Page 22 of Hostage with Benefits'

“Most good things in life are, aren’t they?” He stood to tower over me.

He led me back to the bedroom, his hand firm on my lower back. The touch was proprietary and possessive; it should’ve set off alarm bells but instead sent heat pooling low in my belly.

Once inside, he turned to me, his eyes traveling from my face down the length of my body. And the hunger in his gaze—oh boy.

“Take it all off,” he murmured.

I stepped out of my jeans and panties at once and then unbuttoned my shirt slowly, hyperaware of his eyes tracking each movement. When it fell open, I let it slide from my shoulders to puddle on the floor. Standing naked before him, I felt powerful, if only because Mikhail’s face lit up as he took the view in.

“Now you,” I said.

A flicker of amusement crossed his face as he began to undress, wincing slightly when the movement pulled at his injured arm.

When he was naked, he sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned me forward. I approached, standing between his spread knees. His hands settled on my hips, thumbs stroking over my hipbones.

“You make me forget myself.” He brushed a kiss to my neck as he pulled me into him. “Make me forget why you’re here.”

“Why am I here, Mikhail?” I asked, my fingers threading through his hair.

His mouth found mine, and the kiss was surprisingly tender. His injured arm limited him, so I took control and straddled his hips. His cock lay hard against his stomach, and I took him in my hand, stroking slowly.

“Careful,” he warned, eyes half-lidded. “I’m injured, remember?”

“Poor baby,” I teased, positioning myself above him. “Should I kiss it better?”

“I can think of something better than a kiss.”

I sank down onto his cock, taking him inch by inch until he was fully seated. The stretch and fullness made me gasp.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. His eyes met mine, startlingly vulnerable and icy blue. “It’s like you were made for me.”

My heart stuttered; whatever this was, it was too close for comfort. So, instead, I started to roll my hips, setting a pace that would push away any trace of coherent thought from both our minds. His hands guided my hips, his mouth finding my breast, sucking and nipping at my nipples, sending electric shocks straight to my core.

“I should keep you like this,” he said into my skin. “Just for me. Always ready, always wet, always horny.”

The words sent a shiver through me, a dark thrill I didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Would you like that,kukolka?” His thrust upward met my downward motion, hitting a spot that made me cry out. “To be kept in my bed? To be mine?”

“Yes,” I admitted, the word torn from me before I could think better of it.

His rhythm faltered, then resumed with new intensity. One hand slid from my hip to my lower abdomen, pressing lightly.

“I should keep you full of my cum, too,” he said, his accent thickening with arousal. “Until you’re pregnant with my child.”

The words should have been a bucket of cold water. Instead, they sent heat spiraling through me, tightening the coil of pleasure building at my core.

“You’d look beautiful,” he continued, watching my reactions closely. “Your belly round with my baby. Everyone would know you belong to me.”

“Mikhail—” I gasped, torn between shock and arousal.

He flipped us suddenly, ignoring his injury to pin me beneath him. The new angle let him drive deeper, each thrust more possessive than the last.

“If you’d let me, I’d keep you barefoot and pregnant,” he growled against my ear. “Fill you with my cum every night until that happens.”

His hand slid between us, fingers finding my clit with unerring accuracy. “Tell me you want it,” he demanded, his thrusts becoming more erratic. “Tell me you want it too.”

“I want it,” I heard myself say, caught in the heat of the moment.

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