Page 42 of Echoes of Sin

I laughed and it was a genuine laugh. I knew I was wading into dangerous waters with Ilya right now. We were locked up in his penthouse and the connection we’d shared years ago had returned quicker than I could have possibly expected. This was all starting to feel a little too real. It was terrifying that I was offering comfort to him when he had kidnapped me, despite his reasons.

Even though I knew this was a mistake, that the only way this could end was with my heart broken into millions of pieces, I sat on his lap and stroked his soft hair. I offered him physical comfort because I wanted to, because I needed to.

I offered it because he was Ilya and he’d claimed my heart when I was too young and naïve to protect it.

His hands gripped my hips, and he turned me so we were face to face, my thighs straddling him. “Brooke.” My name fell from his lips on a low, feral growl as he ripped his undershirt from my body. “I need you.”

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. “I’m right here, Ilya.” His words shouldn’t have pleased me like they did, not when I knew how this would end, but they did.

He palmed my breasts with his big hands, squeezing them right up to the edge of pain. He flicked his tongue over one nipple while his thumb grazed over the other in a slow back and forth motion that made it painfully hard. “So fucking responsive,” he murmured before he switched to use his tongue on my other nipple.

My hips bucked forward, right up against where he was long and hard between my thighs, adding needed pressure against my clit. “Ilya,” I moaned, and rocked my hips against his cock.

He groaned and squeezed me tighter, playing with my nipples while he kissed and licked the space between my breasts. He slipped a finger between us, adding even more friction to my sensitive clit. “I need to feel that pussy wrapped tight around me, Brooke. Now.”

“Yes.” I slid off his lap and removed my panties before I tossed them at his chest.

He fisted the fabric in his hand as he brought it to his face, inhaling deeply. “I smell how wet you are for me.” His gaze collided with mine and he fisted his cock, pumping long and hard. “Come wrap that pussy around my cock.”

There was a hard tug deep in my core as I knelt on the sofa and leaned forward to nip his bottom lip. I hovered over his long, thick cock while he continued stroking himself. His gaze was fixed on me as I lowered myself, inch by delicious inch until he was buried deep. “Fuck, yes. Ilya,” I cried out. His cock was so hard and already pulsing within me.

“So fucking tight. So good.” His mouth was on my breasts again, licking the nipples and nibbling the soft flesh around them.

My head fell back as the pleasure overwhelmed me and my hips began to move, in slow circles at first.

“Look at me,” he commanded in a low, rough voice.

My eyes snapped to his, a deep clear blue that pulled me in and held me captive while my hips moved faster and faster, as if he was commanding my body. Our gazes stayed locked as I rode his cock, slowly at first, but as my pleasure built, so did my speed and then my intensity.

“Yes, ride me harder.” His hands went to my ass, gripping me tight and guiding me faster and harder until I took even more of him within my body. “So fucking good.” The way he looked at me, so full of something I refused to believe, only heightened my arousal.

I could feel every inch of him, every vein, every pulse as his thickness filled me so very completely. “Oh god,” I groaned, and put my hands to his shoulders and rode him harder and faster. I took him so deep, it felt as if he was becoming a part of me.

“Brooke.” Ilya grunted my name over and over, leaning forward to flick a tongue over my nipples or to suck one into his mouth while I rode him like my life depended on it. “Brooke,” he called out again, but this time it was a warning.

I smiled. “I can feel you,” I panted. “Thicker. Harder.”

Together, we worked frantically until he was so thick and hard that every stroke pushed me closer and closer until I clamped down hard around him and my orgasm exploded out of me. It was fast and powerful, and I was out of control, leaving Ilya in charge of it.

He flipped me over and fucked me harder and deeper, puncturing my soul as he prolonged my orgasm with his frantic speed. Over and over, he pounded into me until he stilled, and the heat of his cock filled me up. “Brooke!” His hips pumped in slow, awkward jerks as he rode out the last of his pleasure while mine continued in aftershocks that were nearly as strong as the orgasm. “Holy fuck.” He kissed me like I was his, like we fucked like this all of the time.

Like it was normal.

Like this was real.

I accepted his kisses even as I tried to shield my heart from what I knew was happening. I was falling for him all over again, only this time I was older and wiser and I knew better.

But when he pulled back from the kiss and smiled at me like I was his everything, I started to wonder if he felt something too. “Ilya,” I began, just as he slipped two fingers inside me.

“I cannot get enough of you, Brooke. You are mine,” he said, and kissed me while his fingers pumped in and out of me quickly, bringing on one last orgasm that was so powerful I fell asleep almost immediately.

Images of him, of us and the life we could have together populated my dreams.

Even my subconscious knew I was fucked.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ilya

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