Page 28 of Twisted Obsession
Oh, God.
My body convulsed and twisted in fear as I made another desperate attempt to escape. Before I could move an inch, he captured both of my wrists in one of his large hands, pinning them above my head like a trapped, fluttering bird.
His free hand moved deliberately, cupping my most intimate place with a possessive grip. I clenched my thighs, my imagination running wild with the memory of his fingers invading me, the sensation still raw and vivid hours later.
Despite the fear coursing through me, I felt a traitorous warmth spreading, my body betraying me with an embarrassing wetness.
His fingertips danced along the seams of my pussy, a cruel tease, while his other hand gripped his cock. Even in his large, calloused hand, his erection was monumental, the skin taut and flushed with an almost frightening purplish hue, a testament to the blood surging beneath.
He wrapped his fingers around its thick shaft, pumping them up and down in a rhythm that matched the taunting dance of his fingers against my pussy.
I turned my head to the side, squeezing my eyes shut, as if that could block out the reality of what was happening.
“Eyes on me,kukolka,” he growled, his voice a low, commanding rumble.
I shook my head, a silent refusal, a futile resistance.
Without warning, he pinched the tender skin of my inner thigh, his fingers cruel and unyielding. “I said, eyes on me.”
A cry escaped my lips as I turned to face him, my eyes meeting his stern, unyielding gaze.
He stepped closer, our bodies pressing together, his heat scorching me. He rubbed the head of his shaft against me, a harsh, insistent pressure.
“If you had been a good girl,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr, “this would have gone very differently.”
He shifted his hips, increasing the pressure, a silent, brutal reminder of his power. “But instead, you defy me at every turn.”
He leaned over me, his knuckles pressing into the soft flesh of my inner thigh as he guided the head of his cock toward my entrance. “I warned you,” he whispered, his breath hot on my ear.
Tears streamed down my face, my voice a broken whisper. “Please, Dmitri.”
The head of his cock pressed into me, a harsh, insistent invasion. “It’s time you learned who you belong to,” he growled.
He thrust forward, a brutal, claiming stroke.
My back arched, a guttural cry tearing from my throat. “Please. Stop. It hurts.”
The pain was a vivid, searing lightning, splintering through me. I could feel my body stretching and being rent in two around his thick, unyielding shaft as he pushed deeper into my core. When he seized my hips with his hands, I reached out blindly, my nails gouging deep, bloody canyons down the exposed landscape of his chest, fighting the dual assault of pain and unwanted arousal.
He withdrew slightly, then plunged again, delving even deeper. The pain was raw and real, yet my inner thighs betrayed me, clenching around his hips, drawing him closer as my mind wrestled against the magnetic pull of his brutal allure. He pressed his body flush against mine, his open mouth ravaging the side of my neck before he growled, hot and harsh, “Do youfeel that,kukolka? My cock is the only fucking cock you’ll ever know.”
His thrusts quickened, a relentless pistoning. Slowly, my body yielded to his thick intrusion. He reached between us, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, his teeth grating against the tender flesh.
I groaned, my head thrashing from side to side as my body responded to his rough ministrations, craving the cruel pleasure of his touch.
“You are going to give me an heir,” he decreed, before claiming my mouth with his.
His tongue warred with mine, tasting, licking, dominating. His teeth sank into my bottom lip so fiercely that the coppery tang of blood flooded my mouth.
The relentless pounding of his thrusts beat my body into submission. His mouth moved over the edge of my jaw, down my neck, his tongue flicking over the rapid pulse at the base of my throat before capturing the other nipple.
“Oh, God.”
Of their own volition, my hands tangled in his hair, pulling hard. On some primal level, I yearned to inflict pain on him, to make him hurt as he was hurting me.
The sheer mass of his body bore down on me, his weight a primal force pinning me to the table as my legs entwined around his waist, drawing him closer in a dance of twisted desire. I was aching, yearning, pulling him deeper into me.
No scene from a movie or passage from a romance novel could have ever prepared me for the sheer intensity, the all-consuming feeling of Dmitri’s body claiming mine. It was a raw, carnal sensation that sent waves of heat coursing through my veins.
