Page 111 of Vengeful Princess

“Is this how you like it?” With each forceful thrust, I moaned. It felt like he was so deep I’d be tasting him in my throat. I wondered what it would be like if Landon was here, fucking my mouth while Kyril took my pussy.

“You love it, don’t you,” he groaned, feeling my pussy clench around him.

“Yes,” I gasped before he shoved my face into the mattress and twisted my nipple so hard I cried out in pain. But it felt amazing, the kind of pain I liked.

Was I broken? Surely it wasn’t normal to enjoy being hurt like this. I should probably refer myself for counseling. Or something.

“That’s it, take my cock,” Kyril snarled, his thrusting growing more erratic.

I was so close, teetering on the edge of a mind-blowing orgasm. All it took was his fingers on my clit to push me over the edge, and I fell into a well of endless pleasure. The room faded as my body shattered.

Kyril followed me a few moments later, his huge body shuddering as he came and then collapsed on top of me. We stayed locked together until I elbowed him in the ribs to let him know he was suffocating me.

He quickly rolled away and disposed of the condom, leaving me lying on the bed, boneless and ready for a nap. Jesus. If I felt like this every time I had sex, I would literally get nothing done.

Sex and sleep, food, sex and sleep. How did people cope?

The mattress dipped again as Kyril returned from the bathroom. My eyes stayed closed. This was when he’d leave. I was OK with that. He didn’t need to hang around.

But instead of getting dressed and leaving, he crawled up the bed and pulled the covers over both of us. One arm snaked over my waist and a hand cupped my breast possessively. His cock was still semi-hard, but he did nothing about it.

I heard him murmur a few words in Russian, something like “Ty moya,”but I didn’t bother asking him what it meant. Instead, I fell back to sleep, my body sated and my mind quiet for once.

61

Thea

“Settle down, everyone!” I rolled my eyes. If Isettled downanymore, I’d be in a coma. Unlike most of the other students, who actually seemed excited about the class.

Yawn.

Like I cared.

I was all out of fucks to give and pretty sure the professor guessed as much from the way he scowled at me. It hadn’t escaped his notice that my assignments had been late more than a few times. Probably because I put very little effort in.

What was the point?

“For this project, you’ll partner up to start a fictional business together. We need a business plan, cash flow statements, the whole nine-yards. I will assign each pair a business idea. Some of them are more difficult than others, but the point of the project is to show how you can turn an idea into a successful venture. At the end of the semester, you and your partner will do a presentation. Your grade will be based on this presentation, as well as the projected success - or failure - of your company, giventhe level of difficulty you faced. So those of you assigned the more difficult projects, fear not. As long as you can resolve some or all of the issues, it will not hurt you. Are we clear?”

I yawned again, and once again, the professor glared. He could tell I was really into this project. On my left, Cassian chuckled.

“Excited, Thea?”

“Excited for lunch, definitely,” I muttered. A double espresso coffee with ten sugars was in my future, followed by something with cheese. My stomach was on the verge of eating itself after an intense workout first-thing. Because I’d woken up late, I’d barely had time to shower and shove a protein bar down my neck before this class began.

“I have already chosen who’s working with who for the assignment.” Half the class groaned, no doubt unhappy that they couldn’t couple up with a friend. “Check your email at the end for all the details. Now, open your textbooks on page 267.”

The rest of the lesson passed in a blur. I tried to make notes, but gave up after 30 minutes. My stomach was too growly and my eyes scratchy with fatigue.

Sitting through lectures on topics I cared little about made me wish, not for the first time, that my father had signed me up for history or something. Hell, even art with Eden would be better than business.

I concentrated on doodling while the professor droned on and Cassian tapped away on his laptop. Thank God one of us gave a shit.

He probably had no choice, though. No doubt in 10 years, he’d be heading up some government department while sitting on the board of directors of another five companies. Meanwhile, I would be stuck in a hellish forced marriage, popping out babies, and praying for death.

Depressing?

Yes.

---