Page 46 of Stolen Empire
The climax rips through me, sharper this time, deeper, pulling a cry from somewhere I didn’t know existed.
My muscles clamp around nothing, shaking so hard my vision blurs.
He keeps me there, his tongue dragging slow, greedy strokes until the pulses turn to aftershocks and I’m trembling against the wall.
I can feel my pulse still racing under his mouth when he finally eases back, his breath warm against the slick heat he’s left behind.
Dimitri rises, his chest brushing mine, the air between us hot and charged.
His hands slide up my thighs, fingers curling into my hips as he presses closer, the hard length of him grinding against my belly through his pants.
I can feel how badly he’s shaking, the strain of holding himself back.
He catches my chin between his fingers and forces me to look at him.
"I’ve thought about this since the night I met you," he growls, "and I'm going to enjoy your sweet pussy for every single second you give it to me. Who knows? Maybe you'll want it a second time."
He unbuttons his pants with one hand and frees himself.
He’s thick and heavy, the head sliding against my slick skin as he finds me.
The contact makes my knees weaken.
He steadies me with a hand at my hip, eyes locked on mine.
"Tell me if I hurt you," he says, even though his tone makes it clear he already knows he won’t.
Then he pushes inside, slow but steady, stretching me inch by inch.
My breath catches.
The pressure is sharp, then melts into heat.
I grip his shoulders, nails digging in as he sinks deeper until he’s buried to the hilt.
He groans, and the sound vibrates through both of us.
"Christ, Katya… you feel like you were made for me."
I suddenly feel desperate to have his skin against mine, his chest bared to my touch, so I claw at his buttons, feverishly working them as he starts moving.
The first thrust is cautious, then another, deeper.
The sting fades, replaced by something overwhelming.
My head tips back against the wall as he moves faster, his hips snapping forward, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the kitchen.
Each drive pulls a new sound from me—half cry, half plea.
His shirt falls open, chest crushing my tits, but the heat of it is exquisite.
Dimitri is exquisite.
I'm in heaven being fucked by the Devil.
He braces one arm beside my head, the other gripping my thigh to keep me open for him.
"Look at me," he growls, breath ragged.
