“Spread nice and wide,” he said before he pulled back.
I gasped for air as he moved off my chest.
“But I can’t come in your mouth. Not yet,” he murmured, hooking my legs over his arms.
I held my throat as he lined himself up. A long guttural moan left me when he sank into me.
“There you go, wife. Nice and wet from a good throat fucking,” he taunted.
“I hate you,” I croaked.
“Good,” he snapped, and then he was moving—dragging my legs with him, folding me in half beneath him.
“You’ll still take me, won’t you?” he said, driving deeper before pulling back and plunging in again.
His chest scraped along my sensitive skin, brushing my nipples until I nearly grabbed his shoulders to pull him closer. My feet began to bounce as he picked up his pace. Even through the hate I needed this—the heavy stretch of him working my insides, filling me completely.
He buried his face in my neck. Hot lips moved over my skin, then his tongue, his breath coming hard through the thrusts. When he began to suck on my flesh I hissed in pain and clutched his shoulders, my nails digging in. I wanted him to feel something too.
The sounds of him fucking the air out of my lungs filled the room—the slap of flesh against flesh, the dull rhythmic thud of his balls swinging up to meet my pussy with each drive forward. I clenched around him.
He growled against my throat. His teeth bit into my neck and just like that I came—on his cock, hips jutting up to meet him, proving him right without meaning to.
In that moment I didn’t care.
All that mattered were the crashing waves of pleasure that took hold and wouldn’t let go.
“Da,” he growled.“Take it all.”
And I did.
Every last drop of him.
Just as I had agreed to.
Chapter 13
Vadim
I stared at the mark on her neck.
Dark red, ugly, already beginning to deepen at the edges where my mouth had worked hardest. The bruising would last for days. My teeth had never broken the skin—that was deliberate—but the mark was visible and it would remain visible, and everyone in this house would read it correctly.
Fucked and claimed.
She had been walking the garden perimeter every day with herbyki. My men knew better—knew what happened to men who forgot their place—but a woman like this, left to wander and make herself known, had a way of finding the weakest point in any room. A precaution was not the same as distrust. It was arithmetic.
My cock was still buried deep inside her, angled to hold every drop of my seed as close to her cervix as possible. I had no intention of moving until I was satisfied the work was done. When I glanced up her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling in the space between us, her lashes still wet at the corners. Her hatred was no concern of mine. Hatred and compliance were not mutually exclusive—she had demonstrated that thoroughly enough tonight.
I released her legs and pushed her breasts together, dragging my tongue across the damp skin, tasting salt and the faint remnant of her body wash beneath it. The flesh was warm and slightly flushed and yielded exactly as it should.
She whimpered.
The sound moved through me with more effect than I intended to acknowledge.
“Hate all you want, Iskra,” I said, moving back to her neck to drag my tongue across my mark.“Your womb is mine to breed as much as I deem fit.”
I rested my hand on her belly.
