Devil's Lair (Molotov Obsession 1)

I want it all from her.

Gripping her hands, I pin them at her sides as I trail burning kisses over her heaving ribcage, her flat belly, the vulnerable V under her navel. She’s wearing a white thong, and I rip it off as well, then pin her hands again as I continue my oral exploration of her body. It’s beautiful, all slim and toned, her bronze skin like warm silk under my lips. The hair on her pussy is delicate and fine, as if it’s just growing out after a waxing, and jealousy sears me like hellbroth as I imagine her grooming herself for an ex-boyfriend… for some man who isn’t me.

Never again.

No one else will ever touch her.

I will eviscerate any man who tries.

Her breaths speed up as my lips approach her sex, the muscles in her thighs tightening even as her legs part and her hips rise off the table. She wants this, badly, and though I’m dying to taste her fully, I prolong her torment by nuzzling just the outside of her tender folds, breathing in her scent and letting the anticipation build.

“Nikolai, please…” Her voice quivers, her hands flexing in my grasp as I kiss and lick at the seam of her slit, giving her just a fraction more. “Oh God, please, just—” She gasps as my tongue finally delves between her folds, and I lap at the creamy evidence of her desire, tasting her sweet, rich essence. She’s everything I’ve imagined, everything I’ve ever wanted, and my cock throbs violently with the need to be inside her, to slide deep into her tight, wet heat. Instead, I find her clit and greedily attack it, alternately sucking and licking, and as she comes with a choked cry, I push two fingers into her spasming flesh, intensifying her orgasm and preparing her for what’s to come.

Because I won’t be gentle when I take her.

I can’t be.

Not this time.

44

Chloe

Aftershocks are still rippling through my body when I open my eyes to find Nikolai leaning over me, one hand propped on the table next to me and the other possessively cupping my sex, two long, thick fingers buried inside me. His eyes are narrowed fiercely, his jaw taut. “I’m going to fuck you now.” His voice is hard and guttural, dangerously savage. “Do you understand?”

I do. It’s a warning as much as a statement of fact.

This is happening, and there’s no going back.

The sane part of me wants to run, to shrink back from the dark intensity in his stare, even as something twisted in me revels in his loss of control, in the raw, unvarnished hunger on his face. His smooth black hair is disheveled from my fingers, his lips glistening with my wetness, and the top buttons on his shirt are missing, as if he’s ripped them off.

This is not the elegant, sophisticated man who mandates rigid meal times.

It’s the feral being I’ve sensed lurking underneath.

“I…” I wet my lips, my body clenching on his fingers. “I understand.”

His jaw flexes violently, and then he’s on me, his lips and tongue consuming me as his fingers thrust deeper, finding a spot that makes sparks dance at the edges of my vision. He tastes like the forest, primal and wild, his cedar-and-bergamot scent mixing with the musky undertone of my arousal. Gasping into his mouth, I arch against him, clutching at his sides as he starts to fuck me with those fingers, driving them into me with a hard, relentless rhythm that makes tension skyrocket in my core. I can feel the orgasm barreling at me with the speed of a runaway locomotive, and then it’s crashing over me, blasting me with white-hot, dizzying pleasure.

Panting, I sprawl bonelessly on the hard surface of the table, but Nikolai’s not done with me. Before I can recover, he pulls out his fingers and pushes away from me. Forcing open my heavy eyelids, I watch as he pulls down his zipper and rolls a condom onto his erection.

A very large erection.

I was right about his size. He’s bigger than any guy I’ve known.

A frisson of purely feminine alarm snakes through me, but he’s already over me, gripping my wrists to pin them above my head as he claims my lips in another scorching kiss. The broad, thick head of his cock prods at my entrance, and finding it, presses in.

I’m wet and soft from the two orgasms, but the stretch still burns, my body struggling to accommodate his size as he slides deeper. A sound of distress escapes my throat, and he stills, lifting his head.

Breathing heavily, we stare at each other, and unbidden, his words come to me. Crazy words, about predestination and threads of fate… about the inevitability of us. I still don’t know if I believe it, but I can’t deny the powerful connection that thrums between us, can’t refute that this feels more like bonding than mere sex.