Page 106 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

“You’re not stronger than me, Liya,” he whispers gruffly. “You never were.”

“I’ve done it before.”

His expression doesn’t change. “Only because I allowed it.”

More panic swells in my chest.

Was it all just an illusion?

Have I been a toy to him this whole time?

I don’t have time to think about it as he nuzzles my ear and growls, “Give in,Lisichka.”

My eyes disappear for the second time. He’s thoroughly plowing me, shame inching its way into my awareness as I realize how much I’ve been wanting this. It would be so easy to give in, so simple to just let him take what he wants…

I can’t give in. I can’t just give him what he wants. I can’t let him know that he’s won.

But I do.

Bit by bit, he wears away my resistance. I can feel the small tremors of pleasure snaking their way from deep within my womb. Tendrils rush through my veins, my nerves. Goose bumps rise up on my skin as Pavel fucks me mercilessly. With each thrust, he erases another thought from my mind. With each thrust, he cuts away a part of me.

My breath quickens. I struggle to free my hands from underneath me, but it’s no use. His cock pulls back and buries itself deep inside of me.

Again. And again. And again.

Heat and lust and shame and anger morph into each other until I can no longer tell which is which. My face is burning. My vision blurs. The smell of sex, the wet, obscene sound of our bodies slapping together, reminds me of what is happening. My lips tremble as I feel myself slowly slipping out of control. I ball my hands into fists, desperate to hold on, but it’s no use.

And then, I break.

I let go of everything. I drop my guard. I lean into the way he drills me, the way his weight keeps me in the perfect position beneath him to be used. As his lips wrap around my nipple, allowing his tongue to sweep over the sensitive tip, I shatter under him.

Someone is screaming—a long wail of sustained pleasure in a piercing note. Only when the pleasure rushes from deep within my body to the tips of my limbs do I realize that someone is me. My vision is white. My ears are ringing.

My body convulses as one wave after another crashes into me, each one stronger than the last. My pussy flexes and pulses around his cock with each deep stroke. When he eases slightly, releasing his hold on me, cold air washes over my body. I reach up, arms heavy and shaking, to cover my breasts. He yanks my hands away.

“I’m not done,” he states. “Keep still.”

While locking my wrists together in one hand, he plays with my clit, circling the engorged bud as he thrusts harder. Before I can stop it, a second orgasm crashes into me, forcing me to arch so hard that it would have been painful if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

Then, with one final slam, he buries himself to the hilt. A surge of wet, delicious heat sears as he floods into me.

And then he pulls out.

No hug. No kiss. No praise for being a good toy.

Just a cold shoulder.

He leaves me sprawled on the desk in a hot mess, hair askew and nipples red from him sucking them. I feel his seed oozing from my cunt. The smell of sex hangs heavy in the air.

He shakes off his cock, tucks it away, and fixes his clothes.

Hewasusing me.

The fucking bastard.

“Fuck you,” I whisper quietly, so quietly that even I’m not sure that I actually say it.

As soon as the shock wears off, I gather my clothes and pull them on. I slide shakily from the desk, testing my legs. Angry or not, having sex with Pavel always leaves me weak and helpless. He usually carries me from one place to another.

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