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The belt falls to the floor, the metal buckle clanging, as he lifts me in his strong, powerful arms. My legs wrap around him, and his cock, still hard, presses into me.
“Come here,” he says softly. My head falls to his shoulder. He holds me and walks me back to the room, laying me on the bed. “My good girl. That’s my good girl. Jesus, Renata. I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I blink up at him. He believes me. There’s not a deceptive bone in my body. I’m resilient and fierce, but a liar? Never. I can’t. I won’t.
It’s partly why I hate that my brother has put me in this position to begin with.
“Come here,” he repeats, pulling me to him as if he wants us to be fused together. He holds me and kisses the top of my head. “Spread your legs,” he says in a ragged whisper.
I’m throbbing with need, and we both know it’s so, so much more than just sex.
I obey him, spread my legs, and he shoves his thick fingers into my pussy. No preamble, no warning, he plunges into my wet core and groans. “You’re fucking soaked. You got off on that, didn’t you?”
I nod and moan when he thrusts again.
“Khristos,woman.” He flicks his thumb over my throbbing clit. My hips buck, my pelvis rises, and I stifle the need to cry out.
“I want to eat you out. I want to taste your pussy,” he whispers.
I shake my head. “I want that, too, but right now?—”
“You want me to hold you,” he finishes, his tone surprised.
I nod. There’s a knot in my throat, and my vision’s blurred. I hate how easily he undoes me, but Ollie Romanov is going to be my husband.
For better or for worse.
“Let me taste your nipples,” he says. “Move this way, Renata.”
My vision grows hazy with the first stroke of his tongue on the hardened bud. He circles my nipple and suckles, and a spasm of absolute bliss flashes through me. Oh myGod.
It seems like he’s everywhere at once—his mouth at my nipple, one hand between my legs. It’s hot and consuming, and I’m on the cusp of coming when he comes to a sudden stop.
“Beg me. Fucking beg me as if your life depends on it,” he commands.
“Please,” I whisper. “Fucking hell, Ollie, please?—”
He gives me one powerful stroke as he sucks my nipples, then freezes again. I’m right there, right on the edge, about to explode, and he’s taking his sweet time.
“Ollie! Jesus,please,” I sob.
“Are you going to be a good girl?” he asks, his hot breath on my nipple the most divine torture.
“Yes,” I promise. “Fuckingyes!”
“That’s it, baby,” he says, licking my nipple again. “Come on my hand, Renata. Come, baby.”
Another stroke of his tongue to my nipple, perfect pressure to my clit, and I explode into ecstasy. I scream with pleasure, my body writhing next to his, the power of my climax making it impossible to even breathe. He strokes until I come back down, and my panting slows. Another stroke and it’s nearly painful.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Please…”
He gives me another stroke. I’m so sensitive my hips buck.
“Remember who owns you, Renata,” he whispers darkly with another stroke on my too-sensitive clit.
“Ollie!”
He strokes again and again, and I can’t take it anymore. It’s too much, and I’m too sensitive.
