Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
A throaty groan cuts off his reply. I don’t know if it came from Andrik or me. His fast grip of my throat could have forced out the last of the air in my windpipe, or the swiftness of his moves when he raced to grip my throat could have mimicked the sound of someone gasping for their last breath.
His grasp on my throat is firm but not painful. It is an erotic hold that has me as desperate to be ravaged as I am for my next breath. It increases my wetness enough for Andrik to pull out to the tip without hindrance, and although his reentrance is faster than his earlier endeavor, it is still at a painstakingly slow pace that shows mammoth constraint.
His body shakes as he tries to hold back the urge to drive into me like a madman, and his fight is my undoing.
I want to be taken hard and fast, fucked so dangerously my cracked insides will have nothing to do with an infertility diagnosis.
I want him to claim me.
When I say that to Andrik, his fingers curled around my neck flex as a Russian cussword leaves his mouth. The primal urge to fuck is beaming out of him, his restraint at its last tether.
He wants this as much as I do. There’s just something holding him back.
I think I know what it is, and I can’t help but use it to push him over the edge.
“Unless you want to reserve the glory for Mikhail?”
My scream echoes around the penthouse apartment when he thrusts into me with one ardent pump. He takes me to the base of his cock, eliciting a combination of moans, pain, and tingles.
They’re all as frantic as the rest. I can’t get enough. I feel used and dirty, but I also feel like this is what my body was designed for. To be pleasured and to give pleasure. It isn’t just a vessel of parenthood. It is much more than that.
“Yes, Andrik,” I hiss through lips that are suddenly bone dry. “Fuck me.”
He drives in and out of me, pinning me to the mountain of cushions that are soon replaced with his arm when he loses control. They’re no match for the power of his grinds, flattened with every perfect pump.
“This…” I meet him grind for grind as he thrusts harder, faster. He uses every muscle in his body to command every nerve I own. “This cunt… this scent…” I almost vault out of his arms when he backhands my clit with his last word. “They’re going to ruin me.” Tremors of an orgasm surface faster than I can contain when he locks his eyes with mine and says, “You’re going to ruin me, Zoya Galdean. However, I’d still sign up like a schmuck time and time again anytime it is placed up on offer.”
An orgasm pulses through me, but he doesn’t stop. He continues plowing into me until the wetness slicking my skin matches the slippery mess between my legs.
Andrik is wearing a condom, so all the hot dampness coating my pussy, ass, and thighs is mine.
I’d be embarrassed if it didn’t drive him wild. The wetter I become, the harder he drives into me. He fucks me into oblivion until all I can do is surrender to the madness.
I shove my head back and scream through a blistering of stars, certain the only person about to be ruined is me.
9
ANDRIK
My steps into the living room of my brother’s penthouse slow when I detect I am being watched. Being eyeballed like I perform tricks for coin is nothing out of the ordinary for me. People as old as dirt and as fresh as a newborn baby forever watch me. It started at my fifth birthday party and has continued to grow along with my reputation for being a tyrant of a man over the past thirty years.
It is the disapproval in the gawk, however, that has me on the back foot.
People are usually too scared to project their wrath in my direction, even when I am the perpetrator of their suffering.
There’s only one man foolish enough to not hide his disdain.
My little brother, Mikhail.
His shirtless torso is leaning on the overhead cupboard in his industrial-sized kitchen, and he’s nursing a mug of freshly brewed coffee.
I don’t need to ask if he knows I used his bachelor pad for the very reason he purchased it. I felt his beady eyes on me seconds after he engaged the alarm on his prototype motorcycle.
The first emotion he portrayed when he learned his bed was warming two bodies instead of one was smugness.
It was quickly followed by annoyance.
I thought it was because he believed his sheets were smeared with the cum of the woman he left kneeling for hours on end to test her obedience, but learn otherwise when he nudges his head to a wad of envelopes on the kitchen island.