Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
It wasn’t until I pulled down the cup of her bra, exposing her cute pink nipple and then covering it with my lips while I slid my fingers into her cunt, that her eyes opened with my name on her lips.
“Kostya,” she moaned, and I almost came apart for her right there.
CHAPTER 35
MARINA
Ashock of pleasure ripped through me, yanking me from the abyss of exhausted sleep with a gasp. My body trembled, caught between the lingering shadows of trauma and the ruthless, all-consuming need igniting in my veins.
It took a second for the fog to lift, for my mind to catch up to the raw sensation coursing through me.
Kostya was on top of me. His weight pressed me into the mattress, his body a tether to the present, keeping me from spiraling into the dark void that had almost swallowed us both.
His fingers were buried deep inside me, curling, stroking, owning, while his tongue flicked over my breasts, tracing each peak with torturous devotion.
A deep, low sound rumbled in his chest—half growl, half prayer—his need an echo of my own.
I was already lost before I fully woke up.
“Kostya,” I moaned, his name a confession, an exorcism of everything we had just endured.
The sharp press of his teeth against my nipple sent a shock wave through me, a firestorm of sensation that clashed with the phantom memories of blood and chaos.
I should stop this. I should say something—anything—but the words turned to ash on my tongue when he moved lower, his lips dragging a reverent path down my stomach, his breath hot and unrushed.
Every argument, every shred of logic, was obliterated by the way he worshipped me with his hands, his mouth, his hunger.
“Say it again, babygirl,” he commanded, his voice rough, almost feral. He bit down on the tender flesh just beneath my navel, making me cry out, a pulse of arousal shooting straight to my core.
“Say what?” My voice trembled, caught between pleasure and something far darker, something primal.
“My name.” His demand was a purr wrapped in steel, laced with possession, and when I moaned it again, he rewarded me with another finger, stretching me, claiming me.
My breath hitched as he withdrew, my body tightening around the loss, only to watch in hypnotic horror as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, his eyes locked onto mine the entire time.
“Sweet little thing,” he murmured, his voice raw with hunger. “You taste like you were made for me.”
I shivered in equal parts pleasure and fear.
Because in this moment, as I lay beneath him, trembling and lost, I wasn’t sure if he was worshiping me… or devouring me.
And worse?
I didn’t care.
Kostya was trying to kill me.
Not with violence, not with brutality, no, with something far more devastating.
He was burning me from the inside out, stoking the fire of my pleasure until I was nothing but smoke and ash, consumed in his hunger, drowning in the heat of his mouth, his fingers, his body.
“You are so fucking sweet,” he growled against my slick skin, his breath hot, his words raw with possession. And then he shoved all three fingers back inside me, stretching me, claiming me. “I could spend the rest of my fucking life eating this perfect pussy.”
A broken moan tore from my throat as my back arched, my thighs parting wider for him in blind surrender.
I was powerless against him, against the relentless thrust of his fingers, against the way his mouth latched onto my clit and sucked with ruthless intent. My body was undone, splintering apart under the sheer force of sensation.
He didn’t just touch me, he commanded me. Owned me.
I wasn’t sure if I was chanting his name as a prayer or a plea, but I couldn’t stop. His name was all I knew, all I could hold onto while he shattered me over and over again.
I had thought I understood pleasure. Thought I knew what desire felt like, what it meant to crave. I had read the books, imagined the dark, filthy things a man could do to a woman, but none of it compared to this.
Not a single fantasy, not a single secret midnight read could prepare me for what it meant to be at the mercy of a man like Kostya.
Even the dirtiest, most depraved men crafted by women who understood the hidden hungers we buried deep inside ourselves. None of them could touch him. None of them could ever be him.
I tried to pull away. Tried to retreat from the pleasure that had tipped over into something too sharp, too overwhelming.
He didn’t let me.
His fingers withdrew, but before I could catch my breath, his tongue replaced them, plunging deep inside me.
It was too much. My thighs shook, my body spasmed, every nerve raw and frayed. I tried to move, but his grip was unrelenting, fingers digging into the tender flesh of my thigh, holding me open for him.