Page 97 of Untamed

He snorts. “Me, obviously.”

I open my mouth to protest when his mouth crushes mine. He tastes like victory and danger, and I’m fucking here for it. He swallows my moan as his hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise. I straddle him, gasping against his mouth, but he doesn’t let me go.

I don’t want him to. “Don’t hold back,” he growls, dragging his lips like a brand down the side of my neck before he bites hard enough to make me jolt. “We’re alone now. Let yourself go.” He traps my hands in one of his much bigger ones and whispers in my ear. “Let go, little queen. Give yourself to your king. Tell me you’re mine. I want to hear you say it.”

I look up into his eyes. I want him to claim me. I want himin me.

“I’m yours,” I whisper.

I watch as something snaps in him.I feel it.

With effortless ease, his muscles bunching, he lifts me and carries me to the huge bed in the corner of the room. He drops me, his movements hurried, almost feral, as he reaches for my clothes and tears them off me. Fabric rips and pulls. In a hurriedfrenzy, I rush to help him. I’ve never wanted a man inside me so bad in my life.

His shirt hits the floor before I can blink, and I take a moment to touch his beautiful, perfect body.Noneof those videos did him justice. They didn’t capture the raw power and strength or the way he holds himself back so he doesn’t completely annihilate me. My mouth dries at the sight of him before me—all muscles, scars, and lethal, heartbreaking beauty.

“You’re staring.” That smirk makes my ovaries cry. But there’s a darkness in his gaze that half dares me to look away.

“Maybe I like what I see.”

He’s on me in seconds, grasping my wrists and pinning them down before he drags his teeth down the column of my neck. His tongue lashes out, and I arch into him with a moan I can’t stifle. “You’re mine,” he whispers against my ear. “Every heartbeat. Every breath.Mine,my sweet, beautiful little queen. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” I say with a moan.

I lean into him, my legs tangled with his as he shoves his knee between my thighs, parting them. Heat coils in my stomach, pressure builds a desperate ache between my thighs. I lift my hips, wordlessly begging for him to take me.

And then he slows as if savoring me. The hurried kisses grow softer. More passionate. He takes his time, his rough palm running the length of my body as if memorizing me, as he brushes his lips to mine. His hands explore me as if it’s the first time we’ve ever touched. His cock swells, pressed up against me, and I whimper.

“Don’t moan like that,” he grates. “I won’t be able to hold myself back, Ember. I’ll fucking break you.”

I arch into him and release a low, desperate moan, deliberately pressing into the hard length straining against his jeans, my hips rolling. “Maybe I want you to.”

Rodion’s grip on my hips tightens, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. His mouth brushes the shell of my ear, his breath ragged.

“Ty khocheš’, shtoby ya tebya rastyanul na etikh prostynyakh i zastroil tebia krikami, da?”

I don’t have a clue what he’s saying, but it makes me shiver. The words sound hot and sinful, and I love it.

I havewayunderestimated how hot his Russian is.Way underestimated.I’m going to make him record his voice so I can play it on repeat while I?—

His hand is on my neck. Pressing.

I told him to break me. I wanted this.

Do I?

I drag in a shuddering breath. I can still breathe.

Yes.

Heat floods my core at the feel of his heavy hand on my neck, the possessive look of his straining muscles, with the knowledge hecouldbreak me but won’t.

“What did you say?” I ask in a whisper, relishing the slow, wicked smirk that’s all Rodion. “The Russian.”

“I asked if you want me to stretch you out on those sheets and fill the room with the sound of your screaming.”

I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming beneath his palm. I nod.

“It’s easy in Russian,” he rasps. Say, “Da, Rodion.”

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