Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
His hand disappears from between my legs, and before I can mourn the loss, he unbuckles his belt, and I feel his erection brush against my backside.
A shudder goes through me when his cock nudges against my ass cheek. Once, twice.
The pleasure that I thought would finally dim rises and grows.
I gasp. “Kirill…”
“I’m so tempted to stuff my cock into this hole.” He pushes his huge cock against my ass again. “I’d fuck you until you realize that every part of you belongs to me. Not anyone else. Me. This is my ass, my property. Fucking mine.”
My hand finds his thigh, and I try to push at him, but he imprisons my wrists behind my back and uses both his hands to wrap his thick leather belt around them. I’m completely immobile, and I couldn’t move if I wanted to. Then his fingers go back to my throat.
“But tonight…” He slides his cock between my legs. “I’ll start with my pussy.”
He thrusts inside, and I gasp as pain explodes all over my core. Kirill is just too huge, and despite the orgasm I just had, it hurts to have all of him in me.
“You’re so tight. Mmm. So fucking right.” His grunts fill my ears, and even though it hurts, I try to fall into the rhythm.
I don’t have to try for long.
After a few thrusts, pleasure starts to war with the pain, and my moans echo in the air. Kirill uses his hold on my neck to make me look in the mirror.
I’m startled by the sight in front of me. He looks larger than life behind me and no different than a beast who’s devouring me alive. My skin is sweaty, flushed, and molded to his rhythm.
With his hand around my throat and my wrists bound, I’m completely at his mercy.
“Look at who owns you, Solnyshko. Look at how your body submits to me as if it was made for me. You are mine, and you will always be fucking mine. You’ll never belong to anyone else but me.”
The dark possessiveness in his words should scare me, and it does to an extent, but I can’t think straight with him pounding me to within an inch of my life.
His rhythm is as intense as he is. He fucks with his usual control, but sometimes, he goes so fast and so hard that even he can’t control it. His glasses fog up from sweat and exertion, and he throws them aside and then ramps up the intensity.
My breasts bounce and ache from the arousal, and my hips hit the marble counter a few times. The sting of pain adds to the savage pleasure building in my core.
All of a sudden, he tightens his grip on my throat and cuts off my oxygen.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t…
Just when I think I’m going to die, I come.
And then air and ecstasy rush through me all at once. I start to fall over, but Kirill pushes me down against the counter. The shock of cold hits my heated skin, and my hard nipples scrape against the marble.
But those bursts of discomfort are forgotten when he grips me by the back of my neck and fucks me through my orgasm. He goes deeper, pulls out, then drives back in again and again.
Then he rams into me with the lethality of an animal. He is an animal.
A monster who can’t get enough.
Not even when I start crying from how intense it gets. Not even when I think I’ll actually pass out.
Kirill doesn’t stop or slow down, and he certainly doesn’t finish. He fucks me on and on, until pleasure begins to blend with pain. Until I don’t know if I ever want him to stop.
The way he takes what he wants and uses me for his own pleasure makes my thighs messy and sticky with arousal. Another orgasm builds in my core and spreads all over my body.
That’s when Kirill growls, pounds harder for a few strokes, and then warmth fills my insides.
He pulls me up by my throat so that my back is glued to his clothed chest. His hot breaths fill my ear before he growls, “Mine.”
A frightening shudder goes through me when I realize that he means that and will probably stop at nothing to really make me his.
30
KIRILL
The moment I open my eyes, I realize two things.
One, I fell asleep.
Ever since my father started his torture sessions, my type of sleep has been only resting my eyes. I’m always fully aware of my surroundings and ready to spring into action at any moment.
I haven’t had a deep night's sleep in…maybe twenty years or so, to the point that I’ve forgotten what it feels like. The army made my sleeping habits even more erratic. What’s the point of resting my eyes when I could be using that time to do something constructive?