Page 57 of Beautiful Agony

"Yes," I gasp against his mouth. "Just like that."

He kisses down my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as his pace becomes almost punishing. I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, using the leverage to drive him deeper. The new angle has me crying out with each thrust.

My nails rake down his back as pleasure builds inside me. His muscles flex beneath my fingers, sweat making his skin slick. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with our arousal fills my senses.

"Harder," I demand, biting his lower lip. "Make me feel you."

He obliges, his powerful body moving against mine with an intensity that steals my breath. I feel owned, claimed, marked as his in the most primal way. Our bodies move together in perfect sync, finding a desperate rhythm.

His forehead presses against mine as we move, our breaths mingling. Those storm-gray eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my core clench around him. I can't look away, don't want to look away.

"I want to ride you," I whisper against his lips, loving how his eyes darken at my words.

He pulls out slowly, making me whimper at the sudden emptiness. With predatory grace, he lies back on the bed, his cock standing proudly against his taut stomach. The sight of him like this—all hard muscle and heated skin—makes my mouth water.

I climb on top of him, straddling his hips. His hands immediately find my thighs, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin. The possessive touch sends shivers up my spine.

"Show me how a whore rides her pakhan," he commands, voice thickening with desire.

The thick head of his cock presses against my entrance. His fingers dig into my flesh as I slowly sink down, taking him inch by delicious inch until he's fully sheathed inside me again.

My hands brace against his chest for balance, feeling his heart thundering beneath my palms and through his cock. His muscles flex under my touch as I start to move, rolling my hips in the way I know drives him wild.

"Zvyozdochka," he groans, the pet name falling from his lips like a prayer.

I lean down to capture his mouth in a searing kiss as I ride him, setting a steady rhythm that has us both panting. His hands roam my body—squeezing my breasts, trailing down my sides, gripping my hips to guide my movements.

I quicken my pace, feeling him throb inside me with each roll of my hips. The physical sensations are familiar—the stretch of him filling me completely, the way his fingers dig into my flesh, the sound of our bodies meeting. But where there was pain and desperation on the stairs, now there is only pleasure and desire.

My hands trail over his chest as I ride him, memorizing every hard plane of muscle. His eyes lock onto mine, dark with want but soft with something deeper. There's no anger there now, no self-loathing or guilt.

Just pure need and... love.

"You feel so good inside me," I whisper, clenching around him deliberately.

His groan of pleasure sends wet heat pooling low in my belly.

This is nothing like that desperate coupling on the stairs where I tried to punish myself through him. Now each thrust, each touch, each kiss is an affirmation.

We both want this—want each other. The realization makes me bold, makes me sink into him to take him deeper.

His hands slide up my sides to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my sensitive nipples. The touch sends sparks of pleasure through me, making me moan his name. Where once I screamed in pain and rage, now I cry out in ecstasy.

"That's it,zvyozdochka," he growls, voice thick with desire. "Show me how much you want this."

I lean down to capture his mouth in a passionate kiss, rolling my hips faster. His tongue tangles with mine as we move together, finding a perfect rhythm. This isn't about punishment or pain anymore. This is about pleasure, about connection, about two people choosing each other.

I trail kisses down Vadim's neck, tasting the salt of his sweat and the musk that's purely him. My teeth graze his pulse point before I bite down playfully, loving how his breath catches.

"Oh you filthy whore," he growls, his fingers digging into my hips.

"Yourfilthy whore," I whisper against his skin, rolling my hips faster. "And you love it."

His cock seems to swell bigger and harder as I ride him harder. The sound of skin against skin mingles with our heavy breaths.

"Is this what you wanted?" I taunt, clenching around him deliberately. "Your wife riding you like a cheap whore?"

He groans, the sound vibrating through his chest under my palms. His hands slide up to grip my waist, guiding my movements as I bounce on his cock.

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