I was faster. Snagged her wrists and pinned her to the mattress. I loomed over, eyes raking her slow—from flushed face to heaving chest, down to the see-through lace thong.
I spotted the damp patch in the middle.
Fuck.
She wanted this.
My dick went rock hard.
I leaned in closer, my breath hot against her ear, inhaling the faintfloral scent mixed with her nervous sweat. Her body trembled beneath me, that full, soft figure squirming just enough to drive me wild.
I released one wrist but kept the other pinned above her head, my free hand trailing down her side, fingers grazing the curve of her waist, dipping into the dip of her hip. She gasped, arching slightly, but I could tell she was fighting it—part scared, part turned on.
"Shh," I murmured, my voice rough from the vodka and the heat building in my veins. "You put this on knowing what it does to a man. Or did Olga force you? Either way, you're wearing it now."
Her eyes widened, those big, innocent ones that didn't match the sinful lace clinging to her curves. I smirked, sliding my hand lower, over the smooth expanse of her thigh, then back up, teasing the edge of the thin strap at her hip. She bit her lip harder, a soft whimper escaping, and I felt her legs tense, trying to close but failing under my weight.
I shifted, pressing my knee between her thighs, forcing them apart just enough. My fingers danced along the lace, brushing the damp fabric right at her core. She was soaked already—hot and ready, the wet spot spreading as I pressed lightly, feeling the heat radiate through the sheer material.
"Fuck, look at you," I growled, circling my thumb over her clit through the lace, slow and deliberate. Her hips bucked involuntarily, a sharp moan tearing from her throat.
"K-Kirill," she whispered, voice shaky, but she didn't pull away. If anything, her body leaned into my touch, betraying her.
I chuckled low, dark amusement mixing with the lust. I hooked a finger under the strap of her thong, tugging it aside just enough to expose her glistening folds. She was pink and swollen, slick with arousal, and the sight made my cock twitch painfully in my pants. I traced a finger along her slit, collecting her wetness, then pushed in slowly, one knuckle deep. She clenched around me instantly, tight and hot, her breath hitching.
"God, you're dripping," I muttered, adding a second finger, pumping them in and out with deliberate slowness, curlingto hit that spot inside her that made her gasp and writhe. Her free hand clutched at my shirt, nails digging in, as I worked her open, thumb still rubbing circles over her clit. Her hips rocked against my hand, chasing the friction, soft cries spilling from her lips.
I watched her face—eyes squeezed shut, cheeks flushed, lips parted in ecstasy. It was intoxicating, seeing this shy little thing come undone under my touch.
I leaned down, capturing one of her lace-covered nipples in my mouth, sucking hard through the fabric, teeth grazing the sensitive peak. She arched into me, moaning louder, her body trembling as I fingered her deeper, faster now, the wet sounds filling the room. My other hand roamed up, cupping her breast, squeezing the soft flesh, rolling the nipple between my fingers until it hardened even more.
She was close—I could feel it in the way her walls fluttered around my fingers, her breath coming in short, desperate pants. I pulled back from her breast, lips brushing her skin as I trailed kisses down her neck, nipping at her collarbone.
"Come for me," I commanded, voice husky, thrusting my fingers harder, grinding my palm against her clit.
Her body tensed, then shattered. She cried out, back arching off the bed, pussy clenching rhythmically around my digits as waves of pleasure crashed through her. I didn't stop, drawing it out, milking every tremor until she collapsed, panting and spent.
But I wasn't done. Far from it. I withdrew my fingers, slick with her juices, and brought them to her lips. "Taste yourself," I ordered, and when she hesitated, I smeared them across her mouth, watching her tongue dart out instinctively.
Good girl.
I sat back, shedding my shirt in one fluid motion, then unbuckled my belt, shoving my pants down. My cock sprang free, thick and veined, precum beading at the tip. Her eyes widened at the sight, a mix of fear and hunger in them. I positioned myself between her legs, rubbing the head against her soaked entrance, teasing her folds, coating myself in her wetness.
She whimpered, hips lifting toward me, needy despite the nerves. Igripped her thighs, spreading them wider, aligning myself perfectly. The tip nudged inside, just barely, and she gasped, hands fisting the sheets.
I paused there, savoring the moment, the heat of her enveloping me. Leaning down, I captured her gaze, my voice low and edged with that humiliating bite. "A wife I bought—means I get to use her however I damn well please."
Chapter Seven
Harper
I froze as Kirill's thick cock pressed against my entrance, the head barely breaching me, stretching that tight ring of muscle with a burn that was equal parts pain and intoxicating promise. His words hung in the air, that humiliating edge slicing through the haze of my arousal, making my cheeks burn even hotter.
But fuck, it only made me wetter—his dominance, the way he claimed me like property. I was his now, bought and paid for, and the twisted thrill of it had my pussy clenching around nothing, begging for more.
He didn't wait for a response. With a low growl, he thrust forward, burying himself inside me in one brutal stroke. I cried out, the sudden fullness overwhelming—his cock was huge, splitting me open, filling every inch until I felt like I might break. The stretch burned, sharp and unrelenting, and I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as my body tried to adjust.
Kirill stilled, buried to the hilt, his breath ragged against my neck. "Fuck," he muttered, pulling back just enough to look at me, surprise flickering in those cold eyes.
