When he finally enters me, there’s pain, not because he’s rough, but because I’m tense and overwhelmed.
I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders, and for just a moment, he stills.
His forehead drops to mine, and I can feel his harsh, uneven breath against my lips.
For one brief second, there’s something in his eyes that isn’t cold but then it’s gone, buried under ice again.
He moves, slowly at first, giving my body time to adjust to the intrusion.
The pain fades, replaced by something else.
Something that builds with each deliberate thrust.
His hands are everywhere—one gripping my hip hard enough to bruise, the other sliding up my side, cupping my breast, threading into my hair.
With Alexei, it had been gentle and sweet. He’d made love to me and gave me soft touches. Whispered endearments.Slow, careful movements designed to bring pleasure without overwhelming.
Dimitri doesn’t make love. He possesses. Claims. Takes.
And for reasons I cannot explain, my body responds.
When he picks up the pace, his movements becoming harder, more demanding, I hear myself making sounds I’ve never made before. Desperate, needy sounds that should humiliate me but somehow don’t. My legs wrap around his waist without conscious thought, pulling him deeper, and he groans—actuallygroans—against my throat.
His mouth finds the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin there, and I arch up into him helplessly.
My hands slide down his back, feeling those powerful muscles bunch and flex with each movement, feeling the raised edges of more scars I can’t see.
Evidence of violence. Of survival. Of a life so different from mine I can’t even imagine it.
“Look at me,” he growls against my neck, and it’s not a request. It’s a command that brooks no refusal.
I force my eyes open and meet that gray gaze, and what I see there steals my breath.
Intensity. Raw, overwhelming intensity. His pupils are blown wide, his jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscle jumping, that careful control fracturing at the edges.
He’s losing himself in this just as much as I am, even if he’d never admit it. Even if he hates that it’s happening.
“You feel—” He cuts himself off, jaw working like the words are being torn from him against his will. His hand slides between our joined bodies, pressing his thumb against my clit exactly where I need it. My whole body shakes as more pleasure shoots through me. “Say my name,” he growls. “Say who you belong to.”
“Dimitri,” I gasp, and the sound of his name on my lips seems to snap something in him.
His movements become almost desperate, his control slipping further with each thrust. One hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back so he can claim my mouth in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and possession.
The other hand grips my thigh, pulling my leg higher around his waist, changing the angle until I’m seeing stars.
The pleasure builds to an unbearable peak. I’m trembling, gasping his name over and over, clinging to those broad shoulders like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s spinning out of control.
My body is wound so tight I think I might shatter, every nerve ending on fire, and when his thumb presses against my clit again with just the right pressure?—
I break.
The orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, intense and overwhelming and nothing like anything I’ve ever felt before.
With Alexei, pleasure had been sweet, building slowly and cresting softly like a warm wave lapping at the shore.
This is violent and consuming. It tears through me with the force of a storm, making me cry out—his name, yes, but the sound is raw and desperate.
I feel Dimitri’s rhythm falter, feel his whole body go rigid above me, every muscle locked tight.
