Page 151 of Bride By Coronation

His scent grows thicker, enveloping me until there's no boundary between us. The high wanes, and he releases his grip on my hip, bringing his hand to the other side of my neck.

I moan, moving faster over his cock, chasing my orgasm. The desire intensifies, and the anticipation of all ten fingers wrapping around me tighter taunts me.

He grunts, his blues turning darker.

"Do it," I order.

His eyes narrow. He thrusts so hard, I'm sure he's inside my stomach, and his fingers curl around my neck, cutting off a portion of my air supply.

Incoherent, muffled sounds fill the air, and I realize they're mine. Zings ricochet in my core.

He squeezes so hard the remaining oxygen disappears. He forces my pussy over him by pushing me down using the heels of his hands on my collarbone just as he thrusts the hardest yet.

A rush of dopamine surges through me, making me see white, then black. My entire body soars, and it's like I'm looking down and seeing us.

He flips me onto my back, loosens his grip on my neck, and brings his lips to my ears, continuing to thrust inside me, demanding, "Come back to me, little bird."

I flutter my eyelids several times and then choke, gasping for air.

"That's it," he praises, kissing my lobe, his hot breath adding to the chaos.

I gather as much air as possible and turn my head. I flick my tongue back into his mouth, not satiated, wanting more.

He doesn't stop thrusting, and his sweat merges with mine. He takes my wrists and pins them over my head. His other hand stays on my throat.

Another wave of endorphins crashes through me. I order, "Again."

His lips twitch against mine. He scolds, "So greedy."

"Yes. I'm your greedy wife. Now, please," I beg.

He pulls his head back, pinning his blues on mine, taking shallowbreaths. His pointer finger strokes my chin. He grits something in Russian, and his erection thickens.

"Kirill," I shriek just before he cuts my oxygen off. A deluge of euphoria hits me. Convulsions overpower me, and I violently thrash against him.

His guttural sounds echo around us, and I grip the gold bars of the headboard.

The white stars in my vision turn to black. The out-of-body experience resurfaces, and I don't know how long I'm out.

He sharply barks, "Come on, Fiona. Look at me."

I flutter my eyelids until he comes back into focus just in time for him to growl, "Jesus fucking Christ, Fiona," as he pumps his seed deep into me, filling me and giving me another shot of my high.

He collapses over me, releases my wrists, and we both breathe hard. Our chests push together, and our bodies lie in a pool of arousal. When I can finally breathe, I slide my hand into his hair and kiss him near his ear.

He moves his head, then rolls over, tugging me with him, and stares at me in question.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

He hesitates and shakes his head. "Nothing's wrong, little bird. Nothing."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

He softly smiles. "I don't know. I guess I'm happy."

I grin, chirping, "Because of me?"

He chuckles. "Of course it's because of you. Why else would I be happy?"

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