Page 37 of Savage Reign

Before I can blink, he hauls me up by the waist, takes my seat on the couch, and then drops me onto his lap. My thighs settle on either side of his hips, his grip firm even as I push against him, my nails biting into his forearms as I wriggle to get free, but for some reason, this doesn’t feel like a fight—it feels a lot more like foreplay.

“Stop struggling,” he growls, pinning my wrists behind me with one massive hand. His lips brush my ear. “The only thing you've accomplished is making my dick very hard.”

My chest constricts, my breathing uneven. He’s not exaggerating. His arousal presses into me, firm and insistent, setting every nerve ablaze.

“Trust me, that's not my intention,” I whisper back, breathlessly. Way too breathlessly.

I should shove him away, tell him how much he disgusts me, but that’s not what I do. Instead, I roll my hips against his hard length, a reflex that feels beyond my control. The friction against my clit has me swallowing back a gasp.

"Are you trying to get yourself off on me, wife?" he asks, his voice all sexy and gravelly.

I shake my head, trying to ignore the desire pooling low in my belly. Despite how fucking good it feels to have him hard between my legs, I know better than to invite trouble into my life. Except every time I try to push him away or tell him to back off, I can’t.

A shaky sigh leaves me. I close my eyes and tilt my hips, the pressure between my thighs growing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, but his hard, warm body beneath mine was more than any mere mortal could resist.

His hand slides up my spine, his fingers threading into my hair as he tugs sharply, forcing my head back and exposing my throat. His mouth follows instantly, teeth scraping against my skin, his tongue leaving trails of warmth and wicked promises.

I arch into him, my defenses crumbling as his lips move over me. By the time he pulls back, his dark, hungry gaze locks on mine, and I can’t find the strength to look away. He’s unraveling me, piece by piece, and I’m letting him.

Nikolai groans, his breath heavy. “Tell me what you want. Use your words.”

“I want you to let me go,” I whisper, though my voice doesn’t sound all that convincing.

“Mmmm, I don’t think that’s true.”

“You’ve lost your mind if you think I’d let you tattoo my finger,” I manage to get out, even as his lips brush the curve of my ear.

“Does that mean you’ll wear the ring?” he asks, his voice thick.

I let out a shaky breath, tension settling low in my belly. “You’re insane, you know that?”

His chuckle vibrates through me. “If you’re so against the tattoo…” He doesn’t finish that thought before his mouth descends, capturing my nipple through the thin fabric of my shirt. His tongue and teeth work the sensitive peak, and I whimper, arching to give him better access. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he pulls back sharply. “Then wear my ring.”

My jaw tightens, and I fight the desperate ache in my core. “I-I don’t like either option.”

“It seems we’re at an impasse.” He leans in again, capturing my other nipple with his mouth, working magic that is very hard to resist. My thighs clench as he drags out every ounce of control I thought I had.

When he pulls back, his intense gaze pins me in place. “Let’s make a deal. If I can make you come in under a minute, I get to tattoo the Zhukov Bratva symbol on your ring finger.”

“Nope. Not happening. And for the record, you wouldn’t even get close in under a minute.”

“If you’re so certain it’s impossible, then prove it.”

I’m ready to tell him to go to hell when an idea occurs to me. It’s a dangerous one. Reckless even, but I’m confident I’ll be the winner. “I’ll agree to the deal on one condition. If you lose, I don’t have to wear your ring… ever. You drop the issue. Throw the half-million-dollar rock into the sea for all I care.”

He drags his tongue over his teeth, his eyes narrowing. The air feels heavy as I hold my breath, daring him to take the bait.

Though my body aches for him, there’s no way in hell a man can get me off in less than a minute. I can’t do it myself that quickly—unless I’m armed with a vibrator, and even then, I can resist anything for a minute.

He gives me a slow, wicked smile, his hand gripping my chin as he pulls me closer, our lips a whisper apart. “Fine,” he says, his voice a low purr. “One minute. But the clock doesn’t start until I’m touching your pussy. Everything before that is a warm-up.”

Wait, what?

I barely have time to process what’s happening before his mouth crashes against mine. His tongue demands entrance, and I can’t stop myself from letting him in. There’s nothing gentle about this kiss—it’s all heat and possession, breaking down my defenses with each stroke of his tongue against mine, devouring me like I’m his last meal.

When his mouth breaks away to trail down my throat, I barely have time to drag air into my lungs before he captures my nipple with his lips again. The hot suction sends lightning through my veins, every nerve ending firing at once. My hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging in as his tongue continues to work me. Each lap and stroke builds the ache between my legs until I’m dripping for him.

“So fucking sweet,” he growls against my skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before moving to my other breast. The warm slide of his mouth against my skin pulls a broken cry from my throat as I arch closer to him. His answering groan vibrates through my flesh as he sucks harder, stealing whimpers I can’t hold back.

---