Unable to wait any longer, I crooked my fingers against her g-spot, forcing an orgasm from her hot little body. Her hands flew into my hair, and she pulled me toward her for a fierce kiss as she came undone.
Her pussy was still fluttering with the aftershocks of her release when she started fumbling at my jeans.
“I want you inside me,” she panted, her shaking fingers finding and freeing the button.
I pushed off her and finished stripping, grabbing a condom from my pocket before tossing my pants aside. When we were both naked, I paused to simply drink her in, my eyes devouring her soft perfection. So beautiful. And all mine.
I sheathed my dick and settled my weight over her once again, lining up my shaft with her wet opening. Her thighs parted, offering herself to me. I pressed my cockhead against her velvet heat, and pleasure shuddered down my spine.
“Allie.” I released her name on a shaky breath, bracing my trembling hand on the bed for support. She felt so fucking good. So warm and soft.
“Mine,” I said through gritted teeth, forcing myself to press into her virgin channel with aching care.
Her entire body quivered beneath me, and her eyes tightened with pain. She whispered my name, and diamond tears slid from her gemstone eyes. I kissed them away, the salt tasting sweet on my tongue as she gave herself to me in every way.
When I pushed in to the hilt, she hissed in a sharp breath, and I forced myself to still inside her. I reached between us and rolled her nipples between my fingers, stimulating her in the way that drove her wild.
I watched with awe as she melted, her body softening and the tension easing from her delicate features. Her arms twined around my neck, and she moved her hips against me, drawing me impossibly deeper.
A low growl slipped between my teeth, and I withdrew slowly, until only my cockhead remained inside her. Toying with her breasts, I pushed back in. She gasped, and her eyes flew wide as the pinch of discomfort finally faded into pleasure.
I began to move within her, taking her with slow, careful strokes at first. But as I continued to play with her nipples and claim deep kisses from her lips, she started to rock against me, urging me faster.
She wrapped her legs around me, drawing me deep inside her virgin pussy. This part of her would always be mine. She would always be mine.
My Allie.
I snarled and drove in hard, rocking her entire body with the force of my possessive thrust. She cried out, her fingers flexing against the back of my neck as she held me close with a desperation that mirrored my own. Her lips were taut against mine for a few brutal thrusts, but as pleasure overtook pain, she began to relax once again.
I pulled back so that I could look down into her lovely eyes as I claimed her for myself. Her cheeks were glowing, her lips swollen from my kiss. Her lashes were dark with ecstatic tears, and her voice hitched as the truth was drawn from deep in her soul: “I love you, Max. I love you.”
Something tore at the center of my chest, a gaping chasm where my heart had been. The full horror of my sin struck me with cruel clarity.
I had betrayed the woman I loved. I’d used her, lied to her. All for power.
Her eyes flew wide, and she gasped my name as her core began to contract around me, forcing my own orgasm from my shaken body. I shouted out in pleasure and anguish, my mouth crashing down on hers so that I didn’t have to meet her shining gaze.
She shuddered beneath me, sighing in bliss as she held me tight.
“I love you,” she murmured, the words cutting me like knives. “I love you.”
I’d betrayed her because I’d wanted to prove that I was worthy, but I’d made the worst mistake of my life. I’d chosen my pride, my bloody birthright, over her. And I could never take it back.
I would never be worthy of Allie.
NIKOLAI
My father sipped at his vodka, eyeing Ron Fitzgerald with his usual stony expression. I knew him well enough to read the contempt in the slight twitch of his upper lip, but Fitzgerald would likely see only a cold, powerful Pakhan. The beloved mayor was fully aware of just how dangerous Mikhail Ivanov was, despite their publicly friendly façade.
We owned Ron Fitzgerald, and he knew it. He knew his place, no matter how hard he tried to relax back into his green leather armchair as though this was a casual meeting between friends.
I sipped at my own vodka, watching the mayor squirm ever so slightly as he fidgeted with his tie. The warm golden lighting in my father’s study glistened over his sweat-beaded brow, and he swallowed hard.