All of him.
“Eyes on me, butterfly.”
I looked over my shoulder. He was no longer man but beast, so handsome I was swooning. So possessive I was thrown by how amazing that felt.
Four more savage smacks and he lifted his head, the growl emitted slow and easy. A hum formed in every muscle. When his gaze met mine again, he took several deep breaths before sliding the brush between my legs. My, oh, my. The sensations bolted through me. Sparks of current and red-hot fire.
I was still on my toes, clinging to the wall as if it was a lifeline. The smooth back of the brush was almost soothing, lulling me into a peaceful moment. The feeling was short lived as he twisted the brush until the bristles connected with my swollen folds.
“Oh, God. Oh, my God.” The lightheaded feeling was stronger than before. I was so sensitive yet never wanted him to stop.
Every stroke was powerful and once again, I was ready to come. Eager. Hungry.
His eyes turned molten, his expression hard just like the man.
The dizziness increased, but I knew he was right here. He’d never allow me to fall.
I was desperate, my needs escalating. I had to come. I was going to lose my mind if I didn’t.
He rubbed my pussy several times. Nothing about him appeared to be in a rush. He was enjoying tormenting me, dragging me to the very edge of my sanity.
And in truth, I was all for it.
Pulling the brush away, he slipped it under his nose, taking a long, deep breath. This was filthy and delicious, a dangerous combination that I never wanted to end.
Sasha wasn’t finished yet, flipping the brush and using the handle to tease me. As he rubbed the edge of the wood against one thigh, I struggled with what was left of my sanity. Unable to control myself, I pushed away from the wall. It was a blatant offering.
Another deep, dark chuckle.
Another drag of his tongue across his lower lip.
Another look that told me without a shadow of a doubt that I belonged to him.
Then he pressed the handle against my pussy and I almost lost it. With practiced measure, he slipped it inside.
With his jaw strained and his muscles tense, he twirled the handle, inch by inch filling me. Controlling me.
Owning me.
“Come for me,malen’kaya babochka. Come.”
There was no denying his command.
The man was everything I’d craved yet tarnished by years of unwanted control.
Yet he’d corrupted me in delicious, irrevocable ways.
My body would always betray me when I was with him. Today was no exception. As a climax rocketed through me, I was momentarily lost in pure euphoria. No light and no sound were able to penetrate the incredible moment. I finally heard my sharp cry and smiled. The exhilaration was sweet.
How was it possible this beautiful Russian with the voice of a demon could break the ice, forge a bond, and allow me to shiver with desire from the sinful thoughts and actions?
Perhaps the answer was simple.
Because he owned me.
CHAPTER 14
Sasha
