Page 31 of Conquer
Again.
I let him pin me against the window glass, murmuring praises. Gasps.Nothingas he controls my intake of air, teasing me with just enough space to gasp before his fingers clench. Body rocks. Cock thrums against my inner walls.
Rippling convulsions assault me, contorting my body from the inside out.
Never in my life have I come so violently before. I almost fear the incredible rise because I know the fall could be deadly. Only his grip serves as my sole safety net as the pleasure ebbs and flows in shattering waves.
“Youdowant something from me,” he grates into my ear as I mewl wordlessly, on the brink of another earth-shattering release. “My love, is that it? I can’t give it,” he confesses, bucking so hard I’m sandwiched between him and the window glass, my body bared for anyone passing by who happens to look up.
My addled, deranged mind skips ahead, envisioning a future with him. Exhibition with him, letting the world watch him take me like this. Claim me like this…
Pain sears through my earlobe, and with difficultly, I refocus my waning senses on him. His teeth nip me again, ensuring he has my full attention.
“My love? You’ve already taken it from me,” he growls, his body thrumming as he jerks, spilling himself inside me, heightening the depths of his confession. “Always.From the first fucking time you teased me with your praise. You’ve taken this from me…”
* * *
His bed,as it turns out, is too damn small for us to even lay on comfortably. We wind up lying naked on a sheet spread before the window, watching the world advance beyond this realm, bathed in darkness.
In the dizzying comedown, he only moves to salvage something from his pants, pressing it to his ear in the dark. “Goodnight,ma chérie,” I hear him murmur, revealing the sole person worthy of drawing his attention in this moment. Even now, he strives to keep his promise to her, always. “I will see you tomorrow. Please tell Tiffany’s parents she decided not to return too late and risk waking anyone. Goodnight.”
He hangs up and settles down beside me, forcing a physical connection I have no chance of resisting—his arms encircle me, a prison of heat.
Silence falls again. Finally…
“I guess this means no more trolling the bars for fake wives. No more bringing strange women to your penthouse suites,” I tell him, stroking his bare chest, loving how the moonlight paints him in silvery tones. “It seems as though you may be a family man now.”
“What a fate,” he says mournfully. One of his hands runs through my hair while the other possessively cups my hip. “And you can no longer flaunt your skills at attracting a variety of different men, it seems. Never will anyone else have you.”
“Never ever,” I agree with playful despondence. “But…”
I shift, craning my neck to see his face more clearly. The man is the picture of contentment, his eyes gleaming in the dark, his lips devoid of their natural resting frown. If I squint, his expression could almost be deemed a smile, soft and curling like the fall of his hair.
“There is one obstacle we need to overcome,” I tell him sternly.
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh.”
“Yes.” Sighing, I collapse against him, nestling into his touch. “We need to get you a million more books on kink. All the research you could ever need.”
Holy crap.My throat still aches, but damn was it worth it. Already, my body is humming at whatever tricks the man could have in store. I’m tempted to risk pissing him off again if only to experience the depths of his depravity all over again. Jim made normal sex into an ordeal.
With Vadim, makeup sex is a world unto itself, let alone the vanilla stuff. A woman could get seriously drugged on his cock. Though, I could think of far worse fates.
Like being stupid enough to lose him for good.
“I’m an idiot for bringing this up now, I know I am,” I confess, apologizing in advance with a kiss pressed against his nipple. “But I need to know…”
The one question I’ve been avoiding up until this moment, dancing around my feelings for him—as well as the shadows looming in his past.
“Who is Irina? Who was she to you? What did she say?”
“Irina…” He sighs, and rolls onto his side, capturing me in his arms, drawing me against him, my back against his chest. His mouth settles against the back of my skull, his hands on my breasts. The heaviness in his voice tempers any lust the position inspires. In some ways, I feel like what It is to Magda—a security blanket, being crushed for comfort. “We were not lovers,” he says into my hair. “I need you to understand that, because when I describe our relationship… It was never sexual. But given the nature of our environment at the time, sex with another was not a necessity.”
I wince, my heart aching for him, as it does every time I try to picture the horrific trappings of his childhood.
“Emotional connection, however?” he continues gruffly. “That was a commodity we both sought with an almost addicted fervor. But not in the way you are thinking. More like… The need to feel superior. Challenged. Our games revolved around the manipulation of others. Our captors. Our clients. We were damn good at utilizing those we could control to the fullest extent—and relishing in that power. It was all we had.”
I slip my arms from his protective cocoon and tentatively stroke the length of his arm, sensing his need for something reassuring. Something to tether him from that darkness. He grunts, gripping me even tighter while lowering his mouth to my throat.
