Page 173 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

I rip her pants and shirt off quickly, leaving her in just her underwear. She’s already dripping wet, absolutely soaked right through her panties.

And me? I’m quivering like I could erupt right fucking now.

One day, I’ll bury my cock past those sweet lips and give her all of me to feed on.

But right now, I need to be inside her the same way I need to breathe.

I reach down, take a fistful of her panties, and rip them away like a scrap of paper.

“Why do you hide beneath all these layers?” I pant down to her from above as I hold them fluttering in my fist. “Don’t you know how beautiful you are? Don’t you know what the sight of you does to me?”

Her nipples are fat and juicy when I tear off her bra. I fall forward and settle my weight on top of her, length to length, eye to eye.

She’s shaking, but I can see that it isn’t with fear. Her nerves are overpowered by pure carnal need now.

She’s not about to stop me. I could do anything to her.

And more to the point…

That’s exactly what she wants.

I grind the head of my cock against her wet slit as I suck a nipple into my mouth. She cries out, her hand twisting into the knots of my hair.

“Oh, Aleks,” she moans.

And then I can’t hold off any longer. No one says my name like she does. I push myself inside her.

She stretches, her warmth enveloping me. “Fuck,” she cries. “Fuck, you’re so big…”

“Take it, little lamb,” I growl. “You can take all of it.”

I grab her wrists and hold them down as I start pounding into her. She whimpers every time my hips meet hers. Her mouth forms a silent O and tension strains across her face.

Then she closes her eyes and surrenders to it.

The crash of our bodies feels like a new experience. Different than the first time, different than any other time I’ve ever had in my whole damn life.

She’s giving herself to me because she’s finally seen what I’ve been hiding from her.

What she does to me.

What she undoes to me.

And I can see clearly what I do to her, as if I didn’t already know it in explicit detail. It’s written everywhere: in the lost, frantic way she tries to cling to me.

In the way she still struggles with her desire, biting back her cries and going silent, only for her pent-up passion to be unleashed in high, desperate screams.

In the way she arches her back towards me, as though she’s trying to bridge the distance between our bodies. As though even an inch of separation is as painful as death.

I push back my orgasm two, three, four times. Only when her walls begin to seize greedily around me do I know I can no longer resist the release I’ve been craving.

I thrust into her hard. So hard that she jerks up towards me.

Her arms wrap around my neck as my lips find hers. For one wild moment, we’re melted into each other. One single sphere of the most intense clench imaginable.

Then the tide breaks and we both collapse beneath it. I destroy her the way I always swore to, unloading again and again with my cock buried to the hilt. Her moans cascade down until there’s no more breath left to give.

When it’s finished, I fall at her side. She curls into me at once. The thought of distance is still painful, even now.

And not just for her.

I wrap my arm and tuck her against my side with her head on my chest.

“If that’s what it feels like to get burned,” she whispers, “I’ll jump right into hell.”

I smile. “Careful what you wish for, little hellraiser. Fire is exciting. But it’s also unpredictable.”

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