Page 24 of Vasily the Hammer

There’s rustling behind me. Vasily’s receded too far into the shadows for me to see his reflection, but I think he’s undressing. There’s the whisper of fabric sliding against fabric, the metallic click of a belt buckle and the quick snap of the belt sliding through its loops, the zing of the zipper.

I watch for him in the glass, seeking him in those shadows, as I rub myself. I rest my forehead against the window to free up my other hand so I can explore my breasts, too. The one I rest in my palm is impossibly soft and silky and pliant. The boneless weight of it feels good in my hand, and when I pinch my nipple?

“Vasily!” I whimper. “Vass . . . I’m not . . . oh, God, I’m not . . . going to last . . .” I have to bite down on my lip to keep from exploding.

“I’m not going to either.” He says it proudly, with admiration. He’s loving the show I’m putting on for the neighbors across the street.

I should look there, see if anyone really is watching. This is my kink, supposedly. And since I’m doing this, I’m not denying that it is. But I only want to see Vasily, so I search the reflections until my eyes start to cross.

Or maybe that’s the orgasm looming. I’m so freaking close that the foot balanced on the armrest actually contracts and lifts onto the toes.

Okay, my flexibility is apparently great.

And then, like an ancient god monster rising from the depths of the abyss, Vasily steps into the ray of afternoon light, and his reflection takes shape in the window. He’s naked from head to toe, his body all pale flesh taut over firm planes and heavily ridged muscles, his body dwarfing mine the closer he gets. I see his eyes shining in the reflection, their intensity practically singeing me. His hand is sliding over the shaft of his thick cock, its broad headdewy, and my hand takes on a similar motion. Slower than I was rubbing myself, but with longer strokes that have my fingers reaching back toward my entrance.

“Wife,” Vasily murmurs, his voice nearly a purr, when his attention drops from my eyes to that hand.

“Husband?” I reply in a far more strangled tone, and now not only do I feel my dampness, I hear it as I push my fingers inside myself. I focus on his strokes, on making a connection in the absence of physical touch, and that’s when I see it.

Twin glints between his fingers, twinkling metal.

There’s a piercing going right through the underside of his cock, closed by a steel ball on either side.

Just the thought of how it must feel when he’s claiming me roughly, not just sliding along the sensitive walls of my pussy but rubbing over my tastebuds or spreading my rear entrance, is enough to send me cascading, the orgasm flowing through me in waves of green and blue, leaving my knees wobbling and my pussy desperate to know that feeling again.

Vasily makes good on his promise, catching me with one steel-strong arm as his body bends over mine, forcing me to fold so he can feed his cock into my aching core.

I cry out, my orgasm intensifying again as my muscle spasms suddenly meet resistance.

Thick,dense resistance that fills me fully and stretches me more than I was prepared for, making my pussy riot and gush around him. “Vasily!” I cry out, my voice echoing off the glass I pin myself to, forcing him to step even closer, to straighten himself and lift me into the window, just so I can watch and so the rest of LA can see how much he stretchesme.

He was right.

I love this.

I love letting the entire world see just how much of a slut I am for Vasily’s—my husband’s,every doubt is gone now— cock.

“Oh, Ana,” he groans lowly. “Fuck, you still feel like fucking heaven.”

I whisper, “I love you,” and deep in my heart, I know it’s not the first time I’ve told him that.

He buries his face in the crux of my neck, kissing and biting me, as much a proclamation of his own love as a physical claiming, the roughness of it no doubt leaving behind a mark.

I want him to mark me. I bet I begged for that tattoo. He starts to pump in and out of me, dragging his cock at the right angle that yes, I do feel that ball-capped steel rod as it penetrates me over and over again, and I feel this need to have him mark me every way possible.

I want his cologne all over me, to bathe in his scent so everyone knows.

I want my wedding ring back.

I want to swell with his—

“Wait, wait, wait!” I yelp, hating to stop him but suddenly remembering how I ended up here to begin with. “You forgot the condom!”

He bites again, and it really is hard enough I’m worried he’ll break skin. He swipes his tongue over the burning dental impression before sliding his nose up behind my ear and whispering, “Never again. You don’t get to leave anymore, dear wife. And you wouldn’t dare leave me with my baby growing in your belly, would you?”

I should want to get clarification on that— so I did leave him? Are we separated? Or did I just leave him in the physicalsense? Was I kidnapped on vacation?— but the best my brain can do is shelve that information to revisit later.

Vasily suddenly pulls me from the glass, just a step, just enough that I can still rest my forearms on it as one giant hand engulfs my breasts and the other goes under the propped-up leg to reach up and dig into my soft belly. He pistons into me more quickly, jerking his hips to make sure I feel it every time he bottoms out inside my heat, stamping his claim deep inside.

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