Page 21 of Control: XXX Vadim 1
Again, I’ve forsaken any panties, a fact that he takes advantage of with a swift, deliberate thrust of what feels like his thumb.
Holy crap. My startled moan rings out. This isn’t like how he touched me before. Gone is the mocking, persistent wall. His finger trembles with barely concealed restraint. Like it’s taking everything he has in him not to rake with his nails. Shove inside me. Grip. Mark. Hurt.
The worst part? Something sick inside of me kind of wants him to.
“Are you going to just tease me again?” I wonder mockingly. “Fuck me half-assed and then kick me to the curb?”
He goes rigid, and I chuckle in triumph, scooting away from him.
“I thought so. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have arealfuck waiting to be experienced—”
He grabs me hard, shoving me face down against the leather. Panic prickles through my nerves, but a stronger emotion keeps the fear at bay for now. Excitement.
The hands wrenching up the skirt of my dress aren’t polished and mocking anymore. They ruthlessly feel along my skin, palming my ass. I hiss in irritation when they withdraw only to…
Thwack!My eyelids flutter as fire sears through my left cheek—the kind of pain caused by only one act.
“D-Did you just spank me?” I question through clenched teeth, horrified. As if in apology, his palm cups me again, smoothing over the stinging flesh. He withdraws…only to assault the same spot again. Harder—definitelya spanking.
My mouth waters at the realization, my knees buckling. Throat rasping, all I can think to say is, “Do it again…”
He doesn’t. Instead, he must grab a chunk of my hair, using it to yank my head back. I whimper as the pain sears through my scalp. It actually hurts.
It hurts so good.
Sweat mists my skin as I arch my hips, seeking out more contact. Touching. Anything. Disappointed when he doesn’t deliver a single caress, I scoff, my laughter harsh.
“Are you going to fuck me with your wall up?” I taunt him, rolling my eyes up to the ceiling—the only thing I have a clear view of from this position. “Sorry, Vadim. Been there. Done that. Got the postcard and it wasn’t all it was cracked up to—”
“Merde.” The foreign word rips from him as he tests me with his thumb, finding me dripping. “You enjoy this?” he mutters, his voice rasping with confusion.
Enjoy?My brain takes that word and runs with it, translating it from brooding billionaire speak to English—won.Trapped. Conquered.
I made him come here, to a venue he seems to hate, run by a brother he loathes. I’ve reduced him to this—a creature ruled by lust, too far gone to hold back. He’ll take what he wants.
I whimper at the telltale hum of a zipper being undone. The hiss of shifting fabric. Then I feel him pulsating against me, and my brain threatens to turn off for good.
“I thought I’m not your type,” I tell him spitefully, even though he feels so good I almost hate myself for trying to deter him. He’s a delicious conduit of heat, prodding my lower lips, feeling thicker than before. Intimidating. One experimental buck of his hips forces him a fraction inside me, drawing a groan from my mouth. But when he thrusts for real, I can’t silence a scream.
He goes deep, lacking his previous restraint. His next thrust is even harder. Ruthless.
It’s everything I never knew I wanted, and my brain can’t cope. I go blank, drugged on the sensation as he manipulates me like a rag doll, driving in so fiercely my teeth chatter with the violent motions. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I know he’s snarling in frustration, spitting out a mixture of English and that other mysterious language.
While my mewling, throaty cries easily overpower him.
“Is this—” His hips slam into me, rocking my body against the back of the couch. I have to scramble like I’m trying to crawl over it, just to find enough stability to push back, ridding every stroke he has to give. “What—” Another thrust. “You wanted?”
Apunishingthrust nearly robs me of my voice. Gasping, I answer him mindlessly. “Yes, yes, yes. So good. More, more.”
I stimulate my inner muscles to grip him hard, testing his resolve. If anything, the challenge seems to spur him into snatching my hips, yanking me into him. Groaning, he works to shove past each rippling, grasping contraction. His cock swells, sowing friction that has my toes curling in my heels.
I think my brain explodes.
The next thing I know, an orgasm is tearing through me so strongly I can only grit my teeth and ride it out, wave after brutal wave. Even in my daze, I sense the moment he seems to pull back. Come to his senses. Try to reassemble his wall before it’s too late.
“No!” I wiggle my hips shamelessly, humping him like some porno star. “Come in me, please, please, please.”
He swipes his hand over my lower back—hesitating? Then he grips me hard, his nails sinking in. All I can do is seize the edge of the couch and hold on as he bucks into me, grunting. Groaning.
