Page 89 of Lord of the Underworld

"We'll take our leave," Dmitri says dryly.

Dedushka rises, nodding to my father who stands as well. "You need rest," he says, squeezing my shoulder, one of the few uninjured spots on my body. "We'll speak later."

As they pass my bride, she nods in respect with a warm smile.

When they're finally gone, she closes the door and hurries over to me. "You must be exhausted, moya milaya."

"Not exhausted," I say. "Starving."

Oksana turns back, heading for the door. "I made beef stroganoff, I'll be right -"

"Not for food."

Here comes that delicious rose pink on her skin as she blushes. "We're not doing that again!" she hisses, looking at the door as if someone is listening. "I could have smothered you. You wouldn't have been able to push me off. I'm pretty sure if the rest of the family knew they would shoot me."

I crook two fingers, beckoning her closer.

Oh, my bride is wavering, I can see it. She's looking at my chest, bare except for a swath of bandages and I reach down to squeeze my dick, already hard in my sweats.

"Vadim…"

"Do I have to get up?" I reach for the IV in my hand and she darts forward.

"Don't you dare!" she gasps.

She's close enough now for me to take her wrist and gently pull her closer. Keeping her gaze, I slide my other hand up her smooth thigh and under her dress. Frowning when I find a scrap of cotton blocking my fingers, I say, "Step back and take them off."

Watching her hands slide her dress up is the worst kind of torture. When her fingers hook on the band of her panties and pull them down, I have to squeeze my dick harder. Sliding them off her ankles, Oksana looks alarmed when I hold out my hand for them, but she reluctantly hands them over.

Just as I thought, they're already wet. Pressing the cloth to my nose, I let out a growl before sliding them under my pillow. I can still smell her sweet scent and it’s making me feral with need. "Take off your dress."

Each inch of skin revealed to me is beautiful, her long legs, toned from years of riding, her soft belly and pert, round breasts. Prettiest of all is her hair settling around her shoulders after pulling the dress over her head and dropping it on the floor.

Wrapping my arm around her waist to hold her still, I slide two fingers inside her. "So wet," I say. "So good for me." One of her hands wraps around mine, feeling my wrist flex as I toy with her pussy, my thumb circling her clit, pushing my fingertips against her satiny walls, finding that spot that makes her knees weak and she sways closer.

"If I scratched this spot inside you, how would it feel?" I ask idly, letting go of her waist and putting my hand behind my head. Her lashes flutter and she lets out a whimper, held in place with only my fingers shoved in her pussy. "Not hard. Lightly." I slide the tip of my nail over that swollen patch inside her and she lets out a choked gasp.

"That sounds like approval," I murmur, running both fingernails against it. Her knuckles turn white, gripping my wrist. I don't think she's aware that she's pushing my fingers inside her harder.

This is what gives me the greatest pleasure, watching my bride carefully, noting her breathing, her pulse speeding up. Just before she can let out that little, desperate breath that signals she's coming, I pull my fingers out, shoving them into her mouth, hooking them against her teeth and pulling her down to me.

"Climb on," I say, pushing my pillow flat. "If you want to come, you're going to have to work for it."

There's something that sounds like a growl from her, but my Oksana is already straddling me, using her knees to position her spread pussy over my mouth. "Fuck, so pink and swollen," I growl. "You're wet down to your thighs." Brushing a knuckle over her clit then pushing it hard, I watch her hands fly to the headboard, gripping it tight.

For the first couple of weeks in the hospital, several of my fingers were numb, and I spent hours squeezing a stress ball, willing the nerves to regenerate. This is my reward, feeling the soft globes of her ass as I hold them in my palms, squeezing them, pulling her pussy against my mouth. I give her a long, filthy lick from her clit to her channel and back, sucking her lips into my mouth, nibbling them with my teeth.

"How can this be so good?" Oksana moans. "I'm scared I'm going to kill you and I still don't want you to stop."

I pull away from her cunt long enough to tell her, "You can't hurt me. Now rub this greedy little pussy all over my face. There's a reason I didn't shave this morning." I give her a dark smile. "You like my stubble, so rub on it. Get yourself off. Tak sladko i gryazno, so sweet and dirty, aren't you?"

She's mine now, all her resistance and common sense is gone, and my bride is writhing on me, back arched and twisting her hips as I push my chin up against her opening. "Your pussy is so swollen, so close now, aren't you? Come on me. Soak my face."

Squeezing her ass harder, I chuckle internally as her needy cunt pushes down on my mouth and my nose. In seconds, my girl detonates, crying out and moaning, tears on her cheeks, and I slide my fingers back inside her. Her cunt is pulsing against them, squeezing my fingers.

"Better now, hmm?" I ask, helping her get settled on my (slightly) less injured side, her knee drawn over my thigh and her hand tracing one of my tattoos.

"Selfish," she sighs. "I haven't done anything for you."