Something in his face turns meaner.Hungrier.Like whatever leash he had on himself just burned through.
“Dangerous game, Beda,” he mutters, voice gone rough as gravel. “You want me feral.”
His control snaps.
He shoves me to the ground hard. The knife slips from my hand. Leaves and dirt bite into my skin. He’s on me in a second—hand back around my throat, the other ripping his belt open. The sound of his zipper is obscene in the quiet woods.
He forces between my legs, his knees driving them apart, denim scraping rough over my skin. He doesn’t ease in.
One hard thrust and he’s buried deep, the Jacob’s ladder dragging along every sensitive inch inside me. I cry out—sharp, raw pleasure-pain. The ridges catch, spark, make my vision white at the edges.
“Fuck—yes!”
He sets a brutal rhythm. No mercy. No gentleness. Just claiming.Owning.Each thrust slams me up, my back dragging along the leaves and dirt. My fingers dig into his shoulders, skirt bunched at my waist, torn panties dangling like a flag of surrender.
“Mine,” he growls, fingers tightening on my throat. “Say it.”
“Yours, fuck! Harder—”
He gives it to me. Harder. Deeper. The metal rungs drag and catch with every stroke, pushing me higher, faster. Sweat slicks our skin. Leaves stick to my back, my thighs.
My legs tighten around him. His free hand cracks across my thigh—sharp sting that makes me clench around him.
“Stay open,” he grunts.
I bite his forearm when he leans over me. Taste blood again. Drink him down.
He groans deep, guttural, as he loses the last thread of restraint.
He hooks one of my knees over his elbow, opens me wider, slams back in.
Fuck.
His eyes are wild. Sweat on his brow. The cut on his jaw still bleeding. He looks like a man possessed. Like he’s drowning in me and doesn’t want to surface.
He fucks me like he’s trying to crawl inside my skin.
“Bite me again,” he rasps, voice shredded, “and I’ll drag your ass home and chain you to the fucking bed.”
I laugh—ragged, breathless. “Promise?”
He snarls. “You’re a fucking problem, Beda.”
He slams in hard enough to punch the air from my lungs. Then pulls out so sharp I choke on my moan.
My body chases him on instinct, empty and aching, and his eyes catch it.
That look on his face—God.
Like he wants to eat me alive.
Chapter 47
Maksim
My blood on her lips. The way her cunt clenches around me and her pulse pounding against my thumb has my adrenaline coursing so hard that fucking her isn’t enough.
It will never be enough.
