Page 34 of Till Death Saves Me

"Ivan," I moan, my voice barely recognizable. I'm begging, pleading for more. For him.

He captures my mouth with his, swallowing my cries. His tongue mirrors the movements of his hips, driving me wild with need. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper, urging him on.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs against my lips. "Taking me so well."

His words send a thrill through me. I've always been eager to please, but with Ivan, it's different. His approval ignites something primal within me, a desire to make him happy, to satisfy him.

It's so at odds with the years that we've spent fighting each other, but right now, I just want him to tell me how fucking perfect I am for him.

I always knew he was dark and dirty and depraved. But as he bites my skin and whispers in my ear, as he pins my wrists down and drives me into this mattress with a brutality that shouldn't hurt so fucking good, I realize that I want it. I want my husband to do depraved things to me over and over.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locked onto mine. The intensity in his gaze holds me captive, drawing me in. I'm drowning in him, consumed by his presence, his touch, his scent.

His pace quickens, each thrust more urgent than the last. He's hitting that spot over and over, building the pressure inside me. I can feel it coiling, tightening, ready to snap.

"Oh, fuck," he grinds out. "Your pussy so fucking tight. So fucking perfect. I knew I was going to become addicted to you."

My body tightens with every word. "Ivan," I moan, begging and pleading all with one word.

"Come with me, Virginia," he commands, his voice strained. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

His words push me over the edge. My body convulses, pleasure exploding through every nerve. I cry out his name, my voice echoing through the room. He groans, his body tensing as he finds his own release.

We ride out the waves together, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths ragged. It's intense, overwhelming, and perfect. I never want this moment to end. I never want to let him go.

And terror jolts through me at the thought. Because I think I'm starting to fall for him.

17

IVAN

Istare at my screen, but the words and numbers blur together. I'm supposed to be looking at all our upcoming shipments but my mind's not here. It's back home, with her. Virginia. My wife.

Fuck.

I rub my eyes, trying to focus. There's work to be done. Shipments to track, accounts to balance, threats to eliminate. But all I can think about is her smile. The way her eyes light up when she laughs. How perfectly she fit in my arms last night.

"Goddamnit," I mutter, slamming my laptop shut. This is getting out of hand.

I lean back in my chair, closing my eyes. Big mistake. Instantly, I'm back there. The softness of her skin under my fingers. The little gasp she made when I first entered her. The way she clung to me afterwards, like I was her lifeline.

I run a hand through my hair, frustration and desire warring inside me. Fuck, I can't stop thinking about her. Last night... Christ, it was beyond anything I could have imagined.

After that first time, I couldn't get enough. I took her again, slower this time, savoring every inch of her perfect body. Andthen once more, unable to resist when she looked at me with those big brown eyes, begging for more.

I had to force myself to stop. She was a virgin, for fuck's sake. I couldn't risk hurting her, no matter how much I wanted to keep going.

But goddamn, she felt perfect. Like she was made for me. The way she responded to my touch, the little sounds she made... It's like she knew exactly what I needed before I did.

I shift in my chair, uncomfortable with how hard I'm getting just thinking about her. This need for her is all-consuming. I knew I'd get addicted, but this... this is something else entirely.

She pushes me when I need it, challenges me in ways no one else dares. And then she turns around and pleases me in ways I never knew I wanted. I'm obsessed.

I check my watch. Still hours before I can go home to her. The thought of waiting that long is torture.

My phone buzzes. It's Lev, asking about the latest shipment. I should answer. I need to answer. Instead, I find myself pulling up the security feed from the house.

There she is, padding around the kitchen in one of my shirts. It barely covers her ass, and I feel a surge of possessiveness. Mine. She's humming to herself as she makes coffee, swaying slightly to some unheard rhythm.

---