Page 16 of Crimson Curse
“No,” I pant, arching into him. “Don’t stop.”
That’s all he needs. His mouth crashes back over mine, hungrier, and deeper. The taste of him is overwhelming, heady, like drowning in fire. There is no Bratva, no Viktor, no war. Just his mouth on mine.
His hands slip under my shirt, his palms rough and hot as they skate up my ribs. He drags the fabric higher, exposing inchby inch of skin until I’m shaking from the anticipation. His knuckles graze me, setting every nerve alight.
“Arms up,” he rasps.
I obey without hesitation, and he strips the shirt away, tossing it aside. His eyes darken to a thunderstorm, raking over me like he’s claiming me with his gaze alone. He cups my breast through the thin lace of my bra, his thumb flicking over my nipple until I whimper. Then his lips replace his hand, sucking me deep into the wet heat of his mouth.
“Daniil—” My cry shatters in the air.
Ripping my bra off he alternates between teasing flicks of his tongue and sharp little bites, until I’m trembling and clutching at his shoulders.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my skin.
“I’m not scared,” I whisper, though I can hardly breathe.
“Not of me?” His voice wavers, just enough for me to hear the fracture beneath the steel.
“Never of you.”
Something breaks in him, and his restraint vanishes. He tears at his shirt, the buttons scattering, until his chest is bare. My hands fly to him immediately, roaming across muscles and scars. I trace the jagged slash along his side, and the faded burn by his ribs that tell the story of his survival.
I lean in, pressing my lips to them one by one. His breath stutters, his fingers gripping my neck, pulling me back to his mouth.
“Tell me what you need,” he demands, his words a growl against my ear.
“You,” I confess, my voice breaking. “All of you.”
He growls low, one hand diving to the button of my pants. He unfastens them and peels them down my legs, dragging my panties with them. His fingers skim the inside of my thigh, higher and higher, until he brushes over my pussy. I gasp, my body jolting.
“So wet for me already,” he mutters darkly, sliding his fingers through my folds before circling my clit in slow, torturous motions.
“Please, I need you inside me,” I beg, my nails clawing down his back.
“Not yet.” He thrusts two fingers inside me, filling me with a sudden stretch that makes me cry out. He pumps them slowly, curling just right until sparks explode behind my eyes. His thumb presses against my clit in rhythm, dragging me higher, higher?—
“Daniil!” My scream tears from me as I shatter, the climax ripping through me, leaving me trembling in his arms.
He doesn’t let me fall. He scoops me closer, his mouth devouring mine as he frees himself from his pants. His cock, hot and hard, presses against me, teasing and rubbing against the sensitive flesh he just ruined me with.
“Say it,” he orders, the thick head of his cock poised at my entrance. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist. “I need you, Daniil.”
With one brutal thrust, he buries his cock inside me. I scream again, clinging to him as he fills me completely, stretching me until I feel split open around him. He doesn’t move at first. He stays buried deep, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us trembling.
“You are mywife,krasavitsa.You belong to me,” he growls.
Then he begins to move. Long, deliberate thrusts that drag every inch of his cock against me, stroking that perfect spot that makes me gasp, over and over, until my nails claw at his shoulders. His pace builds, each thrust harder, faster, until the desk trembles beneath us.
“Look at me,” he growls, his fist tangling in my hair and jerking my gaze back to his.
I meet his eyes, and it undoes me. The possession there, the raw hunger, the desperate fear of losing me, it’s all laid bare in the storm of his stare.
He pounds into me with a ferocity that feels like a brand, every stroke claiming me, fusing me to him as though he could make us one. My nails dig into his back, leaving angry red trails that draw blood, and he groans like the sting only spurs him on.
“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs, his voice fractured against my throat, his thrusts turning wild, almost punishing.
