Page 44 of Gilded in Blood

“This pussy is mine now,” he growls softly, thrusting a little deeper. “No other man is ever going to have you. Understand?”

The possessiveness in his voice makes something deep inside me melt. I cry out, nodding frantically. “Yes… I don’t want anyone else. Just you. Only you.”

I don’t even know where the words are coming from, but I mean them. I’ve never felt anything like this, this connection, this overwhelming need. I want all of him.

He groans against my neck, hips starting to move a little faster, still careful but losing some of that iron control.

Every thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through me. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on as he fucks me deeper, claiming me with every stroke.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans against my ear, voice rough and filthy. “Look at you, spread open and taking every inch like a good girl.”

I moan loudly, my nails digging into his back as he starts to move faster. The wet sounds of him fucking me fill the room, obscene and intoxicating.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he growls, one hand sliding between us to circle my clit. “Wanted me to ruin this pretty little cunt. Say it.”

“Yes,” I gasp, hips rising to meet his thrusts. “I wanted you… only you.”

He presses harder on my clit, rubbing tight, fast circles while driving into me deeper. The pleasure builds fast and overwhelming. My thighs start to shake, my walls fluttering around his thick cock.

“Come for me,” he commands, voice dark. “Come on my cock like the desperate girl you are.”

I shatter with a broken cry of his name. “Ilya⁠—!”

My orgasm crashes through me, hard and blinding. My back arches off the bed, my pussy clenching rhythmically around him as waves of intense pleasure rip through every nerve in my body.

I’m still trembling when he suddenly pulls out with a harsh groan.

He strokes himself twice and comes with a deep, guttural sound, thick ropes of cum spilling across my stomach and breasts. The sight is filthy and erotic. I can’t look away.

When he finally releases his cock, he spreads his release over my skin with his fingers, marking me.

Then he brings two fingers to his cock and swipes the mix of his cum and my blood, evidence of my broken barrier.

His eyes darken with something primal as he uses the mixture to drag it slowly across my lower belly and mark it.

The mixture glistens on my skin, a dark, possessive claim that makes my pussy clench again even though I just came.

He stares at it for a long moment, breathing hard, before he stands up without a word and walks into the bathroom.

He returns with a warm, wet cloth and gently cleans me up, but not the mark on my stomach. I wince slightly as he wipes between my legs, still sensitive.

When he’s done, I realize he left the mark he’d drawn untouched.

He takes the cloth back to the bathroom. I expect him to come back to bed, but instead he picks up his clothes from the floor, doesn’t bother putting them on, and walks out of the room without saying another word.

The door clicks shut behind him.

I lie there, naked, covered in his cum, my body still buzzing from the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt… and suddenly feeling very alone.

He didn’t kiss me. Not once. And now he’s gone.

I stare at the closed bedroom door, waiting for it to open again. For him to walk back in, climb into bed with me, pull me into his arms. Even just for a moment.

But the door stays shut. The silence in the room feels heavier with every passing second.

If it weren’t for the dull, throbbing ache between my legs and the stickiness of his cum drying on my stomach, I might convince myself I imagined the whole thing. That he was never here at all.

Why did he leave like that?