Page 50 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

He groans, and it goes straight to my core … but then he chuckles and shakes his head before positioning himself in between my legs.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he says, taking both my hands in one of his and raising it above my head. Then he slams so hard inside of me that it takes my breath away. “But it’s not going to work on me,Malyshka. Praises do nothing for me because I know what I’m capable of.”

I lose my train of thought the harder he piledrives into me, gripping my hands and my hips. I push against his hold, trying to get my hands out and failing. The only thing that comes out of my mouth while fighting against his hold is a choked sound and my eyes roll back.

“You look so beautiful when you struggle for me,” he says in a gruff, breathy voice close to my ear. “But how could I possibly say no to my good girl when she begs so nicely?”

With that, he lets go of my hands and crashes his mouth to mine so hard that I taste blood. His tongue delves into my mouth as hard strokes of his thrusting rocks my body. I moan into his mouth and wrap my legs around his waist, desperately trying to chase the orgasm that’s just out of reach.

“Keep taking it just like that,Malyshka,” he purrs, pounding into me relentlessly. “Your pussy takes my cock so well … I wonder how that pretty ass would take it.”

I immediately silence my moans and stiffen up at this since I’m not used to anal at all. But when he lifts and peers down at me, a sly grin spreads across his face … one that shouldn’t excite me.

“Oh? Did this pretty pussy just clench when I mentioned fucking your ass? Naughty girl,” he chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t worry, we have lots of time to still do that. For now I want to enjoy this…. fuck you’re perfect.”

He wraps a hand around my throat, his thick cock stretching me to my limit as he continues to ram into me. The noises coming out of my mouth borders on a fucking pornstar, but I think I’m past being coy about what he makes me feel.

I want Mikhail. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t and the way he looks at me, the way he commands my body and how he whispers my name reverently… I think he feels the same way.

So I push those thoughts out of my head and drown in what he makes me feel … and it’s fucking glorious.

* * *

Lying next to Mikhail, my heart feels like it’s caught in a tug-of-war between elation and dread. The room is cloaked in darkness, only the soft glow of the bedside lamp outlining the contours of his face.

His eyes are closed, his breathing steady. For a man who lives in a world of constant turmoil, he looks strangely peaceful in sleep.

I should be sleeping too, but my mind won’t stop racing. Every single nerve ending in my body feels exposed, raw, as if he stripped away more than just my clothes tonight.

Last night crossed boundaries I hadn’t expected to cross. He saw me, really saw me, not just as an arrangement or a duty, but as a woman. A vulnerable woman.

My skin feels sensitive, as if touched by a caressing breeze; every inch of me tingling with the aftershock of his hands on me, his mouth, his gaze.

It’s as if he’s peeled away the layers I’ve worked so hard to wrap tightly around myself, and what’s left is raw and exposed. No one’s ever been able to do that, to slice right through my defenses and see me as I am — not even Damien.

And I don’t know whether to run from that or to embrace it.

I stare at the ceiling, at the soft play of shadows there, but all I see is his face. Those piercing, mismatched eyes that always seem to see right through me, making it hard to keep any walls up.

God, it terrifies me. The thought that he can look at me and see all the little cracks in my facade, all the messy, broken parts I try so hard to hide.

I shift slightly in bed, careful not to wake him. His hold tightens momentarily before he exhales softly, and it loosens again. And as I look at his face, peaceful in slumber, there’s a realization that grips my heart in a vise.

I’m dangerously close to falling in love with him.

But falling in love with Mikhail would be like grasping a double-edged sword. He’s not just any man; he’s a man embedded within the dark underbelly of crime, a man who holds power and brutality in the palm of his hand.

How can a man like that give me anything but anguish? How can I trust him to protect my heart when his very existence threatens it? But then … I’ve also seen moments of tenderness, flashes of a man who’s capable of caring, even if he’s loath to admit it.

That’s what scares me the most. Not his darkness, but his light. The moments when he lets his guard down, if only for a second, and I catch a glimpse of the man he could be—the man I could easily fall for.

I know I’m close to falling, closer than I’ve ever been to that precipice. The drop is love, and the landing, I fear, would shatter me.

A tidal wave of thoughts crashes over me, thoughts of what a future with him could look like, thoughts of what it would mean to love a man who could one day become the Bratva Pakhan, if he’s not already?

I know what the logical, rational decision is. I should pull away, distance myself emotionally before I get in too deep. And yet, every fiber of my being rebels against that thought.

I’ve spent so long distancing myself from emotions, distancing myself from the prospect of love because of past scars, traumas that felt like they were written into my very DNA.

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