In the end, I didn’t ask him to stop. I didn’t want him to. I needed the pain in some perverse way. I needed to remember Kirill was now more capable of inflicting pain than he was of loving someone.
His hand landed on my bare skin, and the sting burned as he moved to the other side. It wasn’t horrible. Not like it should have been. His hand rubbed a soothing circle, and I found myself pressing into it before it changed tracks and came down sharply again. A soothing circle followed, and my back arched involuntarily into the gentleness.
“You like this, don’t you, Princess?” Kirill asked quietly, his voice holding a tone I couldn’t decipher. It sounded worshipful, but that couldn’t be right, could it?
“Whatever helps you sleep better at night,” I snarled, already clenching for the next strike. He wasn’t wrong, but I’d die before I admitted it.
Seeming to read my mind like he always did, he removed his warm palm. “Let’s check, shall we?”
Before I could protest, his finger hooked the makeshift thong aside and slid down my soaking-wet cleft. I burned with embarrassment. He was quiet for so long that my skin crawled with humiliation.
“Maybelikedwas an understatement,” Kirill said roughly.
His broad finger pressed inside me, making me gasp. Fuck, that was exactly what I wanted, and it felt fucking amazing. He pushed deep inside with his long finger while his thumb traced over the soft pucker above, making me rigid.
“Wait—” I hated how his calloused skin felt against me there, feeling out of control.
“You belong to me, Molly, and that includes every single part of this body. It’s mine to touch, finger, lick – whatever I want to do with it.”
His filthy words only turned me on more, making me so wet that I could feel it dripping onto his hand.
He chuckled. “You like that too, don’t you? You like to be reminded you’re mine.” His thumb, now wet from my juices, pressed inside me, making me cry out. He leaned over me, sinking his digits deeper, and spoke in my ear. “My most precious, perfect possession. Most treasured and exalted,” he murmured as his hand pumped gently into me, taking me in both places at once and making my legs shake. “Do you know how perfect you are, Princess? Do you have any idea?”
I rose quickly, rubbing my thighs together to get some pressure on my clit. He let me ascend higher and higher until I teetered on the cliff he usually brought me to more than twice a day. It was like he’d trained my body to have a Pavlovian response to his. I saw him, I got wet, he touched me, and I burned.
He pulled his fingers from me as I reached for a gut-wrenching peak. I opened my mouth to protest hotly but clamped the words inside. No, I wouldn’t give that engaged bastard the satisfaction of knowing I wanted him.
I chewed my tongue, and he chuckled. “You don’t need to come, Molly?”
I pushed the roaring lust whirling through me down and promised myself I’d come all I wanted later in the cold loneliness of the bed Kirill left me to sleep in every night after he’d had his fill of me. I’d finish myself off, but it wouldn’t be nearly the same. The disappointment was thick, but my pride was more stubborn.
“Very well, Princess,” Kirill said after a moment.
I thought he was done and would send me to my room. Then, pressure pushed at my core as his blunt, mushroom-headed tip glided effortlessly through my wetness. He sank inside me in one swift movement as he slipped his thumb back inside my other hole, making me full as hell.
“Don’t beg. I know what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”
His hips moved fast, fucking me hard against the edge of the table. “Go ahead and touch yourself if you want. With how good and tight you feel, you don’t have long unless you don’t care,” he grunted.
The pressure built as he fucked me hard, and I ached to touch my clit. He would pound me into the table, come, and walk away, leaving me desperate to finish. I knew it. He wanted me to admit how good it felt to surrender and give him power over me—the power to reduce me to rubble.
I wanted to touch myself so badly. I clenched my hands together and interlaced my fingers like I was praying. Kirill’s pause was so slight, I wouldn’t have noticed it if I didn’t know him so well. His disappointment flooded over my skin.
He set a brutal pace, sending the huge dining table scraping along the floor as he drove toward his release. His finger was thrusting perfectly with his hips, and it felt so good that I worried I would come regardless. His hips slammed deep, and he pulsed inside me. His hand landed in my hair, and he yanked my head back, bending me lower than ever.
Kirill came for long minutes, but there was something muted about it like he was dissatisfied. Good, because that made two of us. He pulled out abruptly, leaving warmth leaking down my legs as I pushed shakily from the table.
He tucked himself away and reached for his wine glass, downing the expensive red and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He was breathing hard, and his probing eyes turned to me as I pulled my panties and sweats up my legs.
I crossed my arms over my chest and refused to meet his gaze, knowing he would see too much. “Can I go?” I asked, putting as much arctic chill into my tone as possible.
Kirill’s hand tightened on the glass until his knuckles turned white. I thought he was going to speak, and the floodgates to all my insecurities would slam open. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from laying my heart bare before him.
But he only sighed. “Go. Get out of my sight.”
I turned and made my way hastily toward the door. I cast one last glance over my shoulder to see him standing still as a statue. His eyes were fixed on the place where I’d stood, the empty glass still clutched in his death grip.
I hurried back to my room and burrowed under the covers of my bed. My heart was being pulled inside out, but my body was on fire. I shoved my hand between my legs, smelling the scent of his hard use as I rubbed myself. It only turned me on more. I closed my eyes to relive the table moment, spasming around my hand only moments later.