Just as I felt a tendril of panic, he drew back. His smoldering eyes scanned my face, gauging my every reaction.
Though the hot water had long since run out, I began to sweat. The stretch burned—too big, too big—so I raised myself up on my toes to buy some time.
He shook his head slowly. “Take it.” His free hand seized my hip to hold me steady.
I inhaled for courage. Once I’d relaxed a degree, he murmured, “My good girl,” then continued his inexorable possession of my body.
I felt pain—no surprise, considering his size—but I could bear it. When I’d accepted as much of his shaft as possible, when he was seated deeply inside me, he went still again. Though I sensed in him a ravenous lust—the urge to thrust must be lashing him—he somehow harnessed his aggression, battling his most primal drives.
Even as his neck corded with strain and his muscles shook.
Even as I could feel his c*ck throb inside me with every beat of his heart.
Voice a harsh grate, he said simply: “Moya.” Mine.
At that moment I was completely his. I was joined with him, impaled by him, and there was no escape. Like I danced along the edge of a volcano about to blow—or gazed up at a rupturing dam.
“Moya.” He drew his h*ps back, then eased them forward. The pain faded, and in its place came a hint of something so incredible—
He did it again.
My lids went heavy as wonder suffused me. Rapture. Fullness. Connection. With his next measured thrust, I breathed, “Oh, my God.”
“You like that, pet.”
Adore. “I never knew.” My hands relaxed their death grip on his shoulders and began sweeping caresses over his sculpted back.
“My woman’s getting so wet.” Another roll of his h*ps had me sinking my nails into the rock-hard contours of his ass.
When I began to move with him, he bit out, “You want more?”
“Yes, God, yes!”
He lifted me with an arm looped around my back. “Hold on to me. Legs around my waist.”
When I locked them there, possessive hands cupped my ass, forcing me to slip back down his slicked cock. His shaft hit me at a new angle, and my eyes went wide. The pinch was fleeting; the pleasure mounted.
“Surrender, Natalya.”
I gave a cry, and did. Tonight I was his without reservation.
His golden eyes held me rapt as he surged against me, into me, c*ck thickening even more. When my ni**les raked over his muscular chest, I tightened my arms around him, unable to get close enough.
He was inside me; I wanted to be enveloped by him.
His wicked, tattooed body was working mine, controlling my pleasure, heightening it in every way. The marble on the undamaged wall was smooth against my back. I slid up and down against it, slid up and down his throbbing length.
I was already racing toward my orgasm when his words ghosted over my ear: “You’re giving me such a hot, wet clutch . . . about to steal my cum from me before I’m ready.”
He was as close as I was? Even in this position, I began to meet his thrusts, writhing on his cock, grinding my swollen clitoris against him.
He gnashed his teeth. “Stop, milaya. Or I’ll come.”
I was too far gone to stop; surely we both were. I squeezed my legs around his waist so I could undulate faster, harder. Water collected at the tight seal where our bodies met, my feverish movements sending it sloshing.
He splayed his fingers over my ass, grating, “Said . . . to stop.” He dug into my curves to hold me in place, but his punishing grip just turned me on more.
Mindless, I panted, “Oh, God, oh, God!”