Kostya: A Dark Mafia Romance (Zinon Bratva) by Nicole Fox (my reading book .TXT) 📕

But I will not slip.

I take another step closer. We are maybe a yard apart now. Her back is against the doorframe. Her eyes are locked on mine.

“You can’t tell me that, Charlotte, because it is not true. You do want me to touch you. You do want me to plunge my fingers inside you, to twist your hair around my fist and expose your throat bare for my mouth to claim. You want to be stripped and owned by me. Say it. Say it now. Tell me what you want.”

The light in her eyes has shifted from enraged to sultry. She’s a victim to the same need that is surging through me. My cock is a steel rod straining at my zipper. I need her as badly as I’ve ever needed anything in my whole fucking life.

“I don’t—I mean, I want …”

She hasn’t said a full sentence in minutes, but I understand her perfectly nonetheless.

I close the distance between us and wrap my hand around her throat. Her fingers seize my wrist, but she doesn’t pull my hand away. With my other hand, I pull up the hem of her dress and trace lightly along her sex through the fabric of her panties.

“Kostya …” she murmurs breathily.

I press my forehead against her and start to whisper in a low, quiet rasp. As I do, I pull aside her panties and slide two fingers inside of her. Her warm wetness swallows me, sucking at me greedily. “You have wanted me to touch you since the moment you first walked into my office, sweet Charlotte,” I growl. “And I will confess something to you: I’ve wanted it, too. I wanted to bend you over my desk and tear your blouse open. I wanted to dive into you every time you entered, and every time you left, I stared at your ass and pictured claiming it with harsh red handprints.”

She’s whimpering now as my thumb swipes at her clit and my two fingers delve deep inside of her. Neither of us has blinked in God knows how long. Like we can’t look away, or the spell will shatter.

“And when I finally had the chance to take what I wanted, I didn’t waste it. I made you moan and I made you mine. And, Charlotte, I want to confess something else to you: I wanted it again and again and again.” Each word brings a new motion of my thumb on her button. She’s approaching her peak. Her face is flushed, and her lips are parted slightly. I can feel the soft tufts of her exhales on my own mouth, just centimeters from hers.

“So now, I’ll give you one more chance. Tell me you don’t want me to touch you, and I’ll never lay a finger on you again. But don’t lie, sweet Charlotte. Don’t you dare lie. I can see everything inside of you right now. So go on. Tell me the truth. Tell me if you want this.”

“I … I … I want this.”

I smile. “Then come.”

Like I said the magic words, she erupts on my hand. I let go of her throat and her head sags into my chest as her body is wracked with the spasms of her orgasm. I clamp my palm down on her sex and let her ride out the waves as she bucks again and again.

She is a weakness I’ll have to deal with at some point, an emotion that I can’t let rule me or it’ll be the end of us all. But right now, I’m too weak to fight the need I have pounding inside of me. The want I can’t control.

Finally, after a long minute, the orgasm passes. But the moment is far from over.

She looks up at me with a renewed fire in her eyes, tangles her fingers in my hair, and pulls. Hard.

She tears at my shirt and buttons skitter across the floor. Her nails rake across my chest and I snarl. This woman is pure passion, the kind of desire I find intoxicating. She shoves the shirt down my arms and uses it to yank me closer so her hips slam against mine. “Come on.”

“Where’s that dirty mouth now, Charlotte?” I tease.

In response, she puts it on my neck and bites. Feisty this time. Angry.

I yank her panties down around her ankles, punishing, bruising, marking her in a way she won’t soon forget. Then I’m inside her, slamming her against a wall while she groans and bucks and cries out. No whimpers this time. Her sounds are untamed, wild, so damn hot I can barely stand. She claws me again, down my throat, across my chest. Her vengeance is intoxicating. Her anger enticing.

I like the pain. I feel alive.

With her legs wrapped around my hips, I grip her ass with both hands, pound into her until she’s hanging onto my shoulders, moaning and crying out, kissing me until neither of us can breathe then grinding against my cock until I’m about to collapse.

When she trembles and grasps my face with both hands, dragging me down for yet another kiss, I’m too close to hold back, too deep to care, and I let go. Spiral through her kiss. Know this is something we can’t continue, something I also know I won’t be able to live without it. I’m gut-sick over Charlotte and that is something I must deal with. Another time, though, in another place, somewhere without her doe eyes staring at me.

She slides down my body so her feet touch the ground. Even panting, glaring, hating me with her eyes and loving me with her pussy, she’s dangerous for me.

My blood roars in my ears. My cock is ready for round two, and I lift her into my arms and carry her to the bedroom. For tonight, we’ll use our bodies to work out what we can’t say, what we don’t know how to make clear. And the morning will take care of itself.