Page 15 of Bound Vows
"Don't," she whispers, though whether she's talking to me or herself isn't clear. Her fingers loosen on my shirt, then grip tighter again. "I don't want—" But the words die when her gaze drops to my mouth again.
To my shock, she doesn’t push me away. Instead, Maya yanks me down and crashes our mouths together with bruising force.
The kiss is nothing like the gentle seduction I might have planned for our wedding night. Maya bites my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, then soothes the sting with her tongue while her nails rake down my back through my shirt. I respond by tangling my fingers in her ponytail and tilting her head back to give me access to the column of her throat.
As she kisses me, I feel her resistance in the way her teeth catch my lip—not passion, but punishment. She's angry with herself, angry with me, angry with the heat building between us despite everything.
“You taste like violence and want,” I growl against her pulse point.
“And you taste an awful lot like shitty decisions.” The words come out breathless, but there's self-loathing underneath them. She hates that she wants this, hates that her body is responding to mine.
I feel it.
Maya wraps her legs around my waist and arches against me, creating friction that shoves me across the thin line between sane and certifiable. She works at the buttons of my shirt as I push her sports bra up and over her breasts to expose the perfect olive skin and dusky nipples that beg for my attention.
Her movements are aggressive, almost violent—as if she's trying to punish us for this moment of weakness.
I lower my head and take one peaked nipple into my mouth, sucking and biting until Maya cries out and bows off the floor. Her hands get lost in my hair as she holds me against her while I worship her breasts with my teeth and tongue.
“Andrei,” she gasps when I switch to her other breast and lavish the same attention on that neglected flesh.
The sound of my name on her lips destroys what remains of my restraint. I sit back on my heels and strip off my shirt, then reach for the waistband of her shorts. Even as Maya lifts her hips to help me remove them, along with the scrap of lace that passes for underwear, she continues to war with herself. Every movement betrays her internal war—want battling against wisdom, desire fighting against self-preservation.
“Beautiful,” I breathe as I take in the sight of Maya Mastroni spread naked underneath me on the gym floor. Her dark hair is fanned around her head, and her green eyes are blazing with desire and defiance.
“Less talking, more fucking,” Maya demands as she reaches for my belt buckle.
The crude words are another form of armor. If she can make this base and meaningless, maybe she won't have to acknowledge what it actually means.
I help her free me from my remaining clothes, then position myself between her thighs with my cock pressing against her slick entrance. Maya is wet and ready. My little Piccola can pretend to be immune to me all she wants, but her body betrays how much this dangerous game affects her.
“Last chance to?—”
“Shut up and fuck me, Volkov.”
By the time the words have left her mouth, I’ve already driven into her with one powerful thrust, burying myself to the hilt in her tight heat. Maya moans and digs her nails into my shoulders as her inner muscles clench around me like a velvet fist.
“Christ, you feel incredible,” I groan as I fight the urge to lose it already.
After I draw in a long, deep breath, I set a punishing rhythm, plunging into her with the same controlled violence we brought to our sparring. Maya meets every thrust with her own, using her legs around my waist to pull me deeper while her hands roam over my neck and back.
The mirrors surrounding us reflect our joined bodies from multiple angles, creating an erotic kaleidoscope of flesh and movement. I catch Maya’s eyes in one of the glass panes and see my hunger reflected at me.
“Look at us,” I command as I angle my thrust to hit a spot that makes her gasp. “Look how perfectly we fit together.”
Maya turns to watch our reflection just as I reach between us and find her clit. She holds eye contact as I rub the sensitive bundle of nerves in tight circles while I pound into her.
“Don’t stop,” Maya pants, and her movements are becoming more erratic as she approaches the edge. “Right there. Don’t stop.”
I maintain the pressure and rhythm that’s driving her wild and watch in fascination as she climbs toward release. When Maya finally breaks apart, she throws her head back and screams my name, and her body convulses around me.
The sight and sensation of her orgasm triggers my own, and I bury myself deep inside her as I come with a roar that bounces off the mirrored walls. For several long moments, we remain locked together, breathing heavily while aftershocks pulse through our joined bodies.
Eventually, I pull out and collapse beside her on the padded floor, and we stare at the ceiling while we recover. Maya is soaked with sweat, and her hair has escaped its ponytail to form a dark cloud around her shoulders.
"Why the hell did I do that?" Maya’s voice is raw with self-recrimination. She covers her face with her hands, and her words come out muffled but anguished. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" She turns her head to look at me, and I witness the moment wariness invades her green eyes again as reality reasserts itself. “This doesn’t change anything between us.”
“Oh, it doesn’t, does it?” I chuckle.
