Page 39 of His Hold

Magnificent doesn’t even come close to describing the way I feel—dirty.

I swipe and thrust, feeling as my skin becomes hotter, as my pussy becomes wetter, dripping for him, and knowing I’m coming close. The sensations begin to gather in my knees and toes, pushing and shoving for light, clawing their way up my body.

I gasp and moan. Unabashedly. Too turned on to care about anything else, too lost in the spiral.

“Nikolai. Nikolai. Please… please…”

I need him, right now. I need to feel his body on mine, to feel the weight of his body press into mine, tangled and warm, crushing me under him. I feel the pressure shift then, knowing I’m close.

I push my head back, gasping, ready, waiting, willing, my whole body screaming for release.

“Your face,” Nikolai mutters. “I love the look you make when you’re about to come with my name on your tongue.”

Wait! That’s not right. He isn’t supposed to respond to me, right?

So, I peel my eyes open to see the object of my desire, the man who’s now standing in front of me, one hand hooked against his hip, a small but dangerous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and eyes dark with something wicked.

I scream. That’s what I do, that’s what any sensible woman who’s just been caught masturbating will do. And then I pull my fingers out and hide them behind my back because they are still wet, still coated with my guilt. He’s too close, towering over me.

“No, don’t stop. Don’t stop!” He groans like I’ve just upset the balance of the world, like I’ve robbed him of something he’s entitled to.

I try to speak, but the words come out all jumbled and out of breath, a mess of panic and lust. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were busy—”

“I was,” he says, cutting me off. “But then I heard you, moaning my name like a needy slut.”

Somebody kill me now! I need the ground to open and swallow me whole.

“Don’t you know what privacy is?”

“I know what it means,” he says, so matter-of-fact with his answers, that I start to wonder what’s going on in his head. “If you were vying for privacy, then you did a pretty awful job of it. You were moaning my name, Katya. That’s damn hard not to notice, hard not to want.”

He drags a chair forward and sits down on it, his legs spread wide. Now, he’s close enough—too close.

“Take off your shorts,” he snarls, the command dripping with hunger.

“No. What… are… you…”

“Take it off right now, or I will, Kat, I swear. I’ll rip them off you myself.”

I lift my hips up, tug the shorts off, and shimmy them out of the way, letting them land on the floor with a soft thud.

“Spread your legs out,” he demands. I do it, but drag my eyes down, afraid he’ll see something else there, something I’m trying to keep hidden. “No, look at me. I want your eyes on me while you come, while you fall apart for me.”

I glance up at him. He’s still naked except for the pants, and that just breaks something inside of me, snaps it clean in two.

“Moya Lyubov,” he whispers, charged, erect in his pants, the bulge straining against the fabric. “Put your fingers down your pussy and rub it for me. Show me how much you need this.”

I don’t think he’s noticed he called me my love. I shouldn’t even notice these things, but I do, and suddenly, it’s all I can think about. My love. My love. It’s a sick promise, a twisted tether.

I slide my fingers back into my pussy, slightly embarrassed over how wet it’s become since he joined, how much wetter he makes me. I flick my sex and gasp, goosebumps erupting all over my skin, a wildfire spreading. It’s not like I haven’t masturbated before. I have, and yet somehow this is different. New. Sinful. I welcome it wholeheartedly, diving headfirst into the abyss.

“Take your fingers out,” he commands, eyes locked on me. “Suck on them. Lick those juices off your fingers. Show me how filthy you are.”

I do as he says, without question, bringing my slick fingers to my mouth and sucking them clean, tasting myself while he watches. He lets out a sound that’s animalistic before unzipping his pants and bringing his thick cock out. He strokes the veined hardness, and I swallow, my throat tight. He’s beautiful, sitting down in front of me and stroking his cock to my pussy, a god of ruin and desire.

“Keep touching yourself for me, baby…” His voice is deep, masculine, honeyed venom, tight with need. “Just like that… ooh… yeah, fuck yourself. Yeah… mmmm. Fuck that sweet little cunt for me.”

Oh, God, his moans. His words. Everything. They sink into me, pull me under.

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