The Fighter's Prize - Jessa Kane Page 0,8

breath turning to wheezes in my ear. “Oh kotik, is so tight.”

I am astounded by the lack of pain.

Maybe because I was so wet beforehand.

Or maybe because my attraction to Maxim, my eagerness to feel the pleasure I almost reached last night, is overriding everything else. But there’s only a twinge of discomfort.

And then he starts to rock, violent shudders wracking his frame.

A moan breaks from my mouth.

Fire races over my skin. A tickle forms between my thighs.

His sex is reaching a sensitive, undiscovered place inside of me, while simultaneously pressing down on my clit. Teasing it up and back, side to side. “What are you…what is…” I say, making no sense. “Yes.”

“I fuck hard now?” he groans.

“Yes!”

Maxim snarls into action, pumping into me with crude slaps of flesh.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Feels so good,” he grinds out, his warrior’s body rocking the table beneath us, his mouth moving from my ear to my neck to my throat, sucking every inch of skin that arrives in his path. “Ah, kotik. Am I hurting your little pussy?”

“I love it,” I gasp. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes flash with lust. “You like my cock.”

“Yes.”

An exhale rushes out of him. “I’ve been keeping it for you. I have shown to no one.” He grinds into me, presses his forehead down on mine. “Now you will take good care of it.”

I nod. I’m overcome by the overall effect of him as he bucks within me. His flexing shoulders, the sculpted contours of his back. His fighting shorts are halfway down his buttocks and those thick, round slabs hump up and down eagerly, claiming his prize. And my hands travel there and grip, grip his thrusting ass and marvel at his sheer strength.

There’s something happening inside me. A ship has found its moor.

I’ve been taking care of everyone in my life for so long, making sure my father doesn’t gamble away the grocery money, helping Scout pay for classes and books…

I’m always the one who handles things.

And right now, I don’t have to handle a single thing.

I can just be taken. I can be owned.

This man made sure my problem was solved tonight. He just took care of it. And while I don’t ever want to be helpless or completely dependent on someone else…

I like the idea of being totally helpless while he’s inside me.

I like the idea of him being one hundred percent in charge. The man in my life.

My caretaker.

My breath is loud in my ears. “I’ve been keeping myself for you, too, Daddy.”

A sound catches in Maxim’s throat, his driving body slowing down. “Call me that again.”

Heat teases me cheeks. “Daddy.”

That colossal chest heaves, his sex swelling and pulsing inside of me. “You will call me this from now on, Whitney.”

A balm spreads in my chest. “Okay.”

With renewed vigor, Maxim fires back into motion, heightened possessiveness in his eyes. “I told him. I told him in the octagon.” He throws my legs over his shoulders, snaps his teeth at my ankles. Bares down and fucks me brutally. “If he ever thinks about my little Whitney again, I will break his neck. I will murder him with my bare hands.”

“I’m yours,” I sob, a pleasure cord being stroked faster and faster inside of me.

My admission seems to snap something inside of him, send him into a frenzy. “Now I have to come in my little kotik. No condom. Month’s worth of come would break it, anyway.” He folds me in half and pumps in a blur, his features pulled back in a mask of pain. “Hurts badly, Whitney.”

It’s his honesty, his desperation that pluck that final note and my muscles seize suddenly, spine curving, thighs clenching, my sex wrapping tightly around his shaft in quick, wet pulses. And I scream, tears rolling down my temples. Maxim bellows at the sight of my pleasure and scoops into me with one final thrust, flattening me to the table as he ejaculates, his hips squeezing against mine, pain and pleasure seeming to flow through him in equal measure. He chants my name into my neck and floods my womanhood, overflows it and starts to pump again, harder, as if another reserve of his seed has just been discovered.

“More is more is more,” he says raggedly, sitting back and flipping me over onto my stomach. Groaning. “My come drips out of your tiny pussy. It can’t fit more.” He runs a rough finger down the seam of my sex. “You will get it anyway.”

His still-erect shaft spears into me from behind