Page 32 of Mercenary Princess

He gritted a warning. “You play a dangerous game. Squeeze me like that again, and I won’t be gentle.”

She loved how he looked, so ruthless, the tendons at his throat pulled tight. His chest and every inch of his body was taut from holding back. He eased into her, giving her time. She circled her hips, trying for more of him.

The look he gave her was a warning. “Don’t.”

She swallowed. “Did I ask for gentle?”

His jaw tensed. “You tempt too much.”

She pushed for more of him, and he held her hips down, locking them to the bedding while holding her upper thighs wide. The action made her throb. She tightened around him as she grew impossibly wetter. “Do it. Fuck me like you want to, Viktor.”

He cursed in Russian before accusing, “You like pain, Princess?”

She didn’t, or at least, she didn’t think so. She shook her head. “I’m wetter than you think.”

He held her down until her eyes closed in pleasure.

“You have no idea what you do. Look at me,” he ground out while rocking in and out of her, priming her by flexing those sexy narrow hips.

Her eyes slitted open, meeting his intent gaze a split second before he slammed in the remaining inches.

She cried out in sheer pleasure at being so full. She’d never felt anything like it.

The way he held her down was too much. It made her buck and fight for more, and when she couldn’t move, she came all the harder.

He drove into her, thrusting hard and fast, his eyes on her face as he claimed her body. He used it like she wanted him to until his cock throbbed. The tendons of his neck pulled tight as he buried himself deep, shouting in Russian. She felt him pulsing inside her, knowing thick jets of come would have filled her up if not for the thin barrier of protection. What would it feel like to be full of his hot come?

Jesus, what is wrong with me?

Taking ragged breaths, she threw a forearm over her eyes, hiding her thoughts from him.

He eased slowly from her body, and she felt cold as he left the room, probably to get rid of the condom. Her limp limbs prevented her from the simplest act of covering herself. She was spent and sated in a way she’d never known.

When Viktor returned, he gently eased her beneath the blankets and onto silky soft sheets. She didn’t have the strength or desire to protest when he pulled her against his side with her head resting on his chest. It felt good. Maybe too good.

His fingers grazed her arm in a soothing caress that lulled her nearly to sleep.

After several long moments, he asked, “Have you always enjoyed being held down?”

She felt her skin heat at his question. There was no censure, merely curiosity, one lover discussing the needs of the other. It was probably a normal conversation, but it wasn’t one she’d ever had.

“There’s nothing wrong with what you desire.”

She felt his eyes on her and turned to face him with a sigh. “This is all new to me. This kind of conversation. I don’t know how to do this, Viktor,” she explained honestly. She didn’t have it in her to be deceptive right then. For some reason, she didn’t want to have to be. Not here. Not in her fantasy world.

His fingers didn’t stop moving. “You can trust me.”

That was far more dangerous to her than any fantasy she could discuss. It was intimate.

She bit her lip, not looking up at him. She wanted to share with him, wanted to trust him with her secrets, if only the sexual ones. “I’ve never been held down, but I’ve thought about it.” She’d thought about it a lot. Through the years, her desires and fantasies had evolved. She could blame the celibacy. Or porn. Or both.

“What else do you think you’ll like?” His body seemed to heat beneath her, and she tilted her head to look at him. His question conjured up images of all the dirty things she’d dreamed of him doing to her over the years. All over again, she wanted him, and she wondered if it showed on her face.

His eyes darkened. “Tell me.”

She hesitated and finally shook her head.

He groaned. “In the dead of night, when you play with your pussy, what do you dream, ????????” His kitten.

It was one night. One night to get her fill of him. But how could she share something so personal? He’d starred in the fantasies, but they were hers. “It’s too personal.”

“What if I could give you what you wish, Sophia?” His deep voice was a temptation.

Her face heated as his tone grew lower, coaxing her. “I will learn your secrets.”

Wasn’t that what she was afraid of? Being laid bare. What if he wasn’t turned on by the same things? Either way, a few hours weren’t enough for what she’d dreamed of. She had nearly a decade’s worth of pent-up desires.

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