Page 183 of Inevitable Endings
“One,” I gasp.
Another.
“Two.”
By five, my legs are shaking. He drags a finger between my thighs, chuckling at the wetness coating them.
“This is what you wanted. Filthy little girl soaking herself just from sucking her devil’s cock.”
“Yes, sir.”
He pulls something from the drawer. I hear the snap of leather. The flogger. A soft warning kiss to my shoulder.
Then the first strike.
The leather lashes over my back, sharp and beautiful. I moan. My eyes roll.
He doesn’t stop.
He paints me in sting and praise.
“You take pain so well.”
He leans in, his breath still hot on my skin. “My own personal submissive slut,” he murmurs, voice gravel and satin. “Only for my eyes.”
A slow smile curves my lips, defiant, teasing, breathless. “If I’m your personal slut,” I pant, “you don’t pay that well. I could be rich by now.”
He pauses, then chuckles, a low, dangerous sound that slithers down my spine. He pulls back, his gaze smoldering with something darker than amusement. From the pocket of his slacks in the corner of the room, he retrieves a black leatherwallet, worn at the edges, unmistakably expensive.
He moves closer again. Then, smoothly, deliberately, he pulls a sleek black Amex card from the folds and slides it between my lips.
“Three-seven-two-nine,” he says quietly.
I hold it there, eyes wide, pulse screaming through my throat.
His gaze doesn’t waver. “Memorize it,solnyshko.’’
He kisses my neck again, slow, possessive, like he’s claiming every inch of me. I moan, soft and broken, the sound slipping out before I can stop it. The card slides from between my lips, falling to the bed beside me like a dropped jewel.
“I should have kept you in that basement and fucked you every night.”
He leaves me like that, naked, panting, cuffed to the bed, my skin still stinging from the leather’s kiss, body pulsing with need and surrender. I watch him through the veil of my lashes, barely able to catch my breath.
The tattoos catch the low light—black snakes, Slavic script etched across the ridges of his abdomen, every line of ink sharp, brutal, deliberate. His body is a map of violence and vow, of battles won and lost, and now, it’s mine.
He positions himself between my legs. Presses himself against my heat.
“You ready to be destroyed?”
“Yes, sir.”
He drives into me in one brutal thrust. My cry echoes off the walls.
He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t hold back.
He pounds into me, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing with my moans. The cuffs rattle. My body bends to his will.
“Say you’re mine.”
