“I know,” I whisper, rolling my hips, grinding my clit against his base. “Watch me.”
He watches. His stare burns into me, hands guiding but letting me set the pace. “Ride me how you need it,” he says, voice low. “No noise.”
“Try telling my body that.” I lean forward, lips brushing his. “Quiet me.”
He kisses me, swallowing the soft sounds as I build my rhythm, lifting and dropping, the slap of skin filling the room. He’s breathing harder now, thumbs teasing my nipples, rolling them until I break the kiss with a gasp. “Sergei,” I pant. “I can’t?—”
“You can.” He grips my shoulders, pushing me upright, holding me down while he thrusts up, taking control. My third orgasm explodes like lightning, and I collapse over him again, face buried in his neck, muscles shaking as my walls clamp around him.
He wraps me in his arms, rocking us gently. “Love watching you shatter quietly,” he murmurs against my ear. “Our secret.” He rolls us seamlessly, spooning me, sliding back in from behind. His hand cups my breast, thumb brushing lazy circles over mynipple while the other drifts down to circle my clit. He thrusts slow and deep, intimacy winding tight between us. “Feel that?” he whispers against my nape. “I’m buried so deep you’ll feel me for days.”
“Yes,” I breathe, pushing back into him. “Right there.”
“Good girl.” His pace quickens, still controlled but urgent. He grinds at the perfect angle until I’m trembling again, hips jerking out of sync. He pulls out suddenly, flips me onto my stomach, lifts my hips. His palm comes down on my ass with a sharp crack. “Count.”
“Sergei—”
“Count.” His thrust drives the word from my lungs.
“One,” I gasp into the pillow. He slams in again.
“Two.”
“Louder,” he growls, hand sliding up my spine to press me down.
“Three.” My voice shakes.
He spanks me again. “Don’t lose track.”
“Four.” He circles my clit. “Fuck. Five.” The pleasure spikes sharp as glass.
“Keep going,” he urges, pace vicious.
“Six.” My voice fractures. “Seven.” I bite the pillow. “Eight.” My whole body tenses. “Nine.” The orgasm hits like a flash flood, tearing everything loose. I scream into the silk, muffled. My cunt spasms around him wildly. He groans, stills, fighting for control. “Ten,” I whisper, hoarse.
“Good,” he rasps, pulling out carefully. His cock throbs, head flushed angry red. “Window.”
I shuffle to the edge of the bed, bracing my hands on the glass while the city sprawls indifferently below. He slams into me from behind, grabbing my hair and forcing my gaze to our reflection. “Look,” he orders. “See what we look like when I’m balls-deep, ruining you.” His free hand comes around, fingers rubbing my clit in tight, ruthless circles. “Watch,kotyonok.”
“I am,” I pant, eyes glued to the mirror. “It’s obscene.”
“It’s perfect.” He yanks my head back, kisses the curve of my throat, thrusts until I’m seeing stars. I clamp a hand over my mouth to trap the sob tearing free. He fucks through every pulse, sweat slicking our skin.
He shifts again, lifting me effortlessly so my back slams against his chest, legs spread wide as he hooks his hands under my thighs. We face the mirror now, reflection tinted gold. His cock pistons in and out of me while my toes barely touch the floor. “See how this pretty cunt swallows me?” he rasps in my ear. “Look at those tits, bouncing for me. Look at your face.”
“I can’t,” I choke.
“You will.” His fingers pinch my nipple. “Take every inch.”
“Sergei,” I gasp, shaking. Another orgasm surges through me, and he holds me through it, eyes locked on the mirror.
Finally he backs me toward the cold glass, hands gripping my ass as he lifts me again, legs wrapping his waist. The skyline spreads wide beneath us. He slams in, fucking with ruthless intent now. “Almost there,” he grits out.
“Come inside me,” I plead, voice a desperate whisper. “Please.”
“Quiet,” he warns, but he’s right there. I bear down, milking him with everything I have. The last orgasm erupts, dragging a silent scream from my throat. He buries his face in my neck, muffling his groan as he spills hot inside me, pulse after pulse.
A few minutes later, Sergei rolls onto his back with a soft grunt, breath still uneven, but the hunger in his eyes has eased to something gentler. I curl against his chest, cheek pressed to the faint sheen of sweat cooling across his skin. His heartbeat thumps solid and steady under my ear, anchoring me. He exhales slowly, arms slinging around me, one hand stroking the curve of my spine in lazy, unhurried motions.
