“Please.” I grind my ass against him. Aching.
What on earth could this man do to me if he had all the time in the world?
He forces patience, one hand tracing the curve of my spine, the other sliding between my legs, where he finds me wet and ready. “So eager.” He slips one finger inside me without having to work at it. Then two, stretching me. “So damn perfect.”
Footsteps, muffled voices, and the distant sound of a television continue overhead.
Knowing that Brenda, a handful of her elitist friends, and her family are just above us, none the wiser to what’s happening in their basement, adds a forbidden thrill that causes me to clench around his fingers.
He hums in appreciation. “You like that, don’t you? The risk. The secret.”
Withdrawing his fingers, he positions himself at my entrance. One hand grips my hip while the other traps me against the boxes.
Then he slowly pushes inside.
That inexorable slide steals the breath from my lungs.
I lose myself in the exquisite pressure. That burning stretch that borders on too much and not enough. I bite my lip to stop myself from crying out, my fingers curling against the cardboard beneath me, nails digging into family memories preserved in glossy prints.
When he’s fully seated inside me, he pauses, allowing me to adjust to his size. His ragged breathing is the only evidence of his struggle to maintain control.
His soft but calloused hands burn where they touch my skin, gentle but unyielding.
I’ve never felt more alive than I do under his palms.
Then he begins to move in shallow thrusts that quickly deepen, each one driving me forward against the boxes.
My breasts drag across the dusty cardboard with every push, nipples tightening from the friction.
With each thrust, pleasure sparks up my spine.
I clutch the edges of the box, desperate to ground myself in the haze from Kolya’s touch.
Dust clouds rise around us, the tiny particles forming a halo of filth in the dim light.
I’m being marked.
Streaks of gray on my skin, in my hair, on my clothes.
Dirtied in the most literal sense.
A perverse thrill grips me.
My body clenches around him, and he groans. The low, throaty sound settles deep in my core.
Kolya’s pace increases. One hand finds the front of my throat. Not squeezing. Just touching. Resting.
A collar of flesh and bone that marks me as his.
Miss Chloe, covered in glitter yesterday, covered in dust tonight. The good girl getting screwed in the basement of a woman I despise, bent over family photos that bear silent witness to my fall from grace.
Kolya’s quickening pace drives me crazy.
My racing heart pounds to the beat of Kolya’s body in mine. He pulls me upright against his chest, his cock driving even deeper from this new angle.
Harder.
So hard, I rise up on my toes.
