Page 78 of Tarnished Reign

ADRIANA

Dimitri is standing behind me, the dresser in front of me, the mirror showing me all of my naked self.

He’s fucking me, and I cling onto the wooden edge of the dresser as I half sob with the intensity of it. I’m already swollen and aching because he made me come with his mouth before he pushed me over the dresser and started fucking me from behind.

He reaches around my front and pinches my clit, and I’m going to come any minute.

“Eyes,” he orders, and I look at him in the mirror.

His gaze holds mine and it’s hard, focused, obsessed. He never breaks eye contact as with a wail, I come.

I press back into his cock and forward into his palm, and I don’t know which I need more.

He swears and comes too. He fills me with spurt after spurt, our gazes never breaking for even a moment.

As the waves of ecstasy lull to a calm, he pulls out of me, spins me around, sits me on the dresser, and kisses me hard. His hand is in my hair, and I reach around him, tangling my arms around his neck.

This is the third day we’ve been doing this. Three full days since he took my virginity, and we can’t seem to stop. This crazy, obsessed, insane thing we’re doing.

I need to talk to someone because I don’t know if this is normal. I get that when you first have sex with someone you like you want it a lot, but every waking moment? More than you want food, or water, or even damn air in your lungs?

I need Dimitri like I’m going to die without him touching me.

He seems to feel the same because he can’t keep his hands or eyes off me.

This particular round of fucking started when he was in the middle of a meeting with his men on deck, planning the party. I walked past him wearing one of the new dresses that was delivered by a woman named Janice. It wasn’t even a sexy dress, just a simple linen sheath. His gaze followed me, and then he called the meeting to a close, picked me up in front of everyone, and carried me in here.

His fingers dip between my folds, and he pushes some of his cum that’s leaked out back inside me.

He bends his head and sucks on a nipple. I moan and pull him closer. I love him sucking on my breasts.

He lets go with a wet pop, then lifts me from the dresser and moves me to the bed.

“What time is the party starting?” I ask.

I’m dreading it. Not because I’m scared of sitting on his knee anymore, but because I’m scared people will think I’m just his whore. The paid for girl he stole from Dorian and kept as his own.

“Am I your whore?” I ask.

He breaks off tracing a pattern over my hip as we lie on our sides facing one another.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” His features tighten.

“A genuine one. Dorian paid for me, and I’m here as your trophy. Tomorrow, you’ll sit me on your knee and show me off as the spoils of your war. That’s a whore.”

“No,” he says. “It’s not. I took you from my enemies, and now I’m preparing to fight a war for you. That makes you Helen of fucking Troy, not a whore.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” I say softly.

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You fucking are.”

He doesn’t clarify it with a to me statement.

“You haven’t been reading the books.” The change of topic has me pausing to catch up. “Don’t you like them?”

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