Page 30 of Dark Possession
My grip tightens, my lips ghosting over her ear. “I don’t think, sweetheart. I know.”
I drop her hands and reach down, unbuttoning her jeans. She glances at the door, hesitation flickering in her gaze. “Lev, don’t.” Her words are weak, barely a whisper, and even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t stop. I need her to understand. She is mine.
My fingers slip inside the denim, sliding against her heat. She’s already wet for me, but the thought that she might be wet for Sergei has my blood roaring. Possession, dark and absolute, takes hold of me.
With one rough yank, I push her jeans down, revealing black lace panties stretched taut against her skin. My grip tightens as I rip the delicate fabric apart, the sting of the band snapping against her hip and leaving a red mark. I don’t care.
My cock throbs, harder than ever. The need to claim her, to make her feel every inch of my fury, consumes me.
I shove my trousers and boxers down just enough, freeing myself. Without a word, I grab her by the waist, lifting her onto the edge of the desk. She gasps as I drag her forward, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance.
Gripping her throat, I pull her to me, my breath hot against her ear. “You are mine,” I remind her, my voice a growl of raw dominance.
Then I slam into her.
Her head jerks back from the impact, a strangled moan tearing from her throat, but I don’t let her escape. My grip tightens on her neck, forcing her to look at me.
I fuck her hard, relentless, claiming every inch of her with deep, punishing thrusts. She watches me, her lips parted, her fingers digging into my waist. Each stroke is rough, each movement meant to brand her, to ensure she never forgets who she belongs to.
Tension coils tight in my gut, pleasure building sharp and fast. My hold on her throat tightens, my other hand fisting in her hair, dragging her closer as I take her with ruthless precision.
“Say it,” I demand, my voice ragged, barely controlled. “Tell me who you belong to.”
Her eyes, dark and wild, lock onto mine. Her lips part, a whisper of surrender falling from them.
“You.”
That’s all it takes for me to fuck her until I explode inside her pussy, my hand tightening so hard on her throat that I know she won’t be able to take in oxygen. Her body shudders, her pussy tightening around my cock as she comes on me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alina
I DON’T RETURN to Sergei. I ride home with Lev, both of us silent in the back seat of his car. The air between us is thick with the remnants of what just happened. My body still feels the imprint of his hands, the bruising force of his claim, and the confusing, undeniable pleasure that followed.
When we arrive, I move to go to my room. I’m raw from what we just shared—from what he just took.
Lev touches my hand, though, directing me without words into his room. I go without a murmur. It seems he’s not done taking what’s his.
Beside the bed, I pull the sweater over my head and slide the jeans over my hips and down my legs. The cool air kisses my heated skin as I kick my feet free of the heels, push the pants completely off, and stand before Lev in my bra and nothing else.
He ruined my panties earlier.
“Where do you want me?” I ask, my voice quieter than I intend, but steady.
He doesn’t answer, just watches me with brooding eyes, his gaze a heavy weight I can feel on my skin. It makes my stomach clench, makes my fingers tremble where they rest at my sides.
Unnerved, I remove the bra, the lace sliding from my arms, and drop it to the floor. Then, slowly, I lower myself to my knees before him and reach for his belt. The metal buckle clinks softly as I tug it free of its clasp, then unbutton his pants. My fingers tremble as I reach inside, wrapping around the heat of him, the solid weight in my palm. I pull him free, watching as he thickens even more in my grasp.
“Or maybe you want—”
“Stop talking.”
The command is low, rough. His voice alone sends a shiver down my spine.
He’s thick and hard, and above me, a vein pulses in his forehead. He swallows, reaching out with one hand to steady himself against the bedpost, and grips a handful of my hair with the other.
Yeah. That’s what he wants.
