Page 39 of Crystal Wrath
The challenge between us for a heartbeat before something shifts in his expression. The careful control he maintains crumbles completely, replaced by raw hunger that takes my breath away.
This time, when he kisses me, there's nothing gentle about it. His mouth claims mine with desperate intensity, and I meet him with equal fervor. The kiss becomes a battle of wills, a conversation conducted entirely through touch, heat, and the slide of lips and tongues.
His hands roam over my body with reverent exploration, mapping the curve of my waist, the length of my thighs, and the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. Each touch sends fire racing through my bloodstream, and I find myself making soft sounds of pleasure that seem to drive him wild.
He pulls my shirt, shorts, and panties off, throwing them across the room. Without warning, he grabs my thighs, spreads my legsopen, and buries his tongue in my pussy. My mouth drops open in a gasp as his tongue flicks back and forth. I’m already on the verge of an orgasm as his tongue alternates between gliding over my clit and dipping inside my pussy. I wrap my legs around his head, pulling him closer. His hand slides up my body, palming my breast and pinching my nipple. At the same time, his mouth covers my clit, and he sucks hard. An explosion of pleasure rocks through me, causing stars to dance behind my eyes.
Rising from between my legs, he quickly sheds his clothes. He leans over me, kissing me slowly from my pussy to my lips. My body vibrates as I run my hands through his hair, my desire building again in my core.
Renat steps back, stroking his thick, hard cock, his gaze locked onto mine. He moves between my legs, and I lift my hips toward him, desperate to have him inside me. I watch as he slides the head of his cock back and forth across my clit. My body grows tense with need as he teases me.
“Fuck me already!” I cry out, grabbing his cock and trying to force it into my pussy.
His fingers slide around my throat, cuffing me tightly without hurting me. “You’ll wait as long as I want you to,kiska,” he growls as he pushes just the head of his cock into my throbbing pussy. “This pussy is mine, and I’ll do with it as I please.”
He alternates dipping his cock into my pussy and then my ass, driving me to the brink of madness. “Please Renat…” I beg. “P-please fuck me…”
He shoves his entire cock into my pussy, filling me up as he squeezes my throat gently. My back arches off the desk, my nails digging into the hard muscles of his back. He releases my throatand leans in, kissing me deeply and passionately. His fingers tangle in my hair, and his tongue slips into my mouth, matching his thrusts.
His thrusts grow faster and hungrier, and the delicious tension between my legs builds. Tingles and waves of pleasure radiate into my arms and legs as pressure coils in my stomach.
“Yes…please…” I beg, so close to shattering.
Renat buries his face in my neck, his lips and tongue stroking the soft flesh. The muscles in his back tighten as his hips move at a frantic pace. My eyes roll back as my pussy clenches around his cock. He groans into my neck, and with one final thrust, I explode around him.
“Oh fuck! Oh fuck, Renat!” I scream as wave after wave of pleasure shoots outward across my body.
He hisses a curse in Russian as his cock pushes into me balls deep, filling me up with his release. He collapses over me, holding his weight with the palms of his hands flat on the desk. When he finally pulls out his cock, I lay there twitching and jerking like I’ve just been hit with electricity.
My body slowly calms down, and I catch my breath. “This doesn't change anything,” I manage to tell him, though the words feel like lies even as I speak them.
He studies my face with those piercing hazel eyes, searching for something I'm not sure I'm ready to give. “No,” he murmurs, his voice rough and dangerous. “But it changes everything.”
The contradiction makes perfect sense at this moment, surrounded by scattered books, moonlight, and the scent of his cologne mixed with the musk of desire. We've crossed aline we can't uncross, and acknowledged something that's been simmering between us since he barged into my apartment.
I slide down from the desk, my feet finding the floor, though my legs feel unsteady. He doesn't move away, instead he places his hands on either side of me, trapping me against the solid wood while giving me the illusion of freedom. The position puts us eye to eye, and I'm struck again by how beautiful he is, the strong line of his jaw, the way his dark hair falls across his forehead, and the intensity in his gaze that makes me feel like I'm the only person in his world.
“I need to tell you something,” he declares, his voice low and serious. The shift in tone brings me back to reality, reminding me that whatever this is between us, we're still surrounded by danger, secrets, and a world I barely understand.
I nod, not trusting my voice, and watch as he moves to gather my clothes.
After he dresses, he settles into the chair across from mine, the distance suddenly feeling vast after the intimacy we just shared. But his eyes never leave mine, and I see vulnerability there that he rarely shows.
“I didn't rise to power here by accident,” he begins, and I settle back to listen, knowing that whatever he's about to share will change how I see him. “Francesco Bennato didn't always consider me a threat. But when my father died and I inherited the Bratva, I made it my mission to expand and build something stronger than what he left behind. Bennato didn't appreciate the competition.”
I lean forward, drawn into the story despite myself. “You mean your rivalry isn't just business?”
“It's personal,” he confirms, and there's bitterness in his voice that speaks to years of conflict. “To him, I'm an outsider. A foreigner who dared to take root in what he considers his city. He's old school and believes in territory, bloodlines, and control through fear. I believe in efficiency. Ruthlessness when necessary, but not recklessness. I outmaneuver him more times than I can count, especially on the waterfront.”
“Waterfront?” I repeat, the journalist in me immediately curious.
“Real estate,” he explains. “It's not just about buildings. It's about control. Power. Bennato wanted those projects, but I secured them before he could make his move. He's been trying to dismantle my operation ever since.”
I process this information, fitting it into what I already know about Miami's criminal underworld. “And he's using the media, the police, politicians...”
“He owns more people than he should,” Renat confirms grimly. “He's buried men in cement and called it business. I've done worse, but not for entertainment. For survival.”
The admission should horrify me. Should send me running from this room and this man and everything he represents. Instead, I find myself studying his face, looking for signs of the monster he claims to be, and seeing only a man shaped by circumstances beyond his control.
