Page 85 of Viparious

“Moya koroleva.”

A pathetic, broken whimper floats above me. He looks up my body as though I’m really royalty and he’s swearing his allegiance to me. His tongue does the same with each line of where my skin has stretched, and another claim blows across it.

“Moya zhena1.”

Vlad continues moving across my hips and he follows the scar with his lips as he makes three passes. His voice deepens as he ends on my other hip, and he taps his thumb against the scar.

“Ty teper’ prinadlezhish’ mne2.”

Fuck him. He doesn’t get to claim anything, especially not because of a child he refuses to acknowledge.

“I will never belong to you. I’ll find someone better, someone normal who isn’t filled with fucking rage and secrets. He’ll write over your touch, and you will be nothing more than a memory I refuse to keep.”

Just like you did with me.

His top lip curls up and he sits taller, his broad shoulders are even more bitable, and I nearly miss what he says as he wraps his fingers around his dick and teases me with the tip between my thighs.

“He’d leave you every day, mentally. Go to a boring fucking office job where he’d find some slut to fuck on his lunch break.” Moving further up my body, he continues painting an image of a life I’ve never wanted. “Then he’d come home to you, smelling of cheap ass perfume and stale coffee. You’d accept his touch because you’d imagine me every time he touched you.”

We’re both fucked up and I tighten my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting more physically after so long without him.

He delicately trace my jawline with his nose and fits his lips by my ear to whisper his threat, “You’d wait for me to slit his fucking throat for touching what’s mine.”

He pushes into me in one thrust on the final word. A scream rips from my throat and wraps around my lie.

“No,” I groan. “I wouldn’t.”

He’s big and it burns without his usual preparation of going down on me as my back arches. The only point of contact I have with anything other than him is my crown and my ass against the bed as I dig my heels into his ass.

He pauses fucking my body and mind to put me at ease as he places a gentle kiss on my cheek and softly says, “Breathe out for me, malysh.”

Vlad’s conditioned me to melt at those specific five words and I do it instantly. He waits for me to adjust as he argues back with conviction of a future that won’t come into existence.

“You would. If anyone put their unworthy fucking hands on you, you would be waiting for me, watching the shadows because you know that you are fucking mine.” He hugs my cheek with his own as he his breathing escalates and he groans, “Don’t fucking lie when I can feel you loving theideaof violence.”

He doesn’t thrust into me — he grinds down and sets every nerve ending in my body alight.

“You know you’re mine. This pussy knows it’s fucking mine.”

I weakly shake my head as he strokes up my ribs to reach my arms that I still haven’t moved. Why didn’t I move them? I had control without him pinning me down. But I’m a fool and a moan breaks free as he slowly massages up my extended limbs to thread his fingers through mine. He cages me with his elbows resting beside my head.

“Say it,” he demands.

I don’t know what he’s asking for, but I bite my lip, refusing anyway. Soft lips mark a path across my cheek until they reach my lip trapped in my teeth. He smiles against me, and I melt. I want this idiot to be my idiot. For all his outrageous remarks to only ever be for my ears and even the bad to solely be mine.

Slowly pulling out to just the tip, he slams into me, forcing a moan into his mouth. He smiles wider and fucks me harder, the sounds fueling him. Emotion clogs my throat as he repeats his claim even deeper than he is inside me.

“Moya zhena.”

It turns into anger because he’s only doing this to fucking manipulate me, and I pull my hands down, trying to escape him.

The hold on my fingers tightens and I bite his bottom lip until blood dots my tongue. Fucking asshole. He’s being sweet to destroy me further. Letting go of his lip before it’s ripped from his face, I spit out, “Not for long, I’m divorcing you.”

He’s fucked me while he was angry before, this is different. His hand moves from my wrists, and he holds my hips, repositioning me so my head is hanging off the edge of the bed, without pulling out of me.

With his inked fingers wrapped around my hip and throat, he pushes every bit of his rage into me.

“You can’t fucking breathe?” I dig my nails into him. They score down his arms, his chest, his abs, anything for my mark to be left under his skin like he has me. “That’s what you fucking do to me!”

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