She unbuckles her seatbelt and scoots over to me, then she unbuckles mine and straddles me. We never stop looking at each other. Her arms sling around my neck, and her head tilts. "Well, you're in luck then, Mr. Conti. Because I am very much in love with you."
I would have never thought those three words could mean that much to me. Could unravel me like this. With a groan, I bury my hand in her hair and angle my face forward until our lips align.
"Will you let me kiss you?"
Her smile deepens, "I thought you'd never ask."
Fuck.
Kissing her has always been hot, but this? This is next-level scorching. My dick doesn't just get hard; it turns to granite. She lifts her ass in invitation, and I don't hesitate for a second to undo her pants and shove them down her long legs. Her pussy is already drenched. A groan escapes me when I find out. Our lips are still fused when she works the buckle of my belt, the button of my pants, the zipper. Her cool hands around my shaft harden it even more. She doesn't waste a second feeding my cock into her greedy cunt. She nips my tongue while I suck her lips against my teeth. Pushing my hips up, I plunge deep into her warm wetness, groaning in pleasure as her tight wallsclose around me. One hand squeezes her ass, while my other moves up underneath her blouse. I push the cup of her bra up and palm her tit. She moans into my mouth, bites me harder. In response, I squeeze her ass again, not holding back much.
Her head moves back, breaking our kiss, and I latch on to her exposed neck while her hands pull on my hair without mercy. I'm pretty sure she pulls a good chunk of it out, but I couldn't care less as she moves up and down on my cock like a goddess.
"Fuck, Oksana," I mumble, biting into her neck.
She retaliates by loosening my tie enough so she can shove her hands down my shirt and scratch my shoulders. Her nails dig deep into my skin, half-moon imprints I'm sure I'll wear with pride for the next few days. I suck her skin by the base of her neck, leaving marks she will wear just as proudly.
Our movements become more frantic as we chase our releases.
One hand slides up her ribcage, hesitating for a split second on the padded gauze covering her stitches. I know I should be gentle, but the animal in me can't resist the urge to possess. My thumb brushes the spot where she nearly took a bullet. She notices my hesitation. Captures my face in her hands, fingers hard against my jaw, smudging my stubble with her own sweat. "Don't you dare slow down," she growls, hips grinding even deeper. "You want it. Take it."
I oblige, palming her ass. Her pussy clamps down, and my vision whites out for a hot second. She senses it, clamps her palm over my mouth, and whispers, "Not yet," before dragging my lower lip between her teeth.
She slows, grinds out a rhythm, her thighs quaking, her eyes locked on mine. "I want you to remember this," she whispers. "I want you to remember whoyoubelong to."
"You're delusional," I say, my voice half-muffled by her hand. There's nothing in the world I want more than to let her claim me like this, to lose every ounce of autonomy in this exact moment. My body is already betraying me, hands slipping up her sides, mouth latched onto whatever bare skin I can find. I taste sweat and perfume and the metallic tang of yesterday's violence.
She leans in, teeth grazing my ear. "You think I'm afraid of pain? I grew up on pain," she says, and plunges herself down again, taking me to the hilt. The stitches have to be pulling, but she doesn't even flinch. If anything, she gets wetter.
"You're the soft one now. Mio Marito." She teases.
"Yeah?" I thrust up, meeting her with everything I've got. "Let's see you break me, then."
She throws her head back and fucks me so hard I see stars. The air in the car goes feral: it's sweat, leather, and the electric burn of ozone before a storm. A bottle rockets off the mini-bar and shatters somewhere behind us, but I don't look back. I only see her.
She's close. I can feel her legs start to shake as the first wave hits. She shoves her hand into the scruff of my hair and yanks until my neck snaps back, and she holds me there—completely at her mercy—while she orgasms, teeth bared, eyes wet and wild. I nearly lose it at that, but she softens just enough, loosening her grip and letting me roll her onto her back, so now she's under me, still joined, heels on my ass.
"Mine," I growl, this time not as a challenge but as the supplication of a dying man.
Her lips curve upward, and she threads her fingers through mine, pulling both our hands up over her head. Her body arches, pushing her hips up to milk every drop from me, and finally, I come, all the way to the edge of blacking out, gasping her name like a prayer, a scream, and a curse.
The world snaps back to center. The limo is a wreck of sweat, clothes, and broken glass. Oksana is sprawled beneath me, utterly spent, hair tangled across her face and neck marked by my mouth in a way that should embarrass a woman, but she’ll wear it with pride.
For a while, all either of us can do is lie there, breathing hard.
She pulls me down by the loosened necktie, her lips brushing my ear, and says, "I love you, Marito."
Her jade-green eyes are even darker than before; the black of her irises is pushing against them.
"I love you, Zhena, from here to eternity."
She smiles, "I like that."
We barely havetime to get our clothes back in order, check each other to make sure we're presentable, and down a glass of vodka from the mini freezer. I hate that stuff, but for her, I'd drink gasoline if it made her happy. The limo stops in the driveway of Raf’s home. The guards by the door recognize me, but frown at Oksana, who links her arm through mine. "I'm his wife. I'm allowed inside, boys."
She smiles at them. Amused, I watch Bruno, one of Marcello's lower-ranking soldiers, blanch. They might not know who she is, but the vibes she's giving out are unmistakably homicidal.
"Good evening, Mr. Conti. The others weren't expecting you," Igio, one of Toni's men, cautions.
