Devil's Lair (Molotov Obsession #1) - Anna Zaires Page 0,79

statement of fact.

This is happening, and there’s no going back.

The sane part of me wants to run, to shrink back from the dark intensity in his stare, even as something twisted in me revels in his loss of control, in the raw, unvarnished hunger on his face. His smooth black hair is disheveled from my fingers, his lips glistening with my wetness, and the top buttons on his shirt are missing, as if he’s ripped them off.

This is not the elegant, sophisticated man who mandates rigid meal times.

It’s the feral being I’ve sensed lurking underneath.

“I…” I wet my lips, my body clenching on his fingers. “I understand.”

His jaw flexes violently, and then he’s on me, his lips and tongue consuming me as his fingers thrust deeper, finding a spot that makes sparks dance at the edges of my vision. He tastes like the forest, primal and wild, his cedar-and-bergamot scent mixing with the musky undertone of my arousal. Gasping into his mouth, I arch against him, clutching at his sides as he starts to fuck me with those fingers, driving them into me with a hard, relentless rhythm that makes tension skyrocket in my core. I can feel the orgasm barreling at me with the speed of a runaway locomotive, and then it’s crashing over me, blasting me with white-hot, dizzying pleasure.

Panting, I sprawl bonelessly on the hard surface of the table, but Nikolai’s not done with me. Before I can recover, he pulls out his fingers and pushes away from me. Forcing open my heavy eyelids, I watch as he pulls down his zipper and rolls a condom onto his erection.

A very large erection.

I was right about his size. He’s bigger than any guy I’ve known.

A frisson of purely feminine alarm snakes through me, but he’s already over me, gripping my wrists to pin them above my head as he claims my lips in another scorching kiss. The broad, thick head of his cock prods at my entrance, and finding it, presses in.

I’m wet and soft from the two orgasms, but the stretch still burns, my body struggling to accommodate his size as he slides deeper. A sound of distress escapes my throat, and he stills, lifting his head.

Breathing heavily, we stare at each other, and unbidden, his words come to me. Crazy words, about predestination and threads of fate… about the inevitability of us. I still don’t know if I believe it, but I can’t deny the powerful connection that thrums between us, can’t refute that this feels more like bonding than mere sex.

He must feel it too, because the savage fire in his eyes intensifies and his grip on my wrists tightens. “Yes, zaychik…” His voice is a deep, dark rasp. “You’re mine now.”

And with a heavy push, he thrusts in all the way.

The shock of the invasion is still reverberating through my body as he begins to move, his eyes locked on mine. His strokes are ruthless, so hard and deep they hurt, but the pain is soon edged out by a darker kind of pleasure, one that’s only partially related to the fresh tension coiling in my core. Each merciless thrust slams his pelvis against mine, pressing on my clit, but it’s the look in his eyes that drives my arousal higher and sends another orgasm blasting through me.

It’s a look of possessiveness, complete and total, mixed with something dangerously tender and intense.

He comes a few moments after I do, still holding my gaze, and my heart pounds wildly as I watch his gorgeous face contort with the pleasure-pain of his release as he grinds into me, emptying himself deep inside my body.

It’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced, and the most beautiful.

Our bodies are still joined, my wrists held captive in his grasp, when he lowers his head and presses the softest, sweetest kiss to my lips, then lays his cheek against mine, his warm breath washing over my bare shoulder. I want my hands free so I can hold him, but this feels right too, comforting in some strange way. The table is cold and hard under my back, my inner flesh throbbing from his rough possession, but I feel utterly at peace, my rapid breathing slowing as every remnant of tension drains from my body.

I could lie like that for hours, days, weeks, but after a few long moments, he stirs, raising his head to look at me with a tender smile. Releasing my wrists, he carefully withdraws from me and