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“Have I ever told you how much I love your back?” The soft, dark timbre of his voice is soothing, yet unnerving. “So toned and graceful, like a ballerina’s. My favorite part of you, though, is this ass.” His palm curves over my cheek and squeezes lightly. “So tight and round and perfect… so fuckable.”

My heart jumps again as he pulls me up to a sitting position and props my back against his chest, banding one powerful arm around my ribcage to hold me in place as he drags the dress down my torso. He’s handling me like a human-sized doll, and there’s something perversely erotic about that, something that appeals to a part of me that I try not to think about… the one that’s not put off by the darkness in him but drawn to it.

I’m not wearing a bra, and as he pulls the dress down to my waist, my naked breasts pop free, spilling onto his forearm, my nipples already peaked and aching. A low growl rumbles in his chest, and he bends me back over his arm in that way he likes to do, the one that makes me feel like a human sacrifice, an offering to a fierce, primordial god.

His hot, wet mouth closes around my nipple, and I gasp, gripping his head as he bites down, sending fire streaking directly to my clit. My nerve endings riot in confusion, the pain and pleasure blending until I’m desperate for more. And he delivers more, repeating the treatment with my other breast, alternating between sucking on the nipple and using his teeth on it. By the time he lifts his head to meet my gaze, I’m panting, burning from arousal.

I need him. I need him so fucking much.

Forgetting all about my fears, I pull his head to mine, and our lips fuse in a hard, deeply carnal kiss, our tongues tangling as I respond to the violence of his need, matching him stroke for stroke, bite for bite. I don’t care what he does to me tonight as long as I can have more of this dark, dizzying pleasure, more of what I crave.

We’re both breathing raggedly by the time he breaks the kiss and lays me flat to work the dress down my hips. It refuses to come off easily, so he rips it at the seams, too impatient to care that he’s ruining yet another pricey gown. And I don’t care either, not with the tension building rapidly inside me, not when every part of me burns for him.

When I’m dressed in nothing but a thong, he flips me back onto my stomach and stuffs two pillows underneath my hips before working the scrap of fabric down my legs. Then he reaches over to the right, and I hear a drawer open.

My trepidation returns, briefly overruling my arousal. I strongly suspect I know what he intends to do, and I’m proven right when I glance over my shoulder and see the bottle of lube and a small butt plug in his hands. Still, my heart jackrabbits into my throat, my ribcage tightening around my lungs. “Nikolai, I…” I gulp in air. “I’ve never… that is—”

“Never been fucked in the ass?”

My face heats unbearably, his dirty words further knocking me off kilter. Somehow, I manage a small nod, and his lips curve with primal male satisfaction as he says softly, “Good,” and drizzles cool lube between my ass cheeks.

I gasp, clenching instinctively as he presses the plug to my opening, and he pushes my head down on the bed. “Relax, zaychik.” His voice is rough velvet and dark heat. “I promise you’ll enjoy this.”

I want to object—the one time my ex-boyfriend tried to put a finger in, I hated every second—but this is Nikolai, whose mastery over my body is frighteningly total. In his embrace, I lose all sense of self, much less what little sanity I still possess. So I keep quiet and do my best to breathe through my nose as the tapered, rubbery tip of the plug presses in, pushing past the tight ring of my sphincter.

Slowly, it slides in deeper, and I stifle my groan against the mattress, overwhelmed by the strange sensations. As that other time, there’s an almost nauseating fullness, a feeling of being stretched and penetrated, invaded in an unnatural, uncomfortable way. But there’s also something more, a peculiar type of pressure that makes my pulse soar and my insides tighten—a sensation that grows stronger as Nikolai leans over me, covering me with his big, hard body, enveloping me in his sensual male scent.

His breath warms my ear as he kisses the sensitive crook of my neck, sending pleasure chills down my arm. At the same time, he wedges one hand underneath my stomach and finds my clit while beginning to slowly fuck me with the toy. Immediately, the pressure intensifies, transforming into an erotic tension, a dark, heated pleasure that collides with the discomfort and somehow grows from it. His fingers on my clit, the toy in my ass, his lips on my neck—it’s sensory overload, a seesaw of pleasure and pain that rocks back and forth, each time cresting higher.


Tags: Anna Zaires Molotov Obsession Billionaire Romance