Page 98 of Little Blue

This isn’t soft and slow. It’s quick and primal. His hand tugs at my hair as his other holds my jaw now, his tongue fucking my mouth just as he fucks my pussy.

The snow-covered earth at my back is unrelenting as Ilya pounds into me. His hand moves down over my chest to palm my breast, his lips hot on my throat. The sharp sting of his teeth grazing soft skin the prelude to his wandering hand finding the pearl between my legs. He circles my clit with his thumb as he thrusts deep into me, kissing a searing path back to my lips.

His thrusts take on a violence that rocks my body, but the hand he tangled in my hair pins me in place. Sensation floods every inch of me. Heat bubbles and boils beneath my skin until I feel as though it’ll melt me from the inside. Pleasure on the edge threatens to rip me apart at the seams as he fucks me closer and closer to oblivion.

My body inches up the jacket as he pounds relentlessly into me, but the hand in my hair anchors me violently in place until my neck is arched back, his face in the hollow. Sparks fly inside my core, threatening an eruption as he circles my clit once more with his thumb, before he pinches the bud between thumb and finger, rocketing me over the edge.

Eyes burning wide on the dark blanket of sky that yawns over us, stars wink as my orgasm crashes violently through me. Wave after wave crash inside my core as Ilya pulls every drop of pleasure from within me, calling it to the surface as though it’s anchored to a thread he commands. As the final waves crash through me, Ilya’s thrusts become quicker and more erratic. Restrained grunts of pained pleasure escape the vault of him as he buries choppy breaths into my throat. With one last violent thrust, he buries himself deep inside me. So deep, I can’t help but cry out in the same moment he releases a deep groan of pleasure as hot ribbons of release fill me.

We stay like that, a tangle of limbs wrapped in pleasure, blanketed beneath a cold, starry night. It’s Christmas Eve in America, a night intended for saintly recollections, and I’ve just given my innocence to a devil of a man.

I want to cry and laugh all at the same time. Instead, I lay still in the aftermath of this wicked claiming, lost in the shock that is my suddenly, eternally bound heart. And my soul—my soul is defeated—forever ensnared by the sticky web of his own.

I’m not sure how long we lay like that, before Ilya’s fingers loosen in my hair. Then, with his hands on either side of my head, he pushes up. The loss of him from inside my body is jarring and a little painful. I feel terribly exposed by him as he gazes down at the mess of us. I would close my legs, but he’s still kneeling between them, forcing them apart.

His eyes drop. I watch as his impossibly hard jaw hardens.

Anger flashes in his eyes and my heart flutters in warning. Slowly, breath lodged in my lungs, I let my eyes drift down with his. My breath hitches at what I see. His still mostly hard cock, all velvety skin and thick, protruding veins, is coated in ribbons of milky white and red that shimmers under the white moonlight.

The evidence of my virginity, right there for us both to see.

Ilya grips his thick cock in his big fist roughly, angrily, before he shoves it into his pants.

He pulls me up, standing me in the snow before he shakes out my jacket with a violence that truly terrifies me. He’s a coiled beast of a man. Rage, I do not understand, crackles under the surface of his skin. It bleeds into the cold night air, threatening to scald me.

I flinch when he steps closer, and that rage only flares hotter. Dipping my face, I try not to cry as I stare at the snow. Ilya throws my jacket over my shoulders, and then he shoves my arms into it like I’m a child incapable of the task. I don’t fight him. My mind whirls with confusion as I replay everything we did. All that I felt.

Why is he so upset?

With my jacket on, he lifts me into his arms bridal style, and begins his march back to the house. Beside us, Maleficent trots close.

My control over my emotions shatters as a hot tear sears my cheek. My body must shake, or maybe I’ve gasped in sharp air, because Ilya glances harshly down at me only to let a dark sound of anger bubble up from the depths of his chest at the sight of my tears.

We break through the trees, and I see the men we left waiting outside. My face flares impossibly hot before I twist in Ilya’s arms to bury it into his hard chest. I can’t look at the men now. I can’t meet their eyes, knowing that they know what we did.

Surely, they heard us.

Regret, like nothing I’ve ever felt in my life, floods my breaking heart, drowning the organ in the sorrows of a splintered soul.

Forty

Irelynn

My gown lays in a pool of blue satin on the dark tile of Ilya’s bathroom floor as he sets the temperature of the shower. My shoulders still shake with sobs I can’t seem to kill. Inside, I hurt. Everywhere.

I ache in places I wasn’t even aware of before now.

Ilya has yet to speak a word to me. He passed his men, barking an order to secure the property, before he charged into the house, up the stairs, and straight into his bathroom. He set me on the floor, stripping me of my gown as I shook like a brittle leaf in an icy wind. As he pulled the material down the length of my body, kneeling on the floor, his eyes level with my thighs, the rage that overtook him in the forest only intensifies.

Now, as I sneak a peek in the mirror, I see what’s angered him so deeply.

The same milky white and red that had ribboned his cock stains my thighs.

Shame and regret nip at my insides. Again, I cast my eyes away from the evidence of my very bad, very foolish decision.

“Get in.” I flinch at the low sound of Ilya’s command, and step into the shower.

Under the hot spray, my skin tingles painfully. I realize then just how cold I’d been, and that I’m shivering even now. As the warmth of the water slowly seeps into my bones, a little of the tension in my aching muscles begins to loosen. Until the glass door opens and Ilya’s naked, imposing body steps inside.

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