Page 83 of Fierce Pursuit

“If I don’t?” I asked, daring him to take this even further. Testing my own boundaries.

He pulled back a bit, to torture me.

“If not, I’ll punish you.” A slow, measured thrust. “I won’t let you come.”

Another thrust. My fingers curled against the marble, my legs threatening to give out.

“I will spend hours touching you, stretching you, until your legs are shaking, until your pussy is weeping, but I will refuse to give you what you need.”

A helpless whimper slipped from my lips.

Fuck.

He meant it.

He fucking meant it.

And I couldn’t take that. I needed him to satisfy me now.

He was still fucking me, but just barely.

Shallow thrusts. Perfect, agonizing pressure against my G-spot, but not enough.

He was playing with me.

Breaking me down.

I pushed against him, trying to take what I needed, but he only pulled back, keeping it just out of reach. The pressure inside me built higher, unbearable, searing. My nails clawed at the marble, my breath ragged.

I needed it.

I needed him.

“Please,” I gasped. “Please, Kostya. Fuck me.”

His grip on my hair tightened, fingers threading through the damp strands, yanking my head back until I was arching for him.

A low, pleased purr rumbled from his chest.

“Good girl.”

CHAPTER 22

KOSTYA

Her body clenched around me, a tight, desperate vice, and my vision whited out.

I thrust into her harder, deeper, chasing something that had always been inevitable.

Thank fuck she broke for me.

She said what I needed to hear not because I didn’t already know.

I had always known.

Her body had told me in a thousand ways—every gasping breath, every slow, aching roll of her hips, every slick, trembling inch of her yielding beneath my touch.

She had always been mine, long before she understood it herself.

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