Don’t feel anything.
But his touch, his mouth, the way he’s looking at me like I’m more than a contract—it’s too fucking much.
Fuck. I want him, not just his cock, and that scares the shit out of me. Irina, Julian, Lila, Friday—they flicker in my mind, but my body’s screaming louder, begging to be his, to let go, to burn.
I tug at his T-shirt, yanking it off to reveal scars and muscle that make my mouth water.
“You’re gonna ruin me,” I pant, my nails scraping his shoulders as I rock against him, the friction driving me wild.
“Good,” he says, grinning, and flips us, pinning me beneath him. His weight is perfect, his hips settling between my thighs as he kisses my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
“You like this,” he says, voice dark and filthy. “My mouth on you. My hands. Say it.”
“Fucking prick,” I mutter, but I’m smiling, my body arching as he strips my shirt off, tossing it to the floor. His mouth finds my breast, tongue swirling, and I’m gasping, my thighs squeezing his hips.
“Yeah, I fucking love it,” I admit, voice breaking. “Now do something about it.”
He laughs, low and rough, and kisses down my stomach, my hips, until his fingers hook into my panties and pull them off. His mouth is on my pussy, hot and relentless, licking and sucking my clit until I’m shaking, my thighs clamping around his head.
“Konstantin,” I moan, my fingers in his hair, pulling hard. “You’re too fucking good at this.”
He groans, the vibration pushing me closer.
“You taste like fucking heaven,” he says, and I come, screaming his name as pleasure rips through me, my body shuddering under his tongue.
He’s back up, kissing me, letting me taste myself, and I tug at his sweatpants, freeing his cock—thick, hard, fucking perfect.
I stroke him, loving his groan, his forehead pressing against mine.
“Slow,” he says, voice strained. “I want to feel every fucking inch of you.”
His words ignite me, and as he positions himself, his cock brushing my entrance, I lock eyes with him, his gaze burning into mine. The world narrows to just us, the heat of his body, the weight of this moment.
“Yes, please fuck me,” I beg, my voice raw, desperate, a plea that spills from somewhere deep. Our eyes stay fused, his darkening with a hunger that makes my pussy clench, and he slides inside me, slow and deep, filling me completely.
I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders, and he stills, eyes locked on mine, letting me adjust.
“So fucking tight,” he murmurs, and it’s not just dirty—it’s like I’m more than he expected. We move, deep and steady, every thrust pulling moans from my throat, every kiss stealing my breath. My head’s screaming:Don’t do it. Don’t feel anything.But his hands, his mouth, the way he’s claiming me—it’s tearing me apart. I want to be his, even if it’s just for tonight, and that thought alone could break me.
“Fuck, Bella,” he says, his hands gripping my hips as he thrusts harder. “You’re mine right now.”
I laugh, breathless, because it’s so him—possessive, intense, but there’s a warmth I didn’t expect.
“Keep dreaming, mob boss,” I tease, but my voice cracks, and I’m clinging to him, my pussy tightening around him. “Where’s my green dildo, by the way? You confiscated it?”
He freezes mid-thrust, then laughs, a real laugh that shakes his chest and makes my heart flip.
“Fuck that plastic shit,” he says, grinning. “No dildo. Just my cock, my fingers, my tongue. That’s all I want inside your perfect fucking pussy.”
Heat floods me, his words hitting something primal.
“Possessive bastard,” I say, but I’m laughing, loving how he wants me, only me. “Say it again.”
“You’re mine,” he growls, thrusting deeper, his voice raw. “My cock inside you, my hands on you, my fucking everything.”
I shatter, screaming as I come, my pussy clenching around him, and he follows, spilling inside me with a groan that feels like he’s giving me something real.
We collapse, tangled and sweaty, his arms around me, my head on his chest. His heartbeat thuds under my ear, steady and grounding, and for a moment, I let myself sink into it, my body sated, my mind quiet.
