His eyes sharpen, confusion slicing through him, but I don’t explain. I just take him in, slow and deep, inviting him to feel the ache unraveling inside me, the yearning.
“Jordan?” His tone is questioning.
I moan a response that’s impossible to misunderstand.
The next time my name leaves his mouth, there’s no indecision. “Jordan.”
The force of his voice thunders through me, ripping me apart from the inside. I press my thighs together, desperate for any kind of relief.
I suck him harder, faster. Every time he says my name, I barrel closer to losing control.
Suddenly, his hands clamp down on my arms.
I don’t have time to react.
He lifts me like I’m as light as air. The flex of strength shocks me. A moment later, he flips me onto my back and cages my body with his.
The balance of power has tipped entirely into his hands.
“You like when I say your name?” His rough voice is shredded velvet.
Finding forming words difficult, I nod. My body trembles, every muscle strung tight.
He smiles. Not the calculated, cold tilt of lip I know from before, but a dangerous grin that promises equal parts pleasure and ruin, and I’ll gladly accept both.
“I’m going to call your name while I fuck you into oblivion.” Every syllable sends tremors straight through me. “I want to hear you scream mine back.”
His hands shift, manipulating my body like he’s done so a thousand times. One hand digs into my hip while the other hooks under my knee, opening me wide. I’m totally exposed and powerless to do anything but take what he offers.
He slides into me in one relentless thrust, and I forget how to breathe.
Stars crowd my vision, and the unyielding grip of his hands erases every thought until only sensation remains.
“Jordan.” My name grinds from his throat, again and again, matching the punishing rhythm of his hips. “Jordan. Jordan.”
Every repetition draws me higher, closer to the brink. I’m utterly desperate, grabbing his arms, the sheets, anything to keep from coming apart completely as the pleasure climbs.
I need this, need him, but more than that…Iwanthim.
I want this, over and over, until I can’t remember a time without him inside me.
Until there is only Kirill.
The shark’s caught his prey. And I’m eager to remain clenched in his jaws.
Our breath comes ragged, sweat slicking our skin. The whole world’s reduced to the shattering sound of my name, to the way he drives into me without restraint.
“Kirill!” My voice claws out of me, scraping my throat raw. “Kirill, please?—”
He shifts just a fraction, angling deeper until I’m at the edge and staring down at release.
His rhythm stutters as urgency bleeds through and roughens his motions. Still, he chants my name, like a prayer or a curse. Or both.
It’s that litany—the sound of my name breaking loose from his lips—that finally unravels me.
The orgasm hits with no warning or mercy, just a flash-flood that wrecks every thought, every muscle, every last shield.
My body locks up so tightly, I swear my bones will break. I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. There’s only the rush of blood in my skull and the ghost of my name, echoing, echoing, echoing.
