Page 54 of The Tsar's Obsession
"Oh fuck, baby, you take it so fucking good.” His uneven voice filtered through my haze. “Fuck, Sunshine, you’re such a fucking filthy slut for me.”
Yes, that's exactly what I was for him.
"Fuck me just like that," I gasped, my cheek pressing into the couch as all my dignity and self-respect died a glorious death. Asharp cry slipped from my lips, pleasure tangled with pain, and my body instinctively tried to shift away from the overwhelming sensation. But before I could move, Kirill’s firm hand pressed down between my shoulder blades, holding me in place, keeping me exactly where he wanted. Helpless beneath him, I surrendered completely.
"No, no, Sunshine," he growled against my neck, his voice laced with possession. "You're all mine now." The deep, commanding tone pushed me closer to the edge. "And I’ll take you however I want. You” —a brutal thrust knocked the air out of me— "will” —another, harder this time "—take. It. All." His words were a promise, each syllable driven deep into me, his cock claiming me without mercy.
And I did. I took it all, urging him on with every desperate moan.
"Don’t. Fucking. Stop," I begged, just like he asked, teetering on the edge of the most intense orgasm of my life. It overwhelmed me fully, ripping a scream out of me, the echo bouncing off the walls straight back into my core, shattering every thought.
My insides clenched around him, pleasure rewriting my very existence, but Kirill didn’t pause. His ruthless thrusts carried me through the heavenly high, dragging it out until I was a trembling mess beneath him.
A deep, guttural groan tore from his throat as he drove in one last time, deeper than I thought possible. His cock throbbed, spilling every delicious drop of his cum inside me.
We were bound together, both in body and soul, tangled in heat and exhaustion. Sweat and our breaths mixed between us, making it all real. He stayed inside me, enveloping me and pressing me into the couch, becoming one. Slowly, his fingers intertwined with mine, and he squeezed tight, as if afraid I would fall off a ledge.
I could have stayed like that for all eternity. I didn't want anything else in life anymore.
It was all a blur. There was no time nor day. I didn’t know which house we were in or what was around us. The only thingI knew, the only thing grounding me, was his hands on my body.
Craving each other, Kirill fucked me again and again, and I still asked for more, never wanting to untangle. There were no more rules; no more boundaries meant to keep me ‘safe.’
The island descended into darkness, and we were in the house alone, no staff, only security never leaving their posts. Kirill bustled around the kitchen like a chef, serving me wine while I watched him from my seat on top of the island counter. I was wearing his t-shirt, smelling like him, drowning in him, only seeing him.
One thought trickled in while I kept my eyes on my new boyfriend’s strong back. I’d never come from penetration before, but with him, it happened every time. The first time it happened, I chalked it up to how deprived of touch I was. But no. No, it washistouch that gifted me pleasure so easily.
The tattoos on his back moved with every pull of his muscles, and he turned, presenting me with a plate of food, perfectly laid out. That sweet gesture was such a contrast to everything else he presented to the world. He fucked like a beast, he was a killer without mercy, he had an army of men at his beck and call, and yet he also cooked for me, arranging the avocado slices carefully to make sure I liked the presentation.
Fuck, he cared. He cared so fucking much, lookingnothinglike the man who barged into my open house a few weeks ago.
He was tamed.
I overpowered a giant, and he lay at my feet, ready to follow my command. I brought him down to his knees literally and figuratively.
And yet…I knew virtually nothing about him.
I sipped on the wine as various questions began popping into my head. "How old are you?" I asked out of nowhere. Considering everything that happened between us, it seemed careless not to even know his age.
"Thirty-four," Kirill answered simply when he finished chewing the cherry tomato I popped in his mouth.
"And when is your birthday?"
"March eleventh. And yours is June first. A great day, the first day of summer."
I stopped mid-chew, wildly wondering how he knew that detail, but then I remembered that he found me knowing only my first name and nothing else. Maybe his research was quite extensive.
"And how old am I?” I probed.
"Twenty-eight," he answered without hesitation, looking down into his glass of wine.
Heat crept into my neck and face. "Do you...know all the details of my life?"
Kirill chuckled at that question and shrugged easily. "I know some things."
He knewsomethings?
"Uh-huh, don't hold back. Did you stalk me...for nine years?" For some reason the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but it was a real possibility. The silence stretched for a few seconds while he collected his thoughts.
