Page 212 of In Love with a Ruthless Man

I half-gasped, half-cried out, “No, please—-” I moved quickly, hoping to stop him, but he was even faster, and in an instant he had my arms trapped over my head, my wrists secured by his large hand.

Our eyes met.

His fingers slid inside my pants.

I moaned.

No. This couldn’t be happening. We had just met.

His fingers moved lower—-

And my head spun.

My pulse jumped.

My heart raced.

He started to stroke my flesh over the lace of my panties, and my lips parted in silent dismay when I felt myself starting to get wet.

“Nooooo.” This wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be possible. We hadn’t even kissed or held hands. We didn’t even know each other for a day. And yet—-

My body was responding to his touch like it yearned to be under his command.

Staring up at him in a sensual daze, I whispered, “This doesn’t make sense.”

“You want me, and I want you.” His own voice was raspy with need now, his breathing harsh. “That’s all there is to it.”

Aaah.

The sound of his voice, combined with the tantalizing movements of his fingers, had me biting my lip hard. Even with most of the room eclipsed in his darkness, I could sense his gaze glittering down on me, could imagine it burning with desire, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

His fingers started to move just a bit faster, and my breath started to catch as I could feel myself swelling and heating up under his touch.

His knowing fingers promised me pleasure so intense it almost had me sobbing—-

But I still tried to resist.

I had to...didn’t I?

“Please...pleasestop.” That I was begging confused, shamed, and excited me. It was just so hard to keep my mind straight with his fingers stimulating flesh so expertly. I hadn’t even known my pussy could get this wet and swollen, hadn’t ever imagined that rapture could be such an earthy feeling, a sensation where the lines of pain and pleasure blurred all because of a man’s stroking fingers.

“Why should I stop,pchelka?” Low, velvety, and seductive, his tone made my toes curl so hard as I found myself imagining how it would sound to have him groaning my name while making love.

“You want this. We both want this.” And as if to prove his point, he moved his fingers up—-

My eyes flew open as I realized what he was about to do, and how there would be no turning back after it. “Sergei, no——”

But it was too late.

His fingers slid inside my panties.

The smooth pads of his fingers came into contact with my sensitive skin.

A hopeless cry escaped me.

It was now flesh against flesh, his fingers grazing my tender, wet, and swollen pussy—-

“You’re so damn wet, pchelka.”

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