Page 36 of Letters From Victor

“Yes,” I breathed, arching into his touch.

He settled his weight on top of me, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. He was hot and hard, nudging against me. But he made no move to take things further, seemingly content to let the anticipation build until I was mad with wanting.

“Victor,” I moaned. “Please…”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Tell me exactly what you want.” His voice was a low, seductive rumble that I felt all the way to my bones.

“I want you.”

He pressed his hips against mine. “You want me to what?”

The heat of his body seared into mine everywhere we touched, igniting a raging inferno within me.

“I want you inside me,” My voice shook. “I need to feel you, all of you. Please, Victor.”

His lips curved in a slow, sensual smile. “I love hearing you beg for me,” he purred. “Keep going.”

I swallowed hard, desire and desperation overriding any lingering timidity. The words tumbled out in a rush. “I ache for you,” I confessed, my fingers digging into his arms. “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone the way I want you.” My face flushed at my boldness, but I was too far gone to care. I needed him like I needed air. “Please, Victor. Make me yours.”

His voice was gravel and heat. “Spread your legs for me, angel,” he commanded.

I did as I was told, opening myself completely to him.

“Wider.”

My hips ached, but I obeyed happily.

He pressed his tip against me, teasing me with the promise of fulfillment. “Shall I tell you what I want?”

I nodded.

“I want to claim you completely,” Victor growled. “To make you mine in every way possible. I want to bury myself inside you until you can’t tell where I end and you begin.”

He rocked his hips, teasing me without entering. My body trembled with need.

“I want to hear you scream my name as I make you shatter over and over again,” he continued, every word steeped in passion and possession. “To feel you fall apart around me, to know that I’m the only one who can give you this kind of pleasure.”

A shudder of anticipation raced through me. I arched my hips. “Please, Victor.”

“So beautiful,” he murmured, “and all mine.” His voice was low, commanding—dangerous in the way that thrilled me. “Say it, Barbara. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” The words spilled out, raw and certain. “Only yours, Victor.”

With a low groan, he slowly pushed inside me, stretching and filling me exquisitely. I gasped at the delicious burn, diggingmy fingers into his shoulders as I adjusted to his impressive size. Victor stilled once he was fully seated, giving me time to acclimate.

“God, you feel incredible,” he rasped, his voice tight with the effort of restraint.

Victor began to move, slowly at first, with long, deep strokes that made me gasp and shudder. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure radiating through my body as I met him thrust for thrust.

“That’s it, angel.” His voice dropped to a low rumble against my ear. “Take all of me.”

He gradually increased his pace, his hips snapping forward with more force. The room filled with the sounds of our mingled gasps and moans, skin on skin. Victor kissed his way to my neck, sucking and nipping as he drove into me relentlessly.

“You’re mine,” he growled against my throat. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, arching into him. “Only yours, Victor. Always.”

He slammed his hips forward, and I screamed, unable to hold back. I was lost in a haze of sensation—the delicious friction of him moving inside me, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress, the heat of his skin against mine. Every nerve sang. Victor’s pace grew more frenzied, his thrusts deeper and harder. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

---