The only satisfaction I had was knowing his expensive trousers were ruined.
While I continued to urinate he grabbed the metal poles and began to swing his hips. This time there was no resistance left in me. I accepted every deep, filthy stroke. I ignored what my brain was screaming at me.
This was wrong.
But it had been so long since I’d felt him there. The feel of him opening me up as he drove deeper—the stretch of it, the fullness, the particular obscenity of being used this thoroughly in this room.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned.“I could fuck your ass for the next nine months.”
I closed my eyes against his words.
I couldn’t move even if I tried. Being held like this—pinned, spread, entirely his to use—wasn’t something I had expected to enjoy. Yet here I was.
“You love me fucking this tight little ass, don’t you?” he asked, ramming into me hard enough that his balls slapped against my cheeks and the air left my lungs entirely.
I gasped as he pulled back and repeated it.
Long, deep strokes. Each one more brutal than the last.
I opened my eyes.
Sergei lay dying on the cold basement floor. We were alive. Runa was safe upstairs.
I nodded.
Because I loved this insanity. Whatever it was.
“Stick it in my ass,” I growled, pushing myself open as he plunged in.“Harder.”
The taunt hit its mark.
His eyes darkened.
The devil emerged.
“Come in my asshole,” I said, with a smirk designed to finish him.“Give me every last drop, moy muzh.”
His jaw clenched—the muscle beneath visible, teeth ground together.
“My dirty littlesuka,” he spat, each word pushed out through clenched teeth.
His pace slowed. Deliberately. Methodically. He began to pull out completely before plunging back—all the way out, muscles relaxing, the sudden emptiness of it, then the heavy stretch of him forcing me open again. I groaned and cried at the change in sensation each time he withdrew and returned.
“You don’t tell me how to fuck this hole,” he drawled.
Blyad.
This may have backfired on me.
But he was the one standing there will my piss all over his clothes. I was also roaming free and not locked up in his basement.
“My apologies, Vadim,” I said with the utmost sincerity.
I may have sacrificed my ass for it, but it was worth every stroke to watch him lose control. I wished I had accounted for his stamina—he had already come once and showed no signs of being finished.
His hair fell over his forehead. I watched it move as he threw his full weight into each thrust, his cock driving deep with a dull bloom of pain that registered and faded and registered again. I kept myself open for him.
“Let me feel your hot come in there, Vadim,” I panted between strokes, holding his pale blue eyes with mine.
