Page 52 of Sin Wager
He stands behind me, one hand gripping my hip as the other pulls my panties aside. The blunt head of his cock pushes against me and he groans. “So tight for me. You know I can’t stay out of you.”
I clutch the barrel, bracing myself as he drives forward. The stretch is sharp and I cry out, my body straining to take him. He forces deeper until he’s buried in me, his grip unrelenting on my hip.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice low and strained. “You take me better than anyone ever has.”
He pulls back and slams into me again, harder this time. The barrel shudders under my hands, and his breath comes rough and ragged above me. “That’s it. Take every inch.”
He drags my hips back and pushes into me, his cock driving deep on the first thrust. The stretch makes me gasp and claw at the barrel, my body struggling to hold against the force. He sets a brutal rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in. His grip locks around my waist and keeps me braced as he pounds into me, harder each time, his voice rough as he groans. I push back into him, desperate to take him deeper, my breath ragged and broken.
“You feel unbelievable,” he mutters, his hands dragging me harder onto his cock. “You take me so well every damn time.”
The words send a shiver through me. My body clamps down, squeezing around him as the pressure builds. The barrel wobbles beneath my weight as his thrusts become harder, the friction tearing cries from my throat. I can’t hold myself up, not when he keeps driving into me like this, hitting so deep I see stars.
“Come for me,” he growls, his voice breaking with strain. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”
The command rips me open. My release slams through me in violent waves, my body clenching so hard it drags anothergroan from him. I sob against the wood as every nerve lights up, my thighs trembling, my nails carving grooves in the barrel. He keeps fucking me through it relentlessly, his pace rough and unyielding. My orgasm pulls him closer, his cock jerking inside me as his own control breaks.
“Christ, Vera,” he snarls. “I’m going to fill you so deep you’ll never forget it.”
His thrusts falter, then he buries himself to the hilt and spills inside me with a raw groan. Heat floods me as he empties in hard surges, holding me locked against him while his release takes over. I collapse over the barrel, my body shaking, every part of me wrung out and raw. He stays inside me, his hips pressed tight to mine, his breath rough and ragged above me.
At last he pulls back, his hands softening on my waist, his voice low and hoarse when he leans close to me. “You undo me every time.”
Somewhere between gasps and trying to catch my breath, the words slip out before I can stop them. "I love you."
The admission shocks me more than it seems to shock him. I freeze, horrified at my own honesty, but his hands immediately pull me up and frame my face, forcing me to look at him.
"Vera…" His eyes search my face desperately. "I love you too." I don't care what Batya says or how Elvin worries about me. The man looking me in the eye right now means the words he's saying.
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by a different kind of fear. Love makes everything more complicated, more dangerous. Love means there's more to lose.
"I want to protect you from all of this," he continues, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones. "You're innocent in all of this mess. You don't deserve to be caught up in their games."
"I'm not that innocent, Misha…" The sex slides down my inner thigh, but I ignore the sensation as he continues speaking.
"You are. You're good, and you're honest, and you're trying to do right by your family. The people using you—they're the problem, not you."
I want to tell him about the baby. Want to confess that I'm carrying his child and terrified about what that means for both of us. But the words won't come. Not when he's looking at me with such certainty, such protective tenderness. He doesn't realize how much this could mess everything up, how much more risk there is surrounding me now. Sonya is the type of person my father accuses Misha of being, and she won't hesitate to do the very things Batya is afraid of happening to me.
But I can't tell Misha now. Instead, I kiss him again, pouring all my fear and love and desperation into the contact. He responds immediately, holding me close, and for a moment I let myself believe that love is enough. That his protection is real and unconditional, that we can find a way through the web of lies and threats that surrounds us.
God, I want to trust him completely. But as we straighten our clothes and prepare to leave the feed shed, Batya's warnings echo in my mind. No one is that perfect. No one handles pressure that well.
The man holding my hand, promising to protect me from everything, might not be who he seems. But he's also the man who just told me he loves me, who made me feel cherished and safe in a world that's been nothing but dangerous.
Whatever secrets Misha is keeping, whatever agenda might be hidden behind his protection, I'm going to trust him. Because the alternative—facing Sonya and her threats alone—is more terrifying than any deception he might be hiding.
I just hope I'm making the right decision.
For both of us.
And for the baby I'm still not ready to tell him about.
20
MISHA
After dropping Vera off at the employee gate, I find a good vantage point to watch for Sonya, positioning myself at the rail overlooking the exercise ring. The location gives me clear sightlines to the stable entrances and the parking lot—most importantly, it's where Sonya will see me the moment she steps out of her car.
