Page 9 of Vasily the Nail

“Good girl,” Vasily rumbles, giving the encouragement I need to try it again.

And again.

And again.

It feels good. So good. And beneath me, Vasily still praises me, but his words flip between English and Russian, his pelvis rocks, his muscles flex beneath my arms. When I start taking five, he digs his fingers into my hair to drag me down for a kiss, but I think . . .

I think I’m the one kissing him.

And it feels good.

I can’t lose sight of the fact that I’ve been forced into this and I don’t know him and I’ll hopefully never see him again. This will ruin me. I’ve been robbed of my best bargaining chip, although it seems so stupid now. But we’re not married, and that’s something that was stolen from me, that I protected, that I cared about, even if I always knew my marriage was going to be arranged for me.

“So sweet,” Vasily groans at my nextfive.

“Vasily,” I whimper, frustration bubbling inside me as I work myself faster on him, attempting the sixth bar. It’s too much, but I’m not getting enough, either. “I–I can’t.”

“I understand. Let me.”

I want him to take over the thrusts somehow. I don’t know if that’s even possible when I’m on top of him, but I’m stuck and I don’t know what else to do. And although he does little more with his cock than move in rhythm with me so that I feelhim everywhere, it’s his hand on my clit suddenly, the blindfold preventing me from knowing what he’s doing until the pressure is suddenly there, lighting everything up.

I shatter.

“You come on cock,ovechka?” Vasily asks, going still beneath me.

My core clenches around his shaft in hard pulses that feel so different with him inside me that I’m scared if he does anything, I’ll fall apart again, but I’m pretty sure he’s still hard. He hasn’t finished. “Vasily?” I whisper, and every time I say his name, it’s easier.

Every time he rubs my back, as he does now, lightly brushing the base of my spine, it feels even better.

“How you feel,ovechka?”

“Good.”

“You like thick Russian cock?”

I hate the way he says it, how crass it is, but I’m already damned. There’s no point in pretending I didn’t. “Yes.”

“Da, very good. I like your tight American pussy.”

As pathetic as it is, I’m happy he said it that way. I get that his English isn’t great. I’m okay with filling in the blanks. But I needed thatyour.

He puts me back on my hands and knees, and this time when he slides in, he meets hardly any resistance. Those piercings of his, though, hit a different spot inside me, one that has me crying out and seizing up around him again.

Russian spews out from him as his fingers dig into my hips, drawing me back to meet him, and despite the speed at which he moves, I can tell I’m taking six. I can feel him going too far.

No, just far enough. I have to drop down to my elbows, but that makes it even better. I’m already coming again when he groans loudly. I’m not sure if I’m imagining it or not, but I swear I feel his semen filling me.

He pulls out, and more of it splashes both my ass and belly.

He’s quiet after that. He rubs my back more and then the backs of my thighs. I laugh when I realize how similar the motion is to brushing down a horse after a long ride.

I feel like I’ve been on a long ride. My thighs certainly feel that way.

“You are happy,ovechka?”

I laugh again at how ridiculous this all is. I should feel awful. I don’t know how I’m going to confess this tomorrow. Father Rossi is going to be so disappointed in me. “I guess I am.”

“You live with me then. Fifteen days.”

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