Page 63 of Broken Sins (Volkov Bratva 3)

I can’t resist though. My cock is yearning for more. My hands are damn near shaking. I’m falling to bits and we’ve barely even begun.

This will need to end quickly.

“Come with me.”

I turn and walk over to the pommel horse. It is a low contraption, about waist-high, standing on four legs with a broad leather-bound spine. I point at one end and tell her, “Stand there.”

“Yes, sir.” She has her hips pressed flush against one end of the device and facing the other end. I stoop down and tie her thighs and ankles to the legs of the pommel horse. Now, her lower body is locked in place.

Rising up behind her, I press one hand between her shoulder blades. “Bend.”

“Yes, sir,” she rasps.

I guide her down so that she is bent over the leather spine. Her hands are folded beneath her forehead. I stand still for a few seconds and watch the rise of her back as she inhales and exhales. Then I order myself to keep going.

Striding to the other end, I find the leather ties there and secure her hands to the other set of legs. She is fully captive now, straddling the structure and completely exposed.

I feel like my skin is crawling with ants as I return to the first side of the pommel horse. Normally, I am the picture of calm in these sessions. I live for the moment that is about to come—the first strike, the first reddening of the skin, the first cry out into the silence. But tonight, I am restless and uncomfortable. It takes everything I have not to lean forward and kiss that gorgeous ridge of her hip bone.

“Are you ready?” I ask her.

To her credit, she only hesitates for a moment before she says, “Yes, sir.”

Then I swing the riding crop.

She can’t help but cry out. I don’t blame her. The first strike is hard for anyone, especially someone who has never been here before. But as the flush of her skin deepens and spread where the riding crop landed on her right ass cheek, I almost erupt in my fucking pants. It’s too much, too soon, too wrong, too right. I shouldn’t be here, but I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

To quiet my thoughts, I boom, “Again!” I don’t hesitate before I bring the crop down a second time.

Milaya cries out once more, a wordless whimper that sets my blood on fire.

I don’t know how many times we repeat that cycle before I know that I can’t resist my urges anymore.

I have to touch her.

I drop the riding crop and fall at once to my knees behind her. Her bare pink pussy is wet and glistening. I can still see the bright red welts blossoming on her ass. Without thinking, I plunge my face into her and lap up her juices. My tongue finds her button and whirls as fast as I can muster. When it does, the tenor of her moans changes. It goes from red-hot whimpers of pain she tries desperately to resist, into the half-choked, half-gasped panting of unbearable pleasure.

Before I know it, she’s crying out, “Yes, sir!” as she comes on my mouth. She spasms hard, but the ties are secure and I bound them tightly. I just keep whirring my tongue over her and kissing her center until the aftershocks of her orgasm finally fade.

When it is done, I fall back onto my haunches. Her pussy is still there for the taking if I want it. I could unzip my pants and bury myself in her right here, right now.

But this has gone too far already.

I need to retreat into myself before she makes me do something I’ll regret. I’ve already come too far out of my shell, beyond my boundaries. I have broken every rule I’ve ever had for myself. Because of her. My enemy’s daughter. I shouldn’t give a shit whether she lives or dies. But the longer I stay here bathing in her blissful moans, the more I find that Idocare.

I am no longer in charge here.

I untie her as fast as I can. When she is free, I don’t turn around.

“Run,” I say, still facing the wall. I can’t bear the thought of administering aftercare, of even a single ounce of tenderness passing between us. I need her gone—before she breaks me.

I can hear her hesitation. She wants to know what happened. Why the sudden change? She could see before that I wanted her like she wanted me.

What she didn’t see was that I shouldn’t have ever allowed myself to want such a thing. I’ve gone too far. We have gone too far. This needs to end—now.

“Run,” I repeat. “Run and don’t come back.”

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