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Torrid by Nikki Sloane (17)

16

Panic burst from Oksana’s lips. “Vasilije, no!”

Because I was a sick fuck, I faked confusion. “You don’t want me to leave you a virgin?”

“Stop. Please.”

She was asking me to stop touching her, and a dull alarm went off in the back of my mind. I was a monster, but I wasn’t going to force myself on her. The plan was to twist her around so many times on the inside, she’d do it herself. I’d already convinced her body, but I’d make her believe she wanted me.

I skated my palms up her back and leaned forward so I could grab her biceps and yank her upright, crushing her back against my chest. Her hair smacked in my face and strands caught on my whiskers, and I brushed them away.

The curve of her neck was fucking sexy, and I moved without thought, wedging my head beside hers, edging her to bend her neck and allow me access. My mouth was on her, licking and sucking the spot below her ear. My hands roamed over her body. I’d touch her everywhere else until she asked me to stop there, too.

She rasped for air and shook. I liked the position, but hated I couldn’t see her, and took one hand off to fumble around for the TV remote nearby on the couch. It took the system ten long seconds to boot up, so I bit down on her earlobe and breathed in her ear. It was seduction, which I didn’t need to do with her, but for the first time ever, I enjoyed it. Her soft sigh was loud in the quiet room.

A few buttons were all I needed to press before the camera to my PlayStation leapt to life, and the image of us filled the giant screen across the room. We both froze as our gaze locked onto the television.

“God. Fucking. Damn,” I said.

Her face was flushed, maybe from being half upside-down, or maybe from shock when I’d threatened to fuck her ass. All she had on was the see-through bra, which just made her amazing tits look even better. I couldn’t keep my hands off her. I shoved my fingertips beneath the cup of the bra, and let my other hand glide down over her smooth stomach toward her pussy.

“Put your hands on top of mine,” I ordered. She needed to feel me touching her in every fucking way. “Move them how you want me to touch you.”

She did it so slowly, it was painful and amazing. My dick was in agony locked in my jeans as her hands closed on top of mine. I shifted to one side so I could see better around her body, and watched both lust and nerves battle on her face. But my hands began to move under her suggestions, which were too timid to call commands.

Down our fingers went. Over the hollow of her bellybutton. Into the stubble above her pussy. And finally, the sweet spot that made her melt and her eyes hood. Her fingers pressed mine, urging me to grind against her soaking pussy. I straightened and set my lips on her shoulder while I began to stir.

Her moan was better than any porn star, not just because it was real, but because I was causing her the pleasure.

“Yeah?” It was so low from me, it was barely loud enough to call a whisper. “Right there, baby?” I stirred faster, and her breathing hurried to match my tempo. “Are you watching?”

I knew she was, because, fucking hell, how could she not? The girl writhing in my lap was too hot to ignore.

The lighting in here was shit. There were shadows, and her hand covered mine so it was difficult to see everything onscreen, but my strong forearm moved with a steady rhythm. The tendons flexed beneath my skin as I massaged. There was no doubt what I was doing to her, and her throaty moan announced how much she liked it, even if her face said she didn’t want to.

I gripped one of her tits, and she hung onto my hand, not to pull it away, but to encourage. I sank my teeth into the side of her neck, wanting to give her both pleasure and a hint of pain at the same time. She rose up on her knees an inch and swiveled her hips, fucking my hand.

Jesus, she was so sexy, it fired through me like an electric current.

“That’s it, get what you need,” I said. She made a tight sound, a desperate whine. I could hear her ache. “You’re so fucking wet, it’s running down my fingers.”

I picked up speed, going as fast as I could, rubbing her clit back and forth, and made it hard for her to breathe. Hopefully, hard for her to think. She gasped and bucked, like her body was beyond her control and she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. I was as urgent and desperate for her release as she was. Maybe more.

“Oh my God,” she cried, the words streaming together. “Ohmigod, ohmigod—”

“Shut up and come. Now, Oksana.” Through the bra, I pinched her nipple as hard as I had earlier in the dressing room, and it catapulted her over the edge.

She screamed, and her quivering body sagged against mine, heavy as the orgasm surged. Her struggle to find air competed with the cries of pleasure that ripped from her throat, and I damn near came in my jeans listening to it.

Knowing I was the only man who’d made her come? It unleashed something territorial and primal. I wrapped my possessive arms around her shuddering body, holding her as she slowly came down from her climax. Her head lolled back, resting on my shoulder, and with her eyes closed, she looked blissed out. Like the feeling I got when I’d bought exceptionally good weed.

I was anxious to feel that kind of pleasure. Her breathing hadn’t even slowed to a regular pace before I made my demand. “Get on your knees. Suck me off.”

I shoved her off my lap to help her along, dumping her to the floor. Like last night, she gaped at me, and this time I wasn’t going to waste her mouth’s invitation. I undid my zipper and got my cock ready. Not that it needed any help. I was hard as steel.

I snaked a hand behind her head and dragged her into my lap, pushing her mouth down around me. Searing heat enveloped my tip and descended as she took me between her lips. Had she taken notes last night? It was only her second-ever blowjob, but you’d never know it. Fuck, her mouth. Her tongue. Hot as hell and better than heaven.

The leather of the couch squealed as I slumped down and spread my knees wider. I gathered her hair up in my hands, holding it back and using it to guide her pace. “Slow,” I murmured. “Good.”

So fucking good.

My gaze bounced between her and the mirror image of us onscreen. She was kneeling between my legs, and her toes peeked out from beneath her ass, which was barely pink anymore. The back of her head bobbed at a deliberate crawl, just as I’d dictated.

I focused back on the live image. My thick cock disappeared between her lush, pink lips. Her eyes were pinched closed and her brow furrowed in concentration as she sucked. She looked amazing like that, but I needed all of her.

“Eyes on me.” Did she notice the stumble in my voice? It was getting harder to pretend she had no effect on me. Her intense eyes fluttered open and settled on mine. “You look at me when my cock’s in you.”

Her blue irises seemed to deepen in color, but it had to be a trick of the lighting.

The idle tempo teetered on the edge of torture, and I pushed on her head, showing her I needed it faster now. And it was like she knew what I wanted next. Her hand gripped me at the base, and she slid it along my shaft like I’d done last night.

“Tighter,” I said. I dropped my grip on her hair with one hand, tipped my head back on the couch, and put the hand on my forehead. My heart thundered in my chest. Did she have a direct link to my lungs? As her grip tightened on my dick, my body constricted from the pleasure.

The soft sucking sounds graduated into loud, sloppy noises as wet skin moved through wet skin. I bucked my hips, sliding my dick in and out of her mouth, faster with each thrust. The sensations built, rolling like a stone down a hill, picking up speed. “I wanna fuck all the Russian from your mouth.”

If she didn’t like hearing that, I couldn’t tell. She matched my tempo, keeping up with me as I pumped my hips, fucking her face. Need screwed me tighter until I was so tense I couldn’t speak. I jerked her roughly by the hair, back and forth, up and down. I needed it deeper. I needed it faster. I needed . . .

She gagged, but it fed into my enjoyment. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come.” I exhaled loudly, and a tremble crawled up my spine. “I’m gonna . . .  Shit. Oh, shit, I’m coming.”

Pleasure ripped from my center and tore through me. It was a white-hot flash of euphoria that fucked with my breathing and my heartbeat. It felt like I was so high, I was never going to come down.

As I pulsed and filled her mouth, pleasure zipped along my cock from base to tip, and then repeated. Each wave was less powerful than the last, and left me weak. When I came, that was the closest I got to being powerless.

I sucked in a deep breath and began to even myself out.

Oksana had frozen with her lips still wrapped around me, and it took me a second to realize what she was doing.

“Swallow,” I said. When she did, it gave me an aftershock of pleasure and I jerked, half-laughing at the crazy sensation. It was thrilling she’d waited for my command, and she might have just given me the best BJ of my life. I mean, how the fuck was that possible? I had to be a phenomenal teacher.

She retreated off me, but I still had hold of her hair, and wasn’t done looking at her like this, her kneeling between my legs. Under my direction, she tilted her head and laid her cheek against my thigh, her big, doe eyes staring up at me. Her parted lips were damp and swollen, and she took in deep breaths as if I’d worn her out.

Or maybe looking at me was doing that to her, making her out of breath. I liked that idea.

One push of the power button on the remote shut the entire system down, and the TV screen went dark. I kept hold of her hair, dropped the remote, and cupped her face with my free hand, brushing my thumb over her lips. She blinked lazily as I pressed it inside her mouth, and she did what she was supposed to. Her lips closed around it and sucked. I’d just come, so my cock was out of commission, but my orgasm had done fuck all to take away the lust.

“Tomorrow,” I said, “when I get home from work, you’ll wear that ‘wedding night’ shit I bought you, and my robe. Be sitting on my bed at six o’clock, ready for me.”

I withdrew my thumb and smeared the wetness over her lips as I watched anxiety and excitement flash through her eyes. Yes, I answered her unasked question. Tomorrow I claim what’s mine.

The rush of my orgasm left me both lax and awake, and apparently goddamn chatty, because the words spilled out. “You asked if it was satisfying killing the guy who shot my father. Thing is . . . Ivan didn’t do it.”

Her posture straightened. The question was on her face, but before she could ask, she seemed to suspect the answer. Her shoulders tensed.

“Yeah.” My lips curled in a lifeless smile. “My dad was a piece of shit, too, and it was satisfying as hell to put a bullet through his head.”