That’s what I do, after all. I’m a master of pain. Pleasure can’t happen without it; there needs to be a balance between the good and the bad.
The pretty and the ugly.
And Anastasia doesn’t seem to mind it, the bites between the licks, the nibbles between the sucks. If anything, she’s getting lost in it as deeply as I am.
The need that explodes in my groin is unmistakable. I’m so hard that it’s painful, so painful that my trousers can’t contain it. She must feel my erection against her soft belly, because her eyes open wide, even though my tongue is playing with hers, even though she’s still shuddering like when I licked away her tears.
And the way she looks at me?
f*ck.
It’s like she wants me to repeat it all over again. She wants me to be the only one who makes her tears stop and lick them away.
She wants to cry for me so I’ll confiscate those tears and have them for my own.
And that’s not something I should wish for or want. It’s not even something I should be thinking about.
Yet, deep down, in the dark corners that I spent decades trying to squash, there’s a part of me that wants exactly that.
Worse, that part might want something even more nefarious. Something that I’ll probably regret once this whole thing is over.
But that time isn’t today. So I don’t allow myself to think as I pull away from her mouth. Her lips release mine slowly, leaving a trail of saliva between us and sticking to her lower lip.
So I lick it, darting my tongue out to get all of it.
“Knox…” she whispers, her breath hitching as my tongue leaves her lips.
“Shhh.” I turn her around so she’s facing the wall and keep my hold on her throat. “I’m going to need you to be real quiet for me when I f*ck you, beautiful.”
15
ANASTASIA
I think there’s something wrong with me.
With him.
With us.
Otherwise, why the hell am I so hot and bothered like never before?
And it didn’t start just now, no. This overstimulation started when he pinned me against the wall, grabbed me by the throat, and licked away my tears. He darted his tongue out and licked them all away. I should’ve been repulsed, should’ve flinched away or attempted to stop him.
But something much worse happened.
I liked it.
Every lash of his tongue was as if he was lapping at my puss*, parting my legs to get more access.
And when he thrust his tongue inside my mouth, I could almost feel his co*ck driving deep into my channel.
I still feel it now, the uncontrollable need, and I’m not sure if it’s his or mine.
Or maybe it’s a combination of both.
His larger body pins me against the wall and I can’t breathe, not because he’s crushing me, but because of everything else.
Like his breath on the side of my face and the sharp tingles it provokes.
Or the scent of his cologne that envelops me whole as he did in front of Kirill and Aleksander.
But most of all, it’s his warmth, the sense of safety I’ve never allowed myself to feel, not even with my father.
Because he didn’t say that, my father, he never said he’d protect me. That’s why I left, that’s why I wore contact lenses and glasses and changed my hair color.
That’s why I stole from him.
But Knox said it in front of those two dangerous men. He didn’t care that they were dangerous or that they could snap his neck with a motion from Kirill’s hand.
That’s exactly what would’ve happened if there weren’t people around. Kirill would’ve given Aleksander a sign and his guard would’ve stabbed Knox to death, then buried him on some construction site.
But Knox didn’t give a f*ck about any of that.
He said he’d protect me.
And maybe that’s why I’m melting against the wall. I’m breathing so harshly, so gutturally, I think I’m hyperventilating.
However, Knox’s hold on my neck keeps me anchored in the moment and to him. And even though I have no clue where he’s taking this, a part of me, the rebellious spiky part that decided to steal and leave, doesn’t care.
Knox doesn’t care either, because his co*ck is nuzzling against my ass cheeks, hard and thick and hot. So hot that I catch fire.
All the tension I’ve been feeling since that day he walked out of the supply room returns with a vengeance. The onslaught of emotions wrap around my throat, matching his grip. He has his index finger against my jaw, forbidding me from attempting to move.
But that’s not the only thing wrapped around me. His other hand loops around my waist and reaches for the zipper of my pants, undoing it, then pulling the cloth down to beneath my ass.
A gust of air hits my skin and my eyes widen. “Knox…?”
“Shh. I told you to stay quiet.”
“Oh my God, you can’t be serious?”
“I perfectly am. What did you think “I’ll f*ck you” means, my little liar?”
That’s the thing, I didn’t think. Or maybe I thought he was joking, but that’s obviously not the case.
“Here?” I murmur, my voice shaking, but it’s not out of trepidation.
“Here.” It’s one word, one single word, but he whispers it in that deep, sensual voice of his and it feels like a thrust into my starving core.
