Page 125 of Little Blue

“Fuck.” The muscles in his chest and abs bunch. His jaw clenches hard enough to crack teeth.

I hide my grin behind another long lick across his tip. Then I take the whole of him into my mouth.

The sound he makes is enough to make me cum right there. Squeezing my thighs together, I roll my hips just enough to relieve the pressure.

I bob my head, taking him to the back of my throat and swallowing around him. Sharp hisses, ‘Holy fucks, and reluctant groans fall from his lips.

Just when I feel he’s there—close—I pull away.

Folding my hands into my lap as I stare up at the wildness in my man’s eyes, the hunger in every line of his face, the dark desperation to possess in every way—I know I’ve done exactly what I set out to do.

“I don’t want what you’ve been giving me, Ilya.” He frowns, quick fear striking like lightning through his desire. “I want the man who made me come undone in his bed, beneath him, despite my protests. I want the man who chased me in the forest. The man who fucked me raw in the snow. I want the man who loves me to obsession. Who takes what he needs from me when he needs it.” I lift my chin, daring him with my gaze. “I don’t want this pretty package you’re trying to wear. I know who you are. I know every dark and depraved part of you, and I fell in love with you for it. I won’t do this with you, Ilya. If I’m not getting the real, dark, beautiful, ominous, obsessed you—then I don’t want any of it.”

“You want me to take what I want?” Gravel hardens his tone.

I shiver with awareness.

“I want you to take what you want from me. I want you to give me what you know I need.”

The growl he lets loose is entirely feral. The grip he has on the base of his cock is nothing compared to the way he yanks my clip free from my hair, fisting the strands.

“What I need from you right now is your mouth around my dick.” He shoves the tip to my lips until I open for him, a moan snagged in the deep of my throat that the tip of his dick hits as he shoves balls deep.

I gag around him, my throat convulsing as my eyes water. The veins that travel south in his abdomen are swollen—and so damn hot.

The man is the definition of power. I want nothing more than to be overpowered by him.

He pulls his cock free. I gasp in a sharp breath he cuts off with yet another decadent assault. He does this again and again until the pressure between my legs is fire. It’s so intense, I’m rolling my hips desperately, seeking some form of release. Anything.

I don’t know that I’ve ever been this turned on.

I don’t know that I’ve ever been aware of how empty I am. How my body was designed, crafted with intent, to be filled by his.

Not having him inside me is torture.

He releases my hair to grip both sides of my head. And then he bucks into my mouth, fucking my face. There’s nothing held back from this moment. It’s aggressive and dirty and addictive. He slides over my tongue, hitting the back of my throat, grunting like an animal as he thrusts between my lips.

Flames erupt in my core, spreading over my flesh.

He jerks inside my mouth, a salty stream of precum hitting the back of my throat before he rips his cock from my mouth. I swallow, licking my lips as his eyes pull me into the inferno of him.

The veins in his arms and on his fist are all raised. His blood is pumping hard, his breath harder, and I just know his heart pumps hardest of all.

I grin.

He curses in Russian. “You want me, all of me? The darkness? The vile?” He grips his cock in an angry fist, the head a vicious, angry purple.

“I want the monster, Ilya. I want you.” I start to stand, but he growls.

“On your knees. I’m going to cover your pretty tits in my cum, and you’re going to look up at me with those sad blue eyes as I mark you. Every fucking inch of you.”

I don’t move. I can’t. I’m locked in place by arousal that feels like it might rip me apart from the core.

He begins to pump his angry cock, the motions brutal. It doesn’t take long before ribbons of white fall hot against my chest. I hold his eyes through it all, until he’s spent the last drop.

I think we’re done, that I’ve made my point, when he grips me by my upper arms to lift me onto my feet. He turns me harshly to face the wall. My hands slap out to catch myself against the tile, my breaths tumbling fast into the steam now.

“You think I’m done with you?” He laughs a husky, dangerous laugh. His hand falls to grip my hip, his other pressing between my shoulder blades until the side of my face is pressed to the wall.

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