“Then I’m going to fuck you until the only word you remember is my name.”
He bites gently where thigh meets hip, and I cry out, pulling against my restraints, desperate for more.
“Roman, pozhaluysta—”
“Shh.” He spreads my thighs wider with his hands, looking at the wet mess of me with naked hunger that makes my face flush and my hips buck toward him. “Did you think about this on the plane? About my mouth on your cunt while you pretended to read that magazine?”
“Yes—” The word comes out broken. “Bozhe, Roman, da, ya dumala o—”
He seals his lips around my clit and sucks hard, and I lose the ability to form sentences, my back arching off the bed with a moan that echoes off the walls of our bedroom.
He works me with devastating skill, his mouth and tongue knowing exactly how to take me apart, alternating pressure and speed, bringing me to the edge and backing off, building me higher and higher until I’m sobbing with need.
The orgasm hits without warning—his tongue flicking my clit while two fingers push inside me, curling against the spot that makes my vision white out—and I come so hard I lose track of everything except pleasure and his name torn from my throat like a prayer.
He doesn’t stop.
“Again.” He adds a third finger and stretches me open while his mouth keeps working my oversensitive clit. “Give me another one, solnyshko. I want to feel you come on my fingers.”
The second orgasm builds faster than the first, pleasure and overstimulation blurring together into something that borders on pain but tips into ecstasy when he crooks his fingers just right. I shatter again, clenching around him with rhythmic pulses while he groans against my flesh like my pleasure is the best thing he’s ever tasted.
“Fuck.” His voice is wrecked when he pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while I lie there trembling and destroyed. “You taste so good. I could eat you for hours.”
“Please.” I’m beyond shame now, beyond anything except wanting him inside me.
“Since you ask so nicely.”
He moves up my body, and the blunt head of him presses against my entrance. I hold my breath as he pushes forward in one long, devastating stroke that seats him fully inside me.
Full.
So full I can’t think, can’t breathe, can only feel him everywhere—stretching me, claiming me, branding me from the inside out.
“Blyad’.” His forehead drops to mine, his breath ragged against my lips. “Anya. So tight. Always so fucking tight for me.”
He starts to move, and I lose track of everything except the slide of him inside me, the grip of his hands on my hips, the sound of our bodies meeting with each thrust.
“Look at me.”
I force my eyes open, find his gaze, and the intensity there steals what’s left of my breath. Grey eyes burning with want and love and something possessive that should frighten me, and instead makes me feel safer than I’ve ever felt in my life.
“This is mine.” He drives deeper, and I moan, the angle hitting something inside me that makes sparks explode behind my eyes. “This pussy. This body. This woman. Mine. Say it.”
“Tvoya.” The word tears out of me with a sob. “Yours. Only yours, always—”
He increases his pace, fucking me harder, deeper, each thrust punching the air out of my lungs and driving me closer to another orgasm I don’t think I can survive.
“Opyat’.” His thumb finds my oversensitive clit and circles. “Come for me again. I want to feel you come on my cock.”
I break.
The pleasure is so intense I lose myself in it, dimly aware that I’m screaming his name, that my body is clamping down on him, that he’s groaning and burying himself to the hilt, and he pulses inside me, filling me, claiming me completely.
“Blyad’, Anya—” His whole body shudders as he comes, his face buried in my neck, his cock throbbing inside me with each wave of his release. “I love you. I love you so much it hurts.”
He collapses forward, catching his weight on his forearms, his forehead dropping to mine while we both struggle to breathe.
“I love you.” I turn my head to kiss him, soft and sweet after all that intensity. “Now untie me so I can hold you properly.”
