Page 54 of Trapping His Darling

I wanted to say no, but our time together had been nothing but sex and pain. So I nodded and batted my lashes.

He smiled. “Eyes stay with mine,” he murmured, and guided his cock into my mouth.

The underside of his shaft glided along the top of my tongue as he slowly delved into the warmth. My shoulders heaved as he slipped into my throat, but there was not much I could do when he held my head. My eyes watered as my gag reflex choked his cockhead. He moaned in appreciation and withdrew. Drool spilled from my lips as he pulled out, dribbling down my chin and onto my breasts.

I only had a second to breathe before his hard cock was slipping into my mouth again, repeating the punishment and going deep enough to cause my stomach to retch, and my glands to salivate. I coughed around his shaft, but he did not let up. Rather, he went deeper, until all I knew was Viktor’s eyes and the taste of his dick.

Before I could suffocate, he pulled back, and held onto my head as he slowly started fucking my face. Our eyes never wavered from each other, even when he tipped my head for more leverage and his hips thrust in earnest.

I could only imagine how obscene it must have looked to the staff, as he moved faster and faster, groaning above me, the sound of wet smacking skin loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“So. Fucking. Good,” he growled and slid deep down my throat.

There he stayed.

Tears had filled my eyes. I couldn’t breathe. I moaned for mercy, but knew better than to push him away.

“Finger yourself,” he ordered. “We will come together.”

Growing dizzy, my fingers slid down my stomach to the apex between my thighs. My thumb flicked my clit as my fingers delved into my pussy. I was so fucking wet.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasped as he withdrew only enough to slam back into my throat. “Now fucking come.”

As if my body knew he was my master, I did just that. Viktor pulled out of my mouth to come all over my face, and I rode my fingers to a glorious orgasm that had me crying out like a porn star.

I knew I should be ashamed for being such a whore for him, for fucking myself on the floor of his dining room while his staff watched, but I was addicted. I loved that his cum was coating my lips and chin, and dripping down onto my naked breasts and stomach.

Gasping and trembling, Viktor wrenched me up, grasped my hips, and lifted me onto the table, forcing me to sit on my plate of food.

Candles tipped when he violently pushed me back and forced me to spread my legs extra wide, like the dining table was a gynecologist’s chair. He then swiped his fingertips across my skin to collect the clumps of semen off my torso, before he proceeded to fingerfuck me with his cum.

Again, I shamelessly wailed my pleasure, hiding nothing from view, coming so hard I was surely spilling out onto thefloor, like the wine glasses that tipped over and rolled about. He drew orgasm after orgasm from my body, until I begged him to stop.

But even then, he didn’t.

Like a conductor at a symphony, Viktor played on. He continued fingerfucking me with one hand, while his free hand grasped my breasts and pulled on the nipples, adding a bite of pain to the waves of pleasure.

Meanwhile, I literally sobbed from the experience, so weak from the strain on my body, that I could do nothing but cream myself and cry pitifully. If one were to hear my screams, they might think he was murdering me.

Finally, he rolled me onto my side so I could curl up in a fetal position on the table, then removed his hand from my pussy. He walked away from me to address the waiting servants.

Pop. pop. pop.

Three bodies hit the floor.

I lifted my head.

Viktor holstered his gun. “They were never going to leave here alive. I would never let a man see what is mine only and live.”

“Really?” I squeaked, my heart near bursting

“Yes, really.” He returned to the table. “They were destined to die. Spies for my godfather. But know that even if they had been innocent men, they would have met their demise. You belong to me. Your body belongs to me. Your pleasure belongs to me. I do not share.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Tiffany

Tonight I would meetViktor’s formidable father, the dreadedPakhanof the Bratva, but I wasn’t one to leave things entirely to chance. My fingers worked deftly amidst an array of glass vials, plants, and rare books that covered a corner table.

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