Page 76 of Violent Love: Viktor
Ania had recovered from childbirth and ruined my pet in the process. It was always going to happen. I warned him. Told the Pakhan to control his wife, and he laughed in my face.
Still, I partially won in the end.
MySukacan’t go without cock.
It was breeding season, and my bitch was in heat.
I took my shoes off, eyeing the staircase. I wanted to catch her off guard. Once I cleared the stairs, I moved like a fox, avoiding the creaky floorboards. Our bedroom door was open a crack.
I peered in.
She lay in the middle of the bed, knees up and crossed, swinging that dainty little foot while reading her Kindle. Innocent enough—if you ignored the half-faced dog mask, my collar, and her bare ass on full display.
I nudged the door wider.
“Where is it?” I demanded.
She jumped, Kindle slipping to the bed.“You gave me a fright,” she said, hand pressed to her chest.
My eyes dropped to her tits. Perky. Bouncing.
Oh, she was going to pay.
“You’ll never find it,” she said with a grin.
I took off my jacket, tossed it to the chair.
“What does it say on your cunt?”
She pouted.
“Viktor’s pussy,” she mumbled.
“Damn right it does.”
Not that she ever listens. I thought tattooing it on her cunt would help. It didn’t.
She slid off the bed, crawling toward me with her tail high and her eyes full of mischief. While I unbuttoned my shirt, she worked at my belt.
“I’m at the right temperature,” she said, tugging down my zip.“I was checking my cervical mucus with the vibrator. Might’ve gotten a touch carried away.”
“A touch,” I grunted.“You were hammering away like you were trying to reach fucking Narnia through your cunt.”
She froze, blinked, then smirked.“You’ve read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?”
“I watched the movie.” I shoved her hands away.“And don’t worry—I’ve got something that’ll help you get pregnant this time. Go lie on the bed. Keep your fucking hands to yourself.”
“Yes, Master,” she said sweetly, crawling back with a wiggle.
My gaze lingered on her cunt. It was still surreal that I wanted a child of my own. Natalya was nearly thirty now, and she wanted it—bad. We both adored Ayla, but I couldn’t deny my wife. She never asked for much, other than my cock.
Now she wanted my balls too.
They were hers.
I went to the sock drawer and pulled out the silk pouch.
She’d be bredmyway.
