Page 40 of Auctioned to the Russian Pakhan
It didn’t take long. When he came, it was with a ragged growl, his body bucking, his hands tight in her hair as he spilled down her throat. She swallowed him like she was made for it, slow, savoring every drop.
When she finally rose, her mouth kiss-bruised, eyes lazy with satisfaction, Matvei’s mouth crashed against hers once again, devouring, pulling soft gasps from her lips. He dropped down onto the leather and pulled her into his lap, her thighs straddling him, bare skin against his own
“I want to feel you,” she whispered into his ear, her voice thick with need. “No teasing. No waiting.”
He reached between them, pulling her panties aside again, fingers sliding through her folds. “You’re soaked for me.”
“For you,” she echoed, breathless. “Only for you.”
Her hand moved to his belt, tugging it free with shaky fingers, then unzipping him. She reached inside, finding him thick and hard, and when she stroked him once, slow, deliberate, his breath hissed through his teeth.
“Condom,“ he started.
“I’m on the pill,” she said. “And I trust you.”
It was the way she said it, calm, sure, without hesitation, that broke him.
He gripped her hips, positioning her, the head of his cock nudging against her slick entrance. Irina sank down onto him with a soft gasp, her walls tight and hot, stretching to take him inch by inch.
Matvei groaned low and deep, gripping her waist like she might vanish if he didn’t hold on.
“Fuck, Irina…”
She braced herself on his shoulders, rolling her hips slowly, adjusting to his size. Her nails dug into his skin as she began to move, riding him with a slow, grinding rhythm that had him seeing stars.
She was so wet, so warm, and every squeeze of her muscles made him feel like he was going to fall apart.
“Look at me,” he said, and when she did, those icy eyes glazed with heat, her lips parted in pleasure, it made him ache in ways he couldn’t name.
He slid his hands up her body, pulling the dress down to free her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking softly, then biting just enough to make her shudder. She gasped and rode him harder.
“That’s it,” he growled, his hands on her ass, guiding her pace. “Fuck yourself on me.”
She did.
Every bounce, every grind, every moan poured from her like music, wet and wanton, raw and desperate. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, punctuated by her breathless cries and his low, reverent curses.
She leaned forward, foreheads pressed, breasts brushing his chest as she whispered, “I’m close.”
“I feel it,” he groaned. “Let go. Come for me.”
With a sharp cry, she shattered, tightening around him, trembling in his arms, her entire body pulsing with release.
That was all it took.
Matvei thrust up into her, holding her still as he spilled inside her, groaning her name like a man breaking apart.
They stayed there, foreheads pressed, breathing hard, wrapped around each other.
Sweaty. Spent. Sated.
And something else.
Something dangerous.
Because now that he’d had her, he knew one thing with aching clarity. He’d never be able to let her go.
Later, much later, as Matvei held Irina against his chest on the couch in his private office, he tried to process what had just happened between them. The room was dim, lit only by the desk lamp he’d forgotten to turn off, and the silence felt different now, weighted with intimacy and something that might have been vulnerability.
