Page 37 of Owned By the Russian

“Tell me how badly you want my cock, Printsessa.”

“So badly,” she whimpered, the words spilling out in a quiet, desperate cry. Her body trembled as her fingers circled faster, harder, her hips lifting off the bed in search of more. The tension coiled tight within her, unbearable and consuming, until she slid two fingers deep inside her drenched pussy, the slick heat welcoming them with ease.

Her mind clung to the fantasy?his cock stretching her, filling her completely, the weight of his body pressing her down as he whispered filth into her ear. Each thrust of her fingers mirrored what she craved, harsh and rough, the imagined feel of him driving her closer to the edge. Her moans were soft but needy, her pace quickening as she chased the release she could almost taste.

“Good fucking girl,”he murmured in her ear, his voice low and rough as he drove deeper into her.“Now, be a good little slut and come for me.”

Her breath hitched, the pressure mounting with every movement, her body on the verge of unraveling as her free hand gripped the sheets, anchoring her to the moment.

“Ilya,” she gasped, her voice breaking as her fingers curled just right, sending a shuddering wave of pleasure crashing through her. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop herself from screaming, slapping her pussy repeatedly as she came. Then she collapsed onto the bed, her legs trembling from the high.

And when it was over, her body shaking from release, she lay there in the silence of the room, the reality of what she’d done settling in. She stared at the ceiling, her chest heaving, her hand still resting between her thighs as she fought the embarrassment creeping in.

Even alone, she couldn’t escape him.

Valentina rolled onto her stomach, mortification clinging to her like an unbearable weight as she groaned into her pillow, her face burning.

“Fuck you, Valentina,” she muttered bitterly to herself.

She couldn’t believe she’d let her body betray her like this?fantasizing over a man she despised, a man who thrived on making her life hell. Sure, they had shared a rare moment of civility over dinner last night, even bonded a little. But that didn’t erase the fact that he was still the bane of her existence.

How was she supposed to face him now? Look him in the eye without imagining them dark and hooded, looking up at her from between her thighs.

She groaned again, throwing the covers off and slipping out of bed, sneaking toward the bathroom. The cool tiles under her feet did little to ground her spiraling thoughts. As she splashed water on her face, she tried to focus on anything but him?his sharp jawline, the way his accent curled around words like smoke, or worse, the memory of his nude form she’d caught in the lake.

That was it. That’s what she blamed it on?the lake. She was only human, after all. A woman. It wasn’t her fault that her traitorous body had reacted to the sight of him. She could be attracted to thethingbetween his legs without being attracted to the man himself.

Besides, this stifling proximity wasn’t helping. Being stuck inside these four suffocating walls with him only made things worse, fueling thoughts that had no right to exist.

Her jaw tightened, her resolve hardening. If anything, this was just another reason to stick to her plan, to escape. Before it was too late.

After an unsatisfactory bath, Valentina trudged to the kitchen, still groggy and trying to shake off the last thirty minutes from her system. Fortunately for her, the living room was empty, which meant Ilya had woken up already.

For a moment, her cheeks colored as she pulled out eggs and butter from the cabinets. There was no chance in hell that he would have heard her pleasuring herself to the thoughts of him. She was as quiet as she could be, right?Right?

She shook her head immediately, trying not to think too much. But as she glanced out the window above the sink, her composure faltered.

Ilya was outside, carrying logs over one broad, bare shoulder. His skin glistened faintly, the early morning light catching on his toned muscles as they flexed with every movement. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, just as he set the logs down and grabbed an axe, the simple motion exuding effortless strength.

Heat crept up her neck, and she quickly turned away, scowling deeply as she focused on the stove.Get a hold of yourself, she scolded herself, though her cheeks betrayed her. She cracked the eggs into the pan with more force than necessary, whisking them furiously before pouring them into the hot skillet.

A cup of coffee followed quickly, and she escaped into the living room with her plate, hoping the distance would cool her heated thoughts.

As she sat on the couch and took a bite, her mind refused to quiet.The stupid dream. His stupid presence outside. The stupid, stupid axe.She shook her head, aggressively cutting into the eggs. She heard the back door creak open but didn’t look up, her heart picking up speed as his heavy footsteps echoed in the cabin.

“Morning,” came his voice, smooth and infuriatingly casual.

“Mm,” she grumbled, barely acknowledging him.

There was a pause, then a soft laugh. “Rough night?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement.

Valentina stabbed her fork into her plate, her teeth grinding, but stayed silent, willing herself not to react. From the kitchen, she heard him shuffle about, and then:

“Wait. Did you make breakfast just for yourself? That’s kind of greedy,Printsessa.”

That stupid pet name triggered the memories she was desperately trying to forget.“Tell me how badly you want my cock, Printsessa.”

Her grip on the fork tightened. She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling through her nose, silently praying for patience and, more importantly, self-control. “Go to hell,” she muttered under her breath, her tone low enough to be dismissed as accidental.

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