And then I was lifted off the floor so suddenly the world spun. Nikolai put me on his lap so easily it was as if I had no control over my body, as if I weighed nothing… was insubstantial.
His hands on my waist were painful and brutal, and I knew marks would mar my flesh, but I’d never wanted anything more.
Nikolai used the hold he had on me to rock my body over his, his cock nestled between my pussy, my slickness causing this delicious, smooth fiction.
My pussy lips framed that massive cock, his thickness so substantial all I could think about was how could–would–he fit? How could he possibly stuff all of that into my unused body?
“It’ll fit. I’ll make sure you take every fucking last inch when the time comes,” he growled and I made this strangled noise in the back of my throat.
Had I said my worry out loud? Did I care? The answer was a resounding no.
He moved me easily over him. Back and forth. Back and forth. I felt myself reaching that pinnacle, that precipice, the edge of where I’d fall over and wouldn’t care if I hit the ground hard, crushing me, wiping away any thought or feeling or emotion that I’d ever had.
I curled my hands around Nikolai‘s shoulders, dug my nails into his flesh until he hissed, until he growled and held me harder. And then his mouth latched onto the side of my throat, his teeth grazing at my flesh hard enough the pain sparked something deep and dark and delicious inside of me.
“You’re going to come for me, and you’re going to do it right now, baby girl.” His mouth was still on my neck, that soft, tender spot of flesh where my throat and shoulder met. He bit down hard enough I cried out, then moved his lips to my collarbone, digging his teeth into the flesh and bone.
I swore I heard him snarl, felt his fingertips bruise into my waist.
He kept biting me, leaving marks, sucking at my skin. And it hurt so good. It was the sweetest agony.
I pressed my pussy down on his cock hard, rotating my hips, shamelessly fucking myself on him until I came so forcefully my head fell back on my neck, too heavy to hold up myself, my eyes closed on their own, and I gave into the pleasure.
It was only when I was aware of the sounds fading that I came back to consciousness. Nikolai was murmuring in Russian, soft things that I wanted to think were endearments, but a part of me thought that they were filthy, nasty words.
And God that made me wetter, a fresh gush leaving me as if I hadn’t just orgasmed harder than I ever had before.
“I’m not done with you yet,” I heard him say right before he bit the side of my neck once more hard enough I gasped, hard enough I thought he might have broken the skin.
And then I was flat on my back, my thighs spread so wide the muscles protested. He was between them a second later, his mouth covering my sensitive, drenched pussy.
“Mmm, yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.”
My hands instinctively went to his hair and I held on as he dragged his tongue through my folds, teased my hole, then flattened that muscle and moved it up to my clit.
“I knew your cunt would be sweeter. The sweetest thing… my fucking obsession.” He sucked that bundle into his mouth and hummed, growled, and sounded like a crazed beast. “I want you to tell me you’re a whore for me, but only for me.” His words were muffled and wet sounding against my pussy and I cried out at how sensitive I was, how good it is.
“It’s too much. It’s too much.” I didn’t know if I was pleading that his words were crossing lines, or that his mouth was too forceful as he tried to pull another climax from me.
“It’s not too much and you’ll give me this. You’ll give me everything because you’re mine, Amara.” He stared at me in the eyes for a second before he spit between my legs, soaking my pussy in his salvia.
I gasped, watched his eyes became lit with fire for the inside out, and then he was eating me out.
He sucked my clit into his mouth and drew on it hard. “You’ll only ever be mine.” Another hard, painful… so, so good pull on my clit. “Now tell me, malishka, tell me what I want to hear and what you want to say.”
I gasped and gasped and gasped and then cried out through my orgasm, “I’m your whore. Only yours, Nikolai.”
I was vaguely aware of the animalistic sounds he made while he was relentless between my thighs, while he lapped and sucked at me…. while he spit on my pussy then licked it back up. It was dirty and wrong. It’s so right and feel too good.
He kept me spread open, refusing to let me get away.
I slowly—painfully—came down from my high, crying, begging, praying to a God that wouldn’t listen. My fingers tugged at his hair hard enough I knew it had to hurt, but he stayed right there between my legs and ate me out, his licks slow and gentle now.
And then he was away from me, the chilled air brushing over my pussy, which forced my eyes open. But he didn’t move far. He shifted on the couch so his legs kept mine open, his focus trained on my pussy. His hand was wrapped around that massive, girthy cock, and he stroked himself fast and hard from root to tip.
“Look at that,” he groaned and used his free hand to slide up my inner thigh. I moaned at how good that felt, that soft touch when he did something so dirty. But that was short-lived when a second later he brought his palm down and slapped my pussy.
“Ahhh.” I arched my back, my breasts shaking, the sting and burn instant.
“Again,” he demanded as he still furiously moved his palm up and down his cock. He slapped my pussy again and I cried, begged, curled my hands against the couch cushions so I didn’t move away.
Nikolai smoothed his hand over my erotically abused flesh, soothing, me, driving me up higher and higher and higher.
And when he brought his palm up to the crown of his cock and squeezed, his forearm flexing, the veins standing hard viciously, I held my breath.
His neck muscles clenched as he groaned then barked out a hoarse sound. He angled his erection toward me and hot, thick jets of milky white cum shot out of the tip and splattered my pussy, my thighs, even my lower belly. It was everywhere. He was everywhere.
And his orgasm seemed to go on and on, never-ending, and all I could do was lay there and take it all, let him bathe me in his seed, paint me with his mark.
When he was done the only indication he gave was a subtle relaxation across his shoulders and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were barely open as he stared down at me, as he looked at all the cum on my body.
“God, you’re a fucking mess, malishka. Hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured. He reached out and smoothed his fingers along the streaks of seed, smearing it, rubbing it into my thighs and belly, my pussy lips and then teasing my opening and pushing some in there, too.
I gasped at the feeling.
He held his hand up, showing me how glossy they were, coated with his orgasm, and he made me taste it, pushing those digits into my mouth and against my tongue. He was salty and sweet and darkly addicting. And I found myself sucking on those fingers, lapping up all his seed like I was starved for it.
I’d never known addiction, never felt the undeniable pull of needing something so badly it hurt. But as I stared up at Nikolai, I realized this must be what it felt like.
This must be what it was like to know you could never go back to what was before.