The Professional (The Game Maker #1)(52)
Author: Kresley Cole

At that, I crashed over the edge, my inner walls clamping down on his length. He gave a yell and ceased his thrusts; I knew he could feel me milking his c**k with rhythmic contractions, demanding everything from him.

He held himself still as I clenched him over and over; spasms left me unable to do anything but repeat his name as my head lolled.

He wrapped my hair around his fist, forcing me to look at him. Between breaths, he said, “Ty moya.” You are mine.

Then he threw back his head and bellowed, beginning to ejaculate into me. I could feel his se**n jetting inside, like a scalding tide. Only then did he thrust again, bucking his hips in a frenzy to pump himself dry, yelling from the force of his cum. . . .

Afterward, he clasped me against him so tightly, it was to the point of pain. I needed it, wanted him to squeeze me even harder.

I don’t know how long we remained like that, hearts thundering together, his hips softly rocking. Hours might have passed. When even the cold water from the tanks began sputtering, he carried me from the shower, arm clasped under my ass, his semihard c**k still inside me.

Hadn’t I once dreamed that he’d taken me soaking wet to bed? Without separating our bodies, he sat at the edge, with me in his lap. He kissed water from my neck, nursing the skin above my pulse point in that way that made me melt. He nibbled on my bottom lip, tenderly sucking on it.

When he dipped his head down to tongue drops from my puckered ni**les, I arched my back with a cry, glorying in the feel of him swelling within me.

Yet then he lifted me off his cock, turning me, easily positioning me with my back to his chest. “Want to see you better.” He fisted his length to impale me once more.

“S-see me?”

He wedged his legs between mine, spreading me till my legs rested against his outer thighs.

“Look at you.”

I gazed up. We were in front of the dresser mirror, our damp bodies reflected—as if two more people were in the room with us.

“Any man would kill for you.”

My face was flushed, eyes glinting with passion. Behind me, he seemed even more massive and unyielding, while I appeared pale, small, and soft. The dusky shade of his c**k was stark against the pink flesh receiving it so eagerly.

As he hefted my br**sts, I gazed at his ragged, tattooed hands against my milk-white skin, at that knot of cloth around his brawny arm. He looked like a dark god, a warrior who’d just returned from battle.

Because he was.

He lifted me just enough to reveal his veined shaft glistening from my orgasm and his se**n. When a pearly bead trailed down from my opening, he said, “You see my cum inside you?”

“God, I see it.” The hot, rich essence of him. The evidence of what we’d done. I moaned, beginning to tremble. In the mirror, I watched my br**sts bobbing with my shallowed breaths.

Against the hollow of my neck, he rasped, “I’ve never come in another.”

I was grasping at threads of this conversation. Never come? Oh, because he’d worn protection.

“Did you feel it inside you?”

I nodded. “It felt so hot, scalding. It made me need to come again.”

He turned my face so our eyes could meet in the mirror, so I could see how he regarded me, my body.

Like I was already a caught thing. His gaze was . . . sinister. “In a way, I’ve marked you.”

At the idea, I shivered against him. I’d expected a bruising, frantic claiming in the shower, and even now. This was the man who’d whipped my br**sts, who’d slapped my ass so hard I’d felt it the next day. Merely recalling how he’d plied me with pain made wetness flood me.

Yet this relentless assault on all my senses was just as much a demonstration of his dominance. He had control over himself, over me. “This is where you belong.”

“Belong?” I whispered. Such a loaded word.

“You belong against me”—he grazed his teeth down my neck—“around me. Connected to me.”

Connection. “Yes, yes.”

His fingers made a cage over my throat. “You belong to me.” His other hand dipped down to stroke my slickened clit, eliciting a gasp from me.

I spread my legs even wider, knowing he was about to make me mindless again.

“I told you that if I was your first lover, I’d be your last,” he said, his fingers making slow, slippery circles. “I told you that I’d kill any man who touched what was mine. Do you understand me?”

Though I could scarcely pull my thoughts together, reluctance stole through me. I understood he wanted to possess me. Darkly, brutally. But for how long? How totally?

Would there be anything left of me when a man like this had had his fill?

When I hesitated to answer him, he abruptly pulled out.

I was left cold, bereft. “What? Why?” Aching emptiness suffused me.

He positioned me back on his lap, his engorged shaft in front of my mons. It stood like an idol to be worshipped, making my mouth water and my hips rock. I couldn’t keep myself from grinding against the damp base.

“Grasp it.”

I did.

“Stroke it. Learn it. My c**k is the only one you’ll ever need—or know.”

Enthralled, I put both hands on him, pulling, masturbating him in front of the mirror. “Oh, God, Sevastyan . . .”

“If you want it back, then beg me for it.”

As I squeezed it in my fists, words fell from my lips: “Please give me your cock.”

“Why?”

Why? Honestly . . . “Because I feel like I’ll die without it.”

“Then tell me who owns your exquisite little body.”

Owns. Owns. Yet right now, he did—controlling it absolutely. He lifted me once more, poising me atop his cock, wedging just the head inside. I moaned, wriggling on him as he withheld what I so desperately craved. Fine! “You own it.”

“Who owns you?” he demanded, upping the ante. Once again, he was pushing me, forcing me to submit ever more completely.

But fighting him seemed . . . unthinkable. Like resisting the inevitable. So I murmured, “You own me.”

“Good.” His eyes gleamed with triumph. Satisfied that I’d surrendered, he dug his heels into the floor and thrust upward into my wetness.

“Sevastyan!” I cried, but he didn’t slow, seemed to have reached the limits of his iron control.

His hips surged, pistoning between my legs. In the mirror, I could watch his gaze locked on my quivering br**sts. I could witness his thick, shining c**k plowing into me, swallowed by my hungry pu**y. About to fill me with more of his se**n.