Page 100 of His Darkest Obsession
It reminds me that I'm not alone. That he's right here even if I can't see him.
"To shield me from the world," I say when I see him again, feeling exposed yet strangely powerful.
Anatoly's gaze burns into mine. "Yes."
In one fluid motion, I pull my dress and bra over my head completely, and toss them somewhere in the darkness of the room. I'm completely naked now, apart from my underwear as I sit on his lap. His cock thunders between my legs and I know he's aching to fuck me as much as I ache to be fucked by him.
"Till death do us part?" I whisper.
"Till death," he answers, reverence in his voice.
I take his hand once more, bring his fingers to my lips, and press a gentle kiss against them while I savor the roughness of his skin.
"You swear it?" I ask, my final question hanging between us.
"Yes," Anatoly breathes, his voice deep and sure.
I take his hand, pressing my lips to his index finger and drag my mouth along its length. His eyes never leave mine as I kiss each fingertip, one by one, while guiding his other hand down my body.
My eyes flutter closed as his palm traces a burning path down my neck. His touch is feather-light, almost reverent as he moves. Down past my neck. Then between the valley of my breasts. A moan punches out of my throat as it continues to move further down, torturously slow as if he's savoring every moment of contact between us.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs.
I take his fingers into my mouth, sucking gently and Anatoly hisses in appreciation.
It's ironic. I'm nearly naked, completely exposed before this dangerous man whom I've watched kill without hesitation. This same man who had come to killmenot too long ago.
Yet somehow, I feel utterly safe like this.
For the first time in all these two years, I don't feel like I need to hide behind a fake name or my blue hair. I don't feel like I need to constantly keep one eye over my shoulder, and instead I can just feel at ease with someone seeing all of me.
Everything from my scars to my hair to my name.
And for the first time, I feel safe enough to let my control dissolve away.
His palm continues its journey downward, skimming over my belly and turning to seek the tiny gap at the edge of my soaked underwear.
I guide his hand beneath the fabric, shuddering against when a finger brush past my aching clit and towards the wet pulsing heat. He knows exactly where to touch and exactly how I want him to move.
One finger slides inside me, then another, and my pussy stretches to accommodate him.
"Anatoly," I fall forward and crash my lips against his.
He kisses me back fiercely as his tongue matches the rhythm of his fingers. My hips rock against his hand, chasing the pleasure building inside me. Now it's my turn to moan and his turn to swallow them as each tiny sound bubbles forth.
His thumb circles my clit, and coherent thought become nearly impossible.
But only nearly.
I still have enough of my wits to break the kiss and press my forehead against his, panting.
"Do you still mean what you said on our wedding day?" I whimper as his fingers take me closer to my breaking point. "That you won't fuck me until I beg?"
He responds by curling his fingers inside me to touch my G spot that sends stars exploding behind my eyelids every time they flutter close.
"Yes,britvochka," he promises, his voice strained with restraint. "I do"
I shower his face in kisses, tasting his eyelids, his nose, his lips, and his cheeks. My mouth scrape over his beautiful features until my face is pressed against his against his and my lips are brushing his ear. Every breath comes out as another short, desperate pants. Pleasure and the dull ache of emptiness build between my legs.
