Page 74 of For a Price

But I’m not alone. Katerina’s close too. She stretches out in front of me as I pump into her.

“Bend that back and take my fucking cock,” I order, and she quivers trying to obey.

My kitty cat arches her spine, her ass bouncing against my cock. She’s coming undone before my eyes. With every deep stroke of mine, her pussy spasms. Her breaths shorten. She’s clenching fists into the bedsheets until finally she shatters.

She comes, slicking my cock in more of her juices.

I grip her ass and ride her harder, my thrusts rough and aggressive. A feral growl rumbles from my chest as I follow her over the edge.

The orgasm is so powerful, my hearing goes out. My vision grows hazy as I plant myself inside Katerina and fill her with my cum.

The room is silent except for our heavy breathing.

It takes another second to disentangle ourselves. She rolls over onto her back to peer up at me, her brown skin dewy and her lavender curls like a fuzzy cloud.

I bend over to kiss her on the mouth. “I told you I would have you. I would make you mine.”

She can’t seem to bring herself to speak. Instead, my kitty cat simply smirks, telling me all I need to know.

* Skazhi yemu to, chto ty skazal mne -tell him what you told me

* On snova napadet na menya -he will attack me again

* Skazhi yemu seychas ili ty razberesh’sya so mnoy -tell him now or you will deal with me!

* Brat -brother

* Chto on skazal o sem’yakh -what did he say about the families?

* Ty vykopal sebe mogilu -you dug your own grave

* Ya mogu imet’ tebya navsegda -I can have you forever

CHAPTER 22

Katerina

“You have a big appetite, kitty cat.”The very corner of Roman’s mouth twitches like he’s tempted to grin. He reaches out and twirls a finger in one of my lavender curls, watching in fascination as I scoop up a forkful of the medovik?* I’ve been served in bed.

Otherwise known as Russian honey cake.

After Roman and I were done working up a sweat and traumatizing the entire penthouse with the noises we made, he ordered his staff to serve us dessert in bed.

But he’s barely touched a bite.

Instead, dessert in bed has consisted of me sitting cross-legged in nothing more than my undies and his t-shirt, stuffing my face with cake.

He seems to be enjoying the view.

I swallow my latest mouthful and say, “It’s ironic I’m fed better in captivity than when I was free.”

“Captivity, devochka? Is that how you see your time here?”

“Considering I can’t set foot in the world outside? Yes.”

“For your protection. I’ve told you what would happen if you go free.”

“Right. Head on a pike. How can I forget?”

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