Page 117 of Brutal Reign
Her voice is rough with want. “I need you right now.” She squirms against me, a small frustrated sound escaping her throat as she fumbles with the button of my pants.
“I don’t know. You’re drunk, Mrs. Fedorova. I don’t want to take advantage of you,” I tease, my hands sliding down to cup her ass. She might be buzzed, but I know she’s perfectly aware of what she’s doing.
“I’m not drunk, I’ve been drinking. There’s a difference. And I want you to take advantage of me. Full advantage. I know exactly what I want, and it’s you.”
And that’s exactly what I’ll give her.
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
PAVEL
I’m sodesperate to fuck my wife that I have her stripped naked in two minutes flat. I manage to get my shirt off, but I’m too impatient to bother with my pants. She can do that for me.
Hope is perfection sprawled across my dark sheets. Her skin is pale and flushed pink, hair fanned out like silk. The way she’s looking at me—pupils blown wide with desire and something deeper, something dangerously close to trust—does things to me I can’t ignore.
“You said you want me,” I remind her. My forearms press into the mattress on either side of her head, caging her beneath me. “Did you mean it?”
Her hands find my chest, fingernails dragging down the scarred skin. She nods, breath coming in short pants.
“Then prove it.” I capture her mouth in a brutal kiss, all teeth and dominance. When I pull back, her lips are swollen and wet. “Show me how much you want your husband.”
Something shifts in her expression at that word—husband—and she pushes at my shoulders until I roll onto my back. Thesight of her straddling me, completely naked and unashamed, makes my cock throb against the zipper of my pants.
“Let me take care of you,” she whispers, pressing open-mouthed kisses down my chest, her tongue tracing the lines of my tattoos and scars. Each touch burns like a brand, marking me as surely as I’ve marked her.
When she reaches the waistband of my pants, she looks up at me through dark lashes. “Can I?”
The fact that she’s even asking permission is so fucking innocent it makes me want to corrupt her completely. “Do whatever you want to me, angel moy. I’m yours.”
She works my belt and zipper with shaking hands, freeing my aching cock. I’m already leaking precum, desperate for her touch after waiting all goddamn night.
When her small hand wraps around my shaft, I hiss through gritted teeth.
“You’re so big,” she breathes, stroking me slowly from base to tip. “I still can’t believe you fit inside me.”
I growl, my hips bucking up into her grip. “It’s because you were made for me.”
When she takes me into her mouth, I see stars. Her tongue swirls around the head of my cock before she sinks lower, taking as much of me as she can. The sight of my wife’s lips stretched around my dick, her eyes watering as she tries to take more, is obscene and such a turn-on.
I thread my fingers through her hair, not forcing but guiding. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”
She hollows her cheeks and sucks harder, and I have to fight not to come down her throat right now. She releases me with a wet pop, her hand replacing her mouth as she strokes me with increasing confidence.
“I want to ride you,” she says, and the boldness in her voice makes my cock jerk in her grip.
“I won’t argue with that.”
Hope straddles my hips, positioning herself over me. When she sinks down, we both groan at the sensation.
She gasps, her head falling back as she adjusts to my size. I grip her hips, fighting the urge to flip her over and fuck her into the mattress. But watching her take control, claiming her pleasure, is far more satisfying.
She starts to move, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles that make us both gasp. Her head tips back, exposing the delicate line of her throat, and I can’t resist sitting up to suck marks into her skin.
“Ride me just like that, don’t stop,” I coax, my hands roaming her body, cupping her breasts and tweaking her nipples until she cries out. “Show me how much you need this cock.”
She lowers against me, her chest molded to mine as she grinds down harder. The shift in angle lets me sink deeper, dragging a broken sound from her throat.
