Page 86 of Darkest Oblivion
His belt hit the floor with a clatter, his trousers following, his cock springing free, hard.
“I’ve waited so long for you, milaya,” he said, his voice raw, as he climbed onto the bed, his weight dipping the mattress.
He pressed me down gently, his lips finding mine—not the violent devouring of the art room, but a slow, searing kiss that deepened into hunger, his tongue claiming me with a possessive edge.
His hand trailed down my body, fingers grazing my thigh, sending a jolt through me as they circled my clit, already slick with want.
My body jerked, betraying my need, and he smirked against my lips.
“This will hurt,” he murmured, his finger pausing at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine, searching for hesitation.
I nodded, my breath hitching.
It was our first time—his as much as mine—and the thought sent a thrill through me, mingling with fear.
He slid one finger inside, slow and gentle, the sting sharp but fleeting.
My body tensed, a soft gasp escaping as he pulled back, kissing me deeply, his lips a distraction from the pain.
He pushed in again, deeper, my body pulsing with a mix of ache and pleasure.
A loud moan tore from my throat, my hands gripping the sheets as he began to thrust, slow at first, then faster, pain and pleasure weaving together in a dizzying dance.
He added a second finger, stretching me, his lips sucking mine with a desperation that felt like he was pouring his soul into me.
Then a third, the intensity overwhelming, my pussy clenching around him as pleasure cascaded through me, driving me to the edge of insanity.
“God, milaya,” he groaned, his voice rough, his fingers relentless.
He pulled them out, slick with my arousal, and used them to trace a heart on my stomach, the gesture so tender it sent butterflies fluttering through me, a stark contrast to his dominance.
He positioned himself above me, his cock pressing against my entrance, his eyes locked on mine, intense.
“Look at me,” he commanded, and I did, my breath shallow as he slid in slowly, filling me, stretching me until I felt consumed.
His hand wrapped around my throat—not tight, but possessive—anchoring me as he pulled back and thrust in hard, a moan ripping from my lips.
The sensation was overwhelming, pain and pleasure colliding as he fucked me with an intensity that set my body ablaze.
My breasts shook with each thrust, and he bent down, taking one nipple into his mouth, nibbling gently, then harder, his teeth grazing as he continued to pound into me.
The dual assault—his cock deep inside me, his mouth on my breast—drove me wild, pleasure so intense I thought I’d faint.
He moved to my other nipple, sucking hard, his hand still on my throat, his groans vibrating against my skin.
“Damn...” he growled, his voice raw with need, as if he’d starved for this, for me.
He fucked me like a man possessed, relentless, his pace unyielding, and I took him just as fiercely, my body matching his hunger, my nails digging into his back.
He kissed my stomach again, soft and reverent, then flipped me over with a swift motion, his hands gripping my hips.
He slid into me from behind with a loud growl, his cock hitting deeper, pain surging through me as I moaned his name. “Dmitri!”
He thrust again, harder, deeper, the heat of our bodies consuming the room.
“Say you’re mine, Penelope,” he demanded, his voice a low snarl, his hands tightening on my hips.
I could barely speak, my mouth open, moans spilling out as the intensity built, pushing me closer to the edge.
