Standing, he guides me backward until the mattress presses against the backs of my thighs again.I sit because his hands urge me to.I lie back because the pressure of his palm on my sternum leaves no room for refusal.
“Are you ready for me?”
ChapterTwenty
Valentina
Without waiting for my answer, he shrugs off his jacket and tosses his tie aside.
Then he follows me onto the bed, bracketing my hips with his knees, trapping me with his weight and power.
He unbuttons his shirt, and it falls open, revealing the scarred, powerful chest I have only ever imagined in nightmares.
I fist the duvet to keep myself still.
With his knees, he spreads my thighs
Air kisses the slick folds of my pussy, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my promise of remaining silent.
“You’ll beg,” he reminds me.
I keep my lips sealed in defiance.
With a sensual chuckle, he settles his palm on my lower belly, heavy and warm, thumb stroking once just above where I ache.
The touch is possessive, not tender, and I hate it.
I know he feels every tremor, sees every flush, notices every conflicted thought racing through my head.
His touch sure, he parts my labia, his fingers gliding through the evidence of my unwanted arousal.
One of his thick fingers circles my clit with maddening patience.“Yield to me.”Determinedly he eases inside.
My inner walls flutter around the invasion.
He adds a second finger, stretching me, curling them just right.Pleasure coils tight and low.I fight it.I fight every wave that builds, every helpless roll of my hips that chases his hand.
He doesn’t rush.He watches my face while his fingers work me open, learning every sensitive spot, every rhythm that makes my breath catch.
When I try to close my thighs, his free hand pins one knee wide.
“No, no, princess.You’re going to let it happen.”He murmurs the words against my ear.“You’re allowed to feel good, Valentina.You’re allowed to want this.To want your husband.”
I shake my head, teeth clenched.“I don’t.”
“No?”The word is decidedly unconcerned.
He returns his thumb to my clit, pressing firm circles while his fingers stroke deep.
An orgasm crashes over me without warning, sudden and shattering, making me arch off the mattress.
A broken cry tears from my throat before I can stop it.
Wave after wave rolls through me, leaving me trembling, gasping, every muscle locked in helpless release.
He’s relentless.Rather than stopping, he rides me through it, fingers thrusting deeper, thumb relentless, until the pleasure edges toward pain and then back into pleasure again.
My second climax builds before the first has fully faded, cruel and inevitable.
