I was so very wrong.
I felt him shift in the bed. It took me a few seconds to realize that he was moving and positioning himself behind me. I felt the hard, heavy length of his cock press against the slick, swollen folds of my sex.
“Wait,” I whimpered, a pathetic, desperate plea. “I can’t.”
“You can,” he growled. “Because I want you to.”
He lined himself up with my entrance, the head of his cock nudging against me, a hot, hard promise of what was to come.
He grabbed my hips, his hands like vises, and with one brutally ruthless thrust, he drove himself into me.
I cried out, my body bowing in half pain and half shock. He was big, bigger than Viktor, a thick, hard stretch that burned in a way that was both agony and ecstasy. He’d given me no warning, no preparation, and my body, already over-sensitized from my last orgasm, rebelled against the sudden intrusion.
His thumb was still in my ass.
And now his cock was deep inside my pussy.
I was full.
So incredibly, overwhelmingly full.
I moaned, my hands fisting the pillow, my knuckles turning white. I tried to keep my mouth closed, but there was no stopping the sounds of pleasure escaping me.
He pulled all the way out, then slammed back in, a mercilessly hard drive that made my entire body jerk.
Then again.
And again.
My body responded instinctually, my inner muscles clamping down on him. His other hand came down on my already sore bottom once more. I yelped, a pathetic, humiliating sound that was immediately swallowed by the sheets beneath me.
“You’re getting wetter. I can feel it,” he announced, his thrusts becoming faster, more demanding. “You like this, don’t you? You like me using you like this.”
I couldn’t answer. The pain, the pleasure, the overwhelming sensation of being completely dominated, with both my holes filled by him at the same time. It was too much. It was not nearly enough.
Oh,God.
“You’re mine, Katerina,” he growled, punctuating each word with a powerful driving thrust and a simultaneous smack. “All of you. Inside and out.”
His thumb, which had been still, started to move again, a slow counterpoint to the punishing rhythm of his cock.
“Aaaah!” I cried out. “Oh, fuck! Mikhail!”
I lost control. My body, my traitorous, treacherous body, started moving on its own. My hips bucked, my back arched, my legs shook, and there was nothing I could do to make it stop.
He let out a groan of pure triumph. He knew he had won.
I knew it too.
He set a punishingly ruthless rhythm, a brutal, driving beat that was designed to push me to the very brink of my endurance.
And he did.
The sounds we were making were obscene. The bed creaked in protest, the headboard banging against the wall with a rhythmic thud that was a clear, undeniable announcement of what was happening in this room. I was being fucked. I was being used.
And I was loving every second of it.
“Mikhail,” I sobbed, my face buried in the pillow. “Please… I can’t… I… can’t come… anymore.”
