Page 146 of Beautiful Cruelty

My body convulses beneath him as the pleasure washes away every other sense. I keep screaming those two words until my voice gives out. Until the waves begin to ebb and my throat feels like sandpaper.

His mouth crashes against mine, stealing what little breath remains in my lungs. The metallic tang of his blood mingles on our tongue, marking me as surely as he's marked every other part of my body.

His hands find mine, fingers intertwining, and the slick warmth of his blood coats our palms.

The irony isn't lost on me. After everything that's happened, I'm the one who drew his blood. I put it on his hands before he can put it on mine.

My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper to deny him the right to cum anywhere but inside. His thrusts grow desperate, uneven. Gone is the measured control from before. This is pure animal need, primal and raw. I lock my ankles behind his back, using the leverage to drive him impossibly deeper, urging him toward his own release.

His lips tear away from mine. I hear his ragged breathing and feel his body tensing above me. His hands grip mine, fingers tightening as his rhythm grows erratic. I squeeze my ankles around him and clench my pussy, urging him on. A low groan tears from his throat as his hips snap forward one final time.

Warmth floods through me as he releases deep inside. The sensation triggers another small aftershock that has me crying out beneath him in a hoarse whisper through my aching throat.

His forehead drops to rest against mine, and our harsh breaths mingle in the space between us while thunder rumble outside of Pankration's walls.

I barely notice the cold marble floor against my back or my wet clothes clinging to my body. I’m lost in the feeling of being so completely claimed, so utterly filled.

Vadim’s body covers mine like a shield, protecting me even now when I've done everything to push him away.

I want to hate how right this feels. How perfectly we fit together, even in our brokenness.

But I can't.

“Fuck you, Vadim Stravinsky…”

Hot tears spill down my cheeks as reality crashes back. This was what I wanted—to be used, to be hurt, to feel something other than the crushing weight of guilt.

But the cost...

I forced him to become everything he hates and fears. Made him act like the father whose shadow he's spent his whole life trying to escape.

His hands still grip mine, our fingers interlaced, sticky with drying blood from where I bit him.

More tears flow as I realize just how deeply I've wounded him. Not with my teeth or my nails, but with my words. With the way I used the vulnerabilities he showed me against him.

I got exactly what I wanted. But I had to break him to get it.

A sob catches in my throat as the full weight of what I've done hits me. How can I face him after this? How can I look into those storm-gray eyes knowing I deliberately pushed him toward his darkest fears?

His body still covers mine, but the intimacy feels wrong now. Tainted by the realization of what I made him do.

"Look at me,zvyozdochka…" he begs, and I obey.

Above me, Vadim's eyes remain locked on mine, filled with an emotion I'm not ready to name.

43

VADIM

I pull myself from her,my cum trailing down her thighs. My legs are watery as I stand, my mind reeling at what I've just done to her. The marble floor must be cold underneath her, but she doesn't move.

Just trembles.

This felt wrong. All of it. The way she begged me to hurt her. The way I gave in. The blood on my hand where she bit me.

I'm no better than Pyotr.

Wordlessly, I bend down and scoop her into my arms. She curls against my chest, her tears soaking my shirt.

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