Page 53 of Chained Fate
A finger of his other hand is probing at my back entrance, using the wetness from my orgasms and his saliva to push into my ass, slowly but inexorably, advancing a millimeter at a time.
My heartbeat quadruples, scorching heat rushing over me, making me feel dizzy.The sensation is so strange, so foreign and… andwrongthat my eyes pop open and I arch off the bed again, gripping his hair instead of the sheets.The dark locks feel thick and silky between my fingers as I tug on them, trying to pull his head away.
“Alexei…” My voice is breathless and a little panicked.“What… are you doing?”
He lifts his head to look at me, but he doesn’t remove his fingers—not the three in my pussy and not the one that’s slowly penetrating my ass.His lips are wet and shiny, his coal-black eyes gleaming with possessive hunger.
“Don’t worry, Alinyonok…” His voice is a low, dark croon.“I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”
And if I don’t want you to?
I’m tempted to ask, but I don’t know if I want to know the answer.Would he stop if I told him to?And… would Iwanthim to stop if I said so?Because maybe, just maybe, a tiny, deeply unfeminist part of me likes the imbalance in our relationship, the one that gives him all the power, all the agency… all the responsibility.
No, that’s crazy.And yet, I don’t ask the question.I don’t speak at all—partially because I can’t.As Alexei lowers his head and resumes licking my folds, I’m overwhelmed by the sensations, bombarded with a mix of intense pleasure and growing discomfort, the burning stretch in that part of me where entry feels so wrong.It’s just his finger, but it’s still too much, too invasive, a strange, too-full feeling that makes me squirm and gasp, clenching tightly against the steadily advancing pressure.
“Relax,” Alexei urges hoarsely.“Push out…” And when I attempt to do so, he breathes, “Yes, just like that… Let me in… Good girl.”
His finger is all the way inside my ass now.Combined with the three in my pussy, it feels like I’m stuffed to the brim, so full I’m about to burst from it.It’s odd, and uncomfortable, and… a perverse turn-on, especially with the attention he’s paying to my oversensitive clit.Panting, I clench again—and then, with a keening cry, I come, fireworks exploding in my core and dancing over my skin, leaving me shaken and breathless, so limp and drained I’m barely conscious.
But Alexei is not done with me yet.Leaving his finger in my ass, he moves up over me and claims my lips with a fierce kiss before entering me with his cock.The usual thick stretch from his shaft is exacerbated by the foreign sensation of that finger, and I shudder, my inner muscles spasming as aftershocks from the orgasm assail me, one after another.The squeezing sensation must feel good to him because he groans low in his chest and pushes all the way into me, lodging himself so deep that I cry out, digging my nails into his shoulders.
He pulls back halfway and lifts his head.Shakily, I open my eyes and meet his gaze.His eyes are midnight dark, burning into me with ferocious intensity.
“Say it,” he demands in a low rasp, and somehow, I know what he wants.What he needs from me.
“I love you.”The words spill from my lips like water from an overfilled cup.“I love you, Alexei, with everything I am.”
His eyes flare with nuclear heat, and I wait for him to say it back, but he doesn’t.Instead, he kisses me again—a deep, rough kiss that devours—and then thrusts back in, starting a slow, steady rhythm.And then… oh, fuck.I forget all about the unsaid words as he begins to move the finger in my ass, in and out, matching the thrusting pace of his cock.
The sensations are unreal, so raw and carnal and intense that my eyes roll into the back of my head, my heart racing dangerously fast as violent heat scorches me from within.It’s overwhelming, too much and not enough at the same time, and I hear myself begging, pleading for him to stop—no, to keep going.The tension gathering inside me is enormous, unbearable.It fills my core until I’m vibrating like a plucked string, every muscle in my body taut and straining.I’m on the precipice of something huge, something that’s going to shatter me.I know it, I feel it.And then… it’s there.
A tsunami of pleasure slams into me, ecstasy erupting in every nerve, every cell.A white glow engulfs my vision, and a cry rips from my throat as I convulse, over and over again, my body spasming around him until, with a guttural groan, he comes, his thick shaft jerking inside me for what feels like an hour.
I’m so thoroughly destroyed that I barely register it when he pulls out of me some time later and disposes of a condom.Hazily, I wonder when he had a chance to put it on, but the thought slips away, my eyes closing of their own accord as exhaustion claims me, dragging me into the land of dreams.
Chapter27
Alina
My first couple of weeks at our new house are a marathon of unpacking and settling in, in between visits from Alexei’s family and mine.Alexei’s aunt, Sonia, spends several days in Moscow after the funeral, and we see her almost every day, along with Ruslan, who comes over when she does.By the end of her visit, I’ve almost gotten used to her eccentricity, and I can’t deny that it’s fun to observe her relationship with my husband and his brother, both of whom she treats with a bossy sort of affection that must be a leftover from when they were kids.
“I told you to let me make my cabbage soup for Alina,” she chides Alexei after I make a face at being offered a salad of dandelion greens for lunch.“It’s just what she needs, all the good, healthy?—”
“Aunt Sonia.”Alexei’s tone holds more than a hint of amusement.“You know as well as I do that your cabbage soup is mostly lard.”
She bristles.“There’s less than a quarter kilo lard in there!How else do you get flavor with cabbage soup if not with lard?”
“So, so many ways,” Ruslan mutters, not looking up from his plate, and she swats him on the arm.
“Oh, shut it.I swear, you young people don’t know what good cooking is.I mean, whatisthis stuff?”She lifts her fork with a piece of dandelion leaf speared on it.“In my days, we called this a weed.”She waves her fork in front of Alexei’s face.“Tell me the truth… Did you pluck this on the side of the road?”
“It was grown in the purest organic soil in the best greenhouse in Moscow,” Alexei informs her.“Harvested this morning and delivered straight here to ensure maximum freshness.”He catches my gaze.“Try it, Alinyonok.It may surprise you.”
I heave a sigh.“All right.”Kale, I can tolerate, but these bitter greens… Still, I shovel in a forkful of salad, if only to show that I’m on Alexei’s side in this argument.I donotwant to have to eat cabbage soup that’s mostly lard; I still have awful memories of my late grandmother, my dad’s mom, force-feeding me her version of this Russian classic when I was three or four.
The salad is surprisingly good.The miso-based dressing is sweet and savory, masking the bitterness of the greens, and chunks of orange and avocado lend acidity and creaminess to the dish.
It’s as flavorful as anything served in a top restaurant, and I tell Alexei as much.
