Page 86 of Cognac Villain

Then I pull out and crash into her again.

Each retraction is an opportunity to leave. To end this. To sever whatever connection exists between us.

But the pull is too fucking strong.

Cora claws at me. Her nails scrape at the bits of dried blood on my arms as she drags me closer to her, rising to meet every thrust with the same desperation I feel burning in my bones.

“Take me.” She wraps her arms around my neck and lifts her other leg to hook around my back. “Take me, Ivan. Like this.”

I watch her body fall onto mine. The way she tenses with every thrust. Her lips are parted, and she draws close. Closer. Close enough that I feel her breath on my face and smell her toothpaste.

She’s going to kiss me again, and I know it will unleash whatever is lurking under my skin for her.

Just as her eyes flutter closed, I slide out of her and pull away.

Her feet slap against the shower floor. “What are you—”

“Turn around.” I spin her and claw at her hips. Red marks map all the places where I’ve touched her, like living tattoos.

She presses her palms to the tile at the very moment I fill her from behind. A long moan works free from her throat.

I press the heel of my hand hard to her lower back, bowing her in front of me. Taking exactly what I want.

This isn’t about her. This is about me.

I lie to myself again and again, thrusting into her as if it has nothing to do with who she is to me.

“Don’t stop,” she begs. “Keep going. Like that.”

I hook a hand around her throat and haul her body up. Her shoulder blades crash into my chest, but she’s still trembling against my body. She’s still straining for the exact right angle.

“Yes, yes, yes.” She punctuates each slap of our bodies with a cry of pleasure that electrifies me. Finally, she gasps. “I’m coming. I’m—”

Her body tightens like a vice around me and, when that happens, I don’t stand a fucking chance.

I spill into her. The leash on my self-control is gone, missing, destroyed—if it ever even existed in the first place. I grip the base of her throat, bite her shoulder, palm her breasts. I explore every remaining inch of her body, milking every possible second of this moment for all its worth.

Cora just rests the back of her head on my shoulder and hooks her hand around my neck as I explode.

Finally, reality comes swimming back to the forefront and I can inhale again. She looses a breathy laugh. “Oh my God… That was… Ivan, that was…”

She can’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t need to.

I know what it was.

I also know exactly how dangerous it’s becoming.

46

IVAN

I sit on the bed as Cora finishes her shower.

The water turns off and, a few seconds later, she pads into the bedroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around her. Considering what we just did, it shouldn’t send such awareness through me. But it does.

Every side of Cora is something new, something I want to collage and keep for myself.

Cora in my suit jacket.

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