Page 72 of Cruel Russian King
“I want my husband to fuck me,” I cried out as he pinched my nipple again.
Artyom rose up over me. “Wrap your arms around your legs and hold yourself open for me, printsessa.”
Eagerly, I obeyed. Artyom bent his head and lapped up my pussy juices as he squeezed my clit.
Holy fucking crap!
I exploded all over his tongue as he threw me over the edge, but he didn't stop. My legs shook and I could barely keep them up. When he lifted his head he kissed me again and I tasted myself on him.
With one movement he drove his cock into me and I cried out in pleasure.
“Fucking God yes…”
“This will always be my cunt, won't it?” He ground out as he pounded into me.
“Yes!”
As his cock continued its brutal assault inside my pussy, his fingers worked my clit mercilessly…rubbing hard, pinching, tugging…sending my entire nervous system into a frenzy of pleasure and pain.
I shattered again, my cries echoing off the walls and Artyom followed soon after.
When it ended, my arms and legs slipped uselessly to the sheets. If someone had pressed a gun to my head at that moment, I still wouldn’t have been able to move. Artyom slid out of me and kissed me tenderly.
Without a word, he scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bathroom. He tested the water, then we stepped in, with him supporting me. He squeezed some of the bath soap onto his hands, lathered it then gently worked it over my skin. When he was done, he quickly washed himself.
When I thought we were going to step out of the shower, he pressed my back to his chest, his hand wrapping around my throat.
“Mine,” he said huskily.
Then worked my clit until I broke again, my cries ringing out. My knees buckled, and his grip tightened. He reached over and switched off the shower before scooping me into his arms once more.
He carried me back to the bed, taking a towel along. After sitting me down, he dried me, before drying himself. Even softened, his cock was still something terrifyingly beautiful.
Artyom pulled back the covers, slid me beneath them, and climbed in after me. He pulled me into him and wrapped his arms around me. I nestled into him, stroking his chest as he ran his fingers along my arm, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
I wanted this. I wanted him. More than just sex. I wanted the pull between us to be real, something deeper than lust clawing at my veins. Yes, he was jagged, scarred, rough where his past had broken him, but that was what made him a feared and respected Bratva leader. It was what made him…him.
I knew he would take care of me, in every way that mattered, in and out of the bedroom. Now that I’d tasted him, he seeped into my soul like a narcotic. One that I knew was dangerous, but oh so satisfying. I couldn’t let him go. I didn't want to.
I loved him.
Wait…
I sighed.
He said that I was his. Legally, I was because I was his wife. And I couldn't help but wonder if he loved me or if this was just him claiming me as his property.
Ninel, stop overthinking and putting words in Artyom’s mouth. Give him time.
Even if he did love me, I knew love wouldn’t be enough. Not if he kept warring with my brothers. Not if we were standing on opposite sides of a battlefield.
I looked up at him.
“Artyom?” My voice was soft.
He shifted so his eyes met mine.
“Yes, Ninel?” His face was unreadable.
