Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I arch my back, pushing against him. He groans low in his throat, a sound that goes straight between my legs, then cups my pussy with the heel of his palm, pressing to where I ache for him. I meet his gaze. This time, I don't look away from his ice-blue eyes.
"You still think you're in control?" He presses his palm harder, circling. I bite back a moan, aching for more.
"Maybe I am." I don't even recognize my voice. It's so low, so seductive.
Now he's moving again, trailing kisses and bites along my jawline, his stubble rasping against my skin. He shoves aside my panties, sliding his fingers into my wet cunt. I bite back a gasp. He doesn't rush—he's teasing me, ever the strategist, driving me insane. He knows just what moves to make.
"I want you begging," he whispers darkly. "By the time I'm finished with you, you'll forget you ever wanted control, Anya.”
His fingers dip beneath the fabric, and I cry out softly, clutching his shoulders as he swirls and strokes. He has me exactly where he wants me. With him, it doesn't feel like weakness. I feel wanted. Powerful.
He shoves his fingers back in my pussy, stroking in and out.
"Fucking hell." I breathe.
His lips curve into a wolfish grin that makes my sex pulse. "You like that, Anya, don't you? Admit it—you like it.”
I plant my hands on the flat of the steel table, spread my legs, and nod, beckoning him closer.
"I fucking love it. I want you, Semyon."
His control breaks. I want to touch him, but I'm holding onto the table for dear life. It gives me a sort of power when he slides between my legs, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean. Oh my god.
Neither one of us wants to yield, but right now, we're equals, giving and taking. Then his mouth is on mine, devouring, and I lose myself in him. He drags my butt to the edge of the table, keeps my legs spread apart, and unbuckles his belt. I sit up, holding myself upright while I reach for his belt, helping him. We can't move fast enough. I'm afraid if I don't let him take control right now, I might change my mind, and I can't do that. I won't.
It takes both of my hands to take his thick, hot cock from his pants and slide it between my legs. My head falls back at the first slow thrust, the tip of his cock at my center. "Semyon."
He pushes into me, and this time, it doesn't hurt as much as it did before. This time, it feels so good, so right, as if we're meant to be like this together. I feel like a woman. A full-fledged woman. Not Eli's little sister. Not Semyon’s best friend's sister.
Anya Kopolova.
The walls of my pussy tighten around the thick edges of his cock.
"Tell me you like it," he murmurs in my ear.
I bite my lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He pulls almost all the way out, and I moan, reaching for him, arching toward him. I want him back.
"Tell me you want this," he whispers. "Tell me you fucking want this."
"Fine," I grit out. "I want this. I want you. I want us. I want all of it. Fuck me, Semyon."
"That's my girl," he growls. "That's my good girl."
He shoves into me again, and it feels so fucking right. I swear that when his cock hits the back of my cervix, I feel a full-body shudder. Again, he pulls almost all the way out before he slides back in again and again, building a rhythm with friction that makes me want to scream. My fingers dig into his back—scratching, begging, pleading. It's dirty and fulfilling. All I can think of is how much I want more.
He fucks me until I scream his name, until the walls of my pussy clench, and I come, and he comes inside me, his hot seed spilling. I lean back, sated, my clit still throbbing when he falls to his knees and removes his glasses.
Oh my god. He means business when he slides them off.
My mouth is open in a silent gasp as he drags his tongue, hard and flat, across my clit. It feels so wrong, so dirty.
"Semyon—" My fingers grip the edge of the table, white-knuckled. I’m panting, moaning.
He doesn't stop but eats me out, suckling me, and I’m on the cusp of another orgasm. I come again—harder—crying out, my hands diving into his hair, anchoring myself for support, screaming. Then I slump back on the table, spent and exhausted.
But he's not done yet.
I watch as he gets a wicked grin and walks slowly, fully clothed, to the refrigerator. I’m too drunk to ask what the fuck he’s doing, but I don’t trust that smile.