong to Demyen Zakrevsky.
I don’t know how long I’ve been passed out like this. Facedown, ass up, legs spread like I’m in heat and waiting for my stud to walk in.
And the long end of a hairbrush slowly easing from my soaked slit.
The only reason I know I’ve been biting down on my pillow is because my teeth are still pressed around a solid chunk of it. Unlike the sopping mess between my legs, my mouth is dry and tastes like cotton.
Cotton, sweat, and shame.
I have nothing to be embarrassed about. Logically, I know that. But I cannot believe that, out of all the fantasies my brain could possibly come up with,that’sthe one it conjured.
Just remembering it suddenly makes my thighs quiver.
Nope.This was a one-time thing. Demyen is not allowed to take advantage of me in my own fantasies; he’s already living rent-free in my head.
Once I’m finally able to feel my legs again, I roll off the bed and angrily yank on the first tank top I can find. But then I realize I should probably take a shower, so I yank it right off again and shuffle my way to the bathroom.
The sight of Demyen’s body wash in place of my own makes me sigh. Not because I’m irritated.
But because, despite the promise Ijustmade myself, I know I won’t make it through this shower without imagining him in there with me. Taking care of me tenderly after using me like he did out there on the table.
Rewarding me for being his good girl.
Fuck.
43
CLARA
I can’t sleep.
I took a shower—and then I took acoldshower—and I even tried making myself a cup of tea in the little kitchenette part of the suite.
But I still. Can’t. Fucking. Sleep.
“Earlier” definitely took the edge off something. What that “something” is, I don’t know, but I feel a distinct lack of tension in my limbs.
