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And then it happens.
Searing wet heat surges into me, and I feel him fill me from the impossible depth he’s buried within me. With one ropy spurt after another, his cum flows forth and leaks out around his cock buried in my ass, running down my hips and thighs.
Roaring, he pulls out of me and falls backwards, still cumming. I turn just in time for a few more errant drops to splash on my belly, my breasts, my face, and even my hair. The hot, sticky liquid beads and rolls along my skin. The salty musky scent—his scent—hangs heavy in the air, marking me ashis.
I fight the urge to reach out with my tongue and lick away the salty pearly drop at the corner of my mouth.
Shuddering, he backs away and observes me at a distance. His cock is red and swollen. His seed puddles on the floor. We stare at each other, both breathing raggedly as if we’ve finished a marathon at full sprint.
I am leakingfrom every hole. Cum plasters my hair, covers my body, and leaks out of my pussy, mouth, and ass.
I begged him to destroy me, I think.And he did.
The air around us hangs heavy with the scent of sweat and sex and guilt. I’m quivering on the ground, limbs twitching as I convulse from even the lightest touch.
I don’t know how long we stay like this before Konstantin finally rises to his feet, sweeps me up in his arms, unlatches the door, and carries me up the steps.
He deposits me gingerly in our bed, and I feel my lips trembling at the gentleness of his touch. There’s no mistaking the self-loathing in his eyes at the thought of what he just did to me.
No,I correct myself. At what Imadehim to do to me.
Thisis who he really is. Not the monster he pretends to be in that dungeon. But this. The man who will reach up to wipe the tears away from my eyes. The man who chose me over the bratva when both came under threat in a hail of bullets. The man who would burn down the world for me if I just ask him to.
He showed me his heart, begged me to choose it, and I ripped it to shreds.
I made him believe that I can only see him as a monster.
Don’t cry.I plead silently.Don’t you fucking cry.
But just who am I pleading to? Him? Or myself?
I don’t know.
And it doesn’t fucking matter.
Without another word, he walks away, quietly closing the door behind him as he does so. And only when I’m alone, do I dare let myself cry.
Marrying Konstantin Siderov was supposed to be a ruse.
It was supposed to be nothing more than a game.
And games aren’t supposed to break your heart.
45
KONSTANTIN
Anguish tastesa lot like broken glass.
No, it’s worse.
I’d rather eat a mouthful of shattered bottles, and let the shards cut my tongue and gums until I’m gurgling blood, than know that I did this to her.
To Emily.
Falling to my knees, I listen outside the door as she cries, and feel shame overwhelm me.
“There you are.” Alla says in Russian, as she turns the corner of the hallway, flanked by her bodyguards. Her hands are folded in front of her.
