The Player (The Game Maker #3)(76)

“Please, Dmitri!” I could feel him throbbing inside me! I drummed my heels into his ass.

“You belong to me alone.” When he nipped my neck, my * quivered around his cock. “I want to belong to you as well!”

In spite of my emotions—or because of them—I was about to come, tension gathering inside me.

“Why haven’t you given me a goddamned ring?”

Because this dream had to end.

“Why?”

I threaded my fingers through his hair, tugging him to meet my eyes. It was on the tip of my tongue to cry, “Any move I make is the wrong one—because I’m falling in love with you!” But I couldn’t.

He could tell I was holding back. His fingertips bit into my ass, and his eyes went even wilder. “Fucking give me something!”

When I could only whimper, he abruptly pulled out of me, holding me poised over his cock.

I gasped. “Nooo! Come back—please!”

In a menacing tone, he said, “Do you feel empty inside? Cold?” He looked insane. “It doesn’t have to be this way, does it? What you need is so close you can feel it.”

I mindlessly undulated for him. “Dmitri?” I couldn’t think!

“You are so close to me, Vika, but just out of reach. When I would kill for this—” He rammed his cock home, impaling me.

“Ah, God!” My head lolled.

He bucked his hips, pounding upward. Then again. Deeper. And again. Deeper. He was punishing me, his muscles rippling as he f*cked. “Give me something of yourself!”

My tits rubbed his unyielding chest. My * tightened around him, readying to come. Excruciating pleasure/pressure mounted. Between breaths, I cried, “Dmitri! It’s too much . . . too strong.”

What my body was about to do scared me.

What my heart was about to do scared me.

He shoved into me with all his might. “Give me something! Goddamn it, anything!”

The truth spilled out: “I’m afraid!”

Astonishment. He eased his feverish pace until he was slowly grinding me. He knew I was talking about more than one thing. “Moya zhena, just let it happen. I will always take care of you.” He was talking about more than one thing too. “Can you do that?”

Panting, I said, “I want to. I-I’m trying.”

He nodded. Lips thinned, jaw set, he accelerated his rhythm. He swelled inside me to the limit as he plunged harder and harder, relentless. “Let go, love.” At my ear, he groaned, “I’ve got you. . . .”

My orgasm hit me with the force of a shockwave. I threw back my head and cried, “Dmitri!” That agonizing pressure gave way, wrenching a scream from my lungs.

My mind blanked. I floated; I begged. I dimly heard him telling me I would be his forever. That he would fight for heaven. That I was making him spend so hard I’d feel his cum like a thrust.

I was still climaxing when his shaft pulsated inside me.

His back bowed, his mighty body racked with pleasure. To the sound of his tortured bellows, he shot his hot semen hard and deep—just like his thrusts.





After washing and putting on a robe, I returned from the bathroom. Outside, a breeze swept the fog from the grounds, rain beginning to fall.

Dressed in jeans, he sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He’d done the same on our wedding night, when he’d believed he could never have sex with me. “Did I . . . did I hurt you?” He sounded wretched. “The marks I left . . .”

In the bathroom, I’d run my fingers over them, getting hot all over again. I sat beside him, putting my hand on his back. “Have you seen your shoulders, big guy?” I pressed kisses to the claw marks across one. “I used you for a scratching post.”

He gave a strained laugh.

“You’re not capable of hurting me,” I said without a doubt.

“But I’m not capable of making you content either.” He raised his anguished face to me. “I don’t have any experience with this. Tell me how to make you happy. If taught, I can learn.”

Realization struck, and I knew I’d remember this moment for the rest of my life.

He is in love with me.

No longer could I call it obsession. Or craziness. Over the last four weeks, he truly had fallen. “You are perfect, Dmitri. It’s me and my baggage that’s the problem.”

He drew back with a scowl. “Perfect? Even after what I told you?”

“More so. You revealed a traumatic past you’ve worked hard to overcome. One you’re triumphing over. You’re so much more than your past.”

Sheer adoration shone in his eyes. And Lady Luck help me, I was close to returning it.

“Then why have you grown distant? You tell me little of yourself. You long for your family, but won’t visit them. You get antsy after every gift I buy you, though you know how much money we have. Vika, why are you afraid?”

I would give him part of the truth. “I was raised to believe if something seems too good to be true, it is. And I’m superstitious as hell. Put those two together, and I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Lightning flared outside, as if to punctuate my statement. I warily noted it before returning my gaze to him.

“I don’t understand.”