Destiny Mine (Tormentor Mine #3)(88)
He throws me on the bed face down, and I scramble to turn over as he steps back to remove his own clothes. I glimpse a flash of metal and hear a heavy thud as he throws aside his jacket—was he armed at our wedding?—but then my focus shifts to something far more dangerous.
The expression on his face.
His eyes are narrowed, his nostrils flaring as he undoes his belt, and in the jerkiness of his movements, I see the violent hunger that’s always there, the dark, savage need that also pulses in my core.
He’s going to hurt me tonight, I can feel it, and my insides clench on a wave of fear and lust. I should run, should protest, but my body acts of its own accord, my legs propelling me off the bed to kneel on the carpet in front of him, my hands reaching for the zipper of his tuxedo pants.
“Yes, that’s it, come here,” he mutters under his breath, his hands fisting roughly in my hair as I open the zipper and push down his pants, freeing his erection. He’s already fully aroused, his cock long and thick, so hard the veins are popping out along the shaft. It’s a weapon, that cock, but also a tool of unimaginable pleasure, and my mouth waters as I stare at it, remembering how he choked me with it—and how it made me burn.
He pulls my face closer and slaps his cock across my cheek. Once, twice, a third time. I open my mouth on the fourth slap and catch the tip, sucking it in as I meet his gaze. The familiar musky taste further heats my core, and my left hand snakes between my legs while my right one reaches up to cup his balls.
His face twists with ferocious pleasure as I squeeze him gently, and he thrusts deeper into my mouth, his fists tightening in my hair. “Fuck …” he groans, his voice low and rough. “Keep doing that, just like that.”
I obey, letting him fuck my throat as I massage his balls. At the same time, my left hand rubs my clit, my thighs quivering with growing tension as I find the right rhythm. His pupils dilate further, his hips moving ever faster, and I’m close, so close when he grits out something in Russian and abruptly pushes me away.
Startled, I fall backward onto my palms, and before I can recover my wits, he grabs me and throws me on the bed again.
“You’re not getting off that easy,” he growls, and I suck in an unsteady breath as he loops his belt around my wrists, securing them to the headboard, and then moves down my body, his strong hands pulling apart my legs.
“What are you doing?” My heartbeat is so fast I can barely speak. “Peter, please, you don’t have to—”
“Hush,” he breathes against my thigh, and I gasp as his teeth graze across my labia before his tongue pushes between my folds, unerringly finding my throbbing clit.
The ignition is nearly instant. Fire licks through my veins, and I arch, screaming and pulling on the belt as the delayed orgasm crashes over me, making my entire body spasm. But my tormentor is not done. His tongue gentles, softening just enough to let me ride the aftershocks, and then two rough fingers thrust into me, finding my G-spot. I cry out, spiraling again as his tongue resumes its devil’s work, and it’s not long before I come again.
He’s still not done, though, his talented mouth moving up my body, dropping burning kisses on my belly and breasts, sucking on my nipples and the sensitive part of my neck. And all the while his fingers stay in me as his thumb works my clit, bringing me to the edge again.
His lips meet mine just as I start to come, and I moan my release into his mouth, tasting myself on his tongue as he deepens the kiss. My muscles feel like they’ve liquified inside my skin, my wrists raw from tugging on the belt, and yet he still fucks me with those two rough fingers, all through my climax and beyond.
I’m on the verge of yet another orgasm when he lifts his head and withdraws his fingers, only to move them lower, smearing my wetness all along the way. I squirm, realizing what he’s planning, but he’s relentless, and I cry out, my eyes squeezing shut as his middle finger finds my back opening, the slickness from my sex acting like lube as the finger pushes into me, past the resistance of clenched muscles.
He’s taken me like this before, but it’s been over nine months, and his finger feels as enormous as his cock, the edges of his nail abrading tender tissues. My heartbeat spikes, my breath catching in my throat as he withdraws the invading finger slowly, only to have it joined by another.
“Peter…”
“Shhh.” He kisses me again, and as the two fingers press on my opening, making me tense in panic, his thumb finds my aching clit. The orgasm that all but receded rockets back, the tension cresting with explosive force, and as I come, moaning helplessly, the two fingers push all the way in.
I tense again, but it’s too late, and all I can do is breathe shakily as he stretches my tight passage, making it sting and burn. The fullness is unbearable, invasive, yet underneath the discomfort is a promise of something more, and my body contracts in orgasmic aftershocks, chasing that darker sensation.
“Yes, that’s it, ptichka,” he breathes against my lips, and I shudder as his thumb finds my clit again. I can’t come another time, it’s impossible, yet my body doesn’t realize that it’s spent. The tension gathers in my core, winding it tighter, and I’m on the verge of orgasm, trembling and panting, when the invading fingers pull out of my ass.
I groan in frustration, tugging on the belt and arching my hips, and he laughs softly, the sound low and dark as the mattress to the left of me dips.