Page 19 of Thorns of Love
“We still haven’t talked about the buttplug issue,” he said nonchalantly, his gaze on my ass making me even more turned on. “We’ll discuss that tomorrow.”
My pussy clenched although I was unsure whether it was from his words or the way his gaze burned as my pussy and ass clenched.
He took a step closer and kneeled onto the bed, right behind me. He dragged his cock along my wet slit and I gasped, pushing my ass against him so he’d slide inside me.
Then remembering his buttplug comment, I felt obliged to say something back.
“I’m not discussing the buttplug with you today… tomorrow… or ever,” I breathed, my moans in between my words ruining the effect.
He chuckled darkly, fires burning in his eyes melting everything in their wake.
“You and I both know you’ll like it. You want to be mine to fuck in every way. Your body craves my cock in all your holes.” My body shuddered in betrayal, but he seemed to like it rather than mock it. He dragged his palm down my back, his fingers tracking my spine like he was playing a piano. “You want me to own you and control you so you can fall apart.” He grabbed my hair and tugged it back in a merciless grip. “But only with me. I’ll murder any man who sees you like this, never mind touches you.”
Then his calloused hand landed on my ass on a sharp slap as if he needed to punish me for something I hadn’t done yet.Slap.The burn exploded on the skin of my ass and zapped straight to my core.
There was no point in complaining because a gush of juices trickled down my inner thighs and a moan shattered the air. This chemistry was mind blowing. The kind that you only read in books. Yet, here it was. In this room. On this bed.
Illias knew how to own my body. His every touch, every word never failed to turn me on. But I’d rather die than admit it to him. It’d give him ammunition against me. Although I feared he didn’t need it. The evidence of it was trailing down my legs.
My pants and moans mixed with the loud hammering of my heart that I feared it would crack my ribs. However, it never occurred to me to ask him to stop.
His hand slowly parted my thighs as far as they could go and the second his fingers brushed against my soaked pussy a violent shudder rolled through my body.
“That’s my good wife,” he purred, then lowered his face to my core from behind and to my horror, he inhaled deeply. “Fuck, you smell so good. You…” His hot tongue swept through my core, from my clit to my back hole. “You are my addiction.”
I buried my face into the pillow, every inch of my skin burning. From the lust speeding through my veins, threatening to break the dam.
My breathing was hard, like I just ran a marathon. Fractured breaths. Chopped heartbeats.
“Are you ready, moya luna?” His voice was hoarse. Deep. A hint of control tethering on the edge lacing around his Russian accent.
He wrapped a hand around my throat and pulled me up, so his chest was against my back. Then he forced me to turn my face over my shoulder. The haunting darkness and possession in his eyes was daunting, leaving me panting and my heart drumming like a hammer against my chest.
“I’m going to fuck you now.” His words vibrated through his chest and against my back. His lips brushed against mine, then he took my earlobe between his teeth and nipped it. Hard. “I’m going to fuck you as my wife, sealing our marriage. And you… you’ll scream my name.”
He planted his knee between my legs and thrust into me from behind without a warning.
“Ahhh…”
My head fell back, resting against his shoulder. He pulled out, only to slam inside me again as he reached around my body to twist my swollen clit.
“Ohhh… yes.”
“That’s it. Give me all your screams,” he murmured against my ear. My eyelids peeled open to a painting that hung over the bed of the airplane cabin. I couldn’t distinguish a single thing about it because all I could do was stare at the reflection of us against the dark glass that protected the painting.
Illias’ eyes were hooded, the expression on his face one I had never seen on a man. His pace built up. His teeth on my neck. The slap of flesh against flesh. The slick sounds of my arousal echoed in the air and fragranced the room.
Then his eyes darted to the painting and our gazes locked.
He owned my body, thrusting harshly at a fast pace bringing me closer and closer to the peak.
“My wife has such a needy pussy,” he growled into my ear. “I’ll take care of it.”
And he did.
Illias pounded into me and I feared he’d tear me apart. Break me. But he promised to put me back together. His thrusts were so rough, my body threatened to fall forward but his hand held me in place. His other hand reached up to play with my sensitive nipples - rolling them, pinching them and kneading my breasts.
A tingling sensation blossomed deep in my belly. My breaths came out in short pants. My moans in a louder symphony.
