I was a bit distracted, so I didn’t realize he opened the drawer of his nightstand, opened a condom with his teeth, and was about to pull it over his perfect cock.
“Wait.”
He froze.
“I didn’t even get a chance to?—”
“To what?” he asked.
“Look at you, touch you…” I whispered.
He put his head back and groaned. “Can you wait until next time?”
I licked my lips, and he immediately zeroed in on my lips and groaned again.
Could I wait? Maybe…probably. I nodded, which was all he needed.
He was there, positioning himself between my thighs. He paused, his eyes locking with mine in a silent question.
“Please,” I whispered, reaching for him.
With one powerful thrust, he entered me, filling me completely.
I cried out, the sensation overwhelming—a delicious stretch that bordered on pain before melting into pleasure. Thank God I was wet and ready.
We both froze for a moment, adjusting to the intensity of the connection.
Then he began to move, setting a rhythm that was deliberate and deep but constrained. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure radiating through my body, building the tension anew. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulled him closer, wanting, needing more.
His control was slipping again; I could see it in the tightening of his jaw, the popping veins on his forearms—and feel it in the increasing urgency of his movements. His eyes never left mine, maintaining that connection even as our bodies were joined in the most intimate way possible.
He leaned into me and nibbled my earlobe. “Mine,” he growled against my skin, the possessiveness in his voice sending an unexpected thrill through me. The word should have offended me, should have triggered my need forindependence and my defiance. Instead, it felt right in a way no words could explain.
He bit my neck, then sucked, simultaneously painful and sensual.
I found myself responding to his intensity with a fervor that surprised me, meeting him thrust for thrust. I still needed more.
Needed his self-control gone.
Russian words spilled from his lips as his movements became more urgent, the foreign words somehow more intimate than English could have been. I didn’t need to understand the words to comprehend their meaning—praise, possession, promise.
But I still needed more. Needed him unleashed. Needed him to stop my brain from working.
I grabbed his head, and he stilled.
“Too much?” he asked, and I almost chuckled.
Too much? Not nearly enough. “More. I need more. I need it all.”
Something in his eyes glittered, and a dark smile played around his lips. He moved my legs over his shoulders and pulled me up into the air, until he was impossibly deep inside of me, then he placed his hand around my throat and choked me slightly.
I groaned. I never knew I liked being choked. On the contrary, actually. But this…with him—this was exactly what I needed.
He leaned down until our lips touched. “How much more do you need, my dirty girl?” he whispered, then thrust into me with one long, hard push.
Yes.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything, could only receive his thrusts, his kisses, the absolute power he held over me. I completely surrendered. Let him take over my body and mind. And in the darkness, I found parts of myself I’d hidden away, surrendered to feelings I’d denied even existed.
