Lies of My Monster: A Dark Mafia Romance(54)

“What about you?” I whisper.

“I’ll go through a few reports.”

“You should rest, too.”

His eyes darken as they fall on my chest before he slowly slides them back to my face. “Just go.”

I look down and find that the opening of the bathrobe shows a hint of my breasts.

Is that what made his eyes darken and caused his demeanor to stiffen? I don’t really get my answer, but a strange compulsion pushes me to stare at him even as my cheeks catch flames. “I’m not tired.”

“Sasha…” The warning in his deep, somber tone strikes me in my bones. “If you don’t move this instant, you can only blame yourself for what I’ll do.”

My limbs shake, and tingles erupt all over my body, but I refuse to move. If anything, this place right here feels like the best place to be.

A second passes.

Two.

On the third, Kirill grabs me by my nape, fingers digging into my skin, and crashes my body to his.

Just like that, his hungry lips capture my starving ones.

I release a long breath that feels like relief. I’ve been starved for so long, and now that I have his intense touch again, it’s like I’m being struck by lightning.

He threads his fingers in my hair as the hard muscles of his body overpower my softer build. No matter how much I train, I could never measure up to the way his body is built like a weapon.

“Just so you know…” He wrenches his lips from mine and tears away his shirt.

The buttons fly everywhere before the blood-soaked material hits the ground. I’m rewarded with the view of his beautiful tattoos splayed across his rock-hard abs and chest.

His hands travel down, unbuckling his belt. “I’m going to fuck you, Sasha, and I’m going to do it so hard and fast, it’ll hurt.”

Electricity strikes my whole body, but I refuse to move. In fact, my body melts, waiting for his touch. I even undo the belt of my bathrobe.

It should be disturbing that I yearn for someone who not only doesn’t trust me but could also be involved in my family’s death.

But that’s the thing. I don’t think he is.

Kirill is a monster, but he’s not that type of monster.

A lust-filled look passes through his gaze as he removes his belt and pushes his pants and boxers down. His animalistic eyes never sway from me the entire time. He wants to watch me watch him.

It’s a small detail, but the fact that he always insists on maintaining eye contact during sex is one of the reasons why I’ve always felt we have more than a mere physical connection.

There’s an intimacy in the gesture, and, for a moment in time, it’s only the two of us.

I’m lost in the eternal beauty of his naked body. He also has a few tattoos on his thigh that he got a few months ago. There are ravens flying toward his groin. The first time I saw it was when he was getting it, and I had to stand there and stop myself from getting hot and bothered.

My personal favorite, however, is the newest one he got a month ago on his right thigh. A satanic skull surrounded by a beautiful sun.

Kirill throws his glasses aside and wraps the belt around my throat, then he uses it to pull me in his direction. I gasp, but it turns into a moan when his lips devour mine again. Earlier, he was abrupt, but now, it’s more intense, as if he’s sucking the life out of me.

Kirill kisses without a filter. He’s not flirty or gentle, and he’s certainly not trying to pursue me.

No.

He’s simply conquering me.

But he’s passionate and pours all his energy into it, giving two hundred percent like in all other areas of his life. The hard pebbles of my nipples rub against the toned ridges of his chest, causing painful friction.

But none of that matters.

My mind is filled with only one thing—Kirill is touching me again. After months of torture in its worst forms, he’s finally looking at me like I look at him when he’s not paying attention.

The twisted desire that burns inside my chest is reflected in his arctic wolf eyes.

He rids me of my bathrobe so that we’re skin to skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat. Though mine is crazy compared to his. I wish I had the mental ability to control the sheer amount of emotions I have for this man.

Still holding me with the belt around my neck, he lifts my leg to his waist and then pushes. I stumble as my back hits the mattress.

His mouth leaves mine, but the agitation still lurks on his set jaw and stiff muscles. When he speaks, his words are deep, charged, almost completely devout of the control he’s so good at maintaining. “I meant to leave you alone tonight, I really did. But you’re a greedy little whore for my cock, aren’t you, Solnyshko?”

My heart bursts.

I’ll agree to anything if he calls me by that nickname. Absolutely anything.

I honestly thought he’d never use it again, and I almost forgot just how ethereal it feels to be called his sun.

The earth revolves around the sun. But my world is starting to revolve around him, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“You belong to me,” he lets out against my ear and then bites down. He releases the belt and thrusts three fingers inside my starved pussy in one go.

My back arches and everything bursts—lust, longing, and…even gratitude.

It hits me then. He has a hold on my mind, and I think, my heart, too, because it’s beating like crazy.