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I let out a muffled cry of shock. My skin flushed hot with embarrassment, but beneath that was something else—a darker kind of desire. A craving for more.

“Do you taste that,srce moje?” Vuk’s eyes burned into mine. “That’s the taste of your need forme. Not anyone else.Me.” He pushed his fingers deeper. I choked, my eyes welling with tears. “You’re mine, Ayana.I teško onom koji pokuša da mi te uzme.”

He withdrew his hand and reached down. I groaned when he finally,finallyslid two fingers inside me. They were still wet from my spit.

It’d been so long since I’d had sex that even two fingers was a stretch, but the initial discomfort soon melted into mind-bending pleasure.

I clenched around him, desperate formore. He wrapped his other hand around my throat, using it as leverage while he finger fucked me into a trembling, sobbing mess. Every thrust in made me see stars; every drag out made my head spin. I was so wet that obscene squelches echoed through the room with each brutal thrust.

My juices ran down my thighs with abandon, but I was flying so high I barely noticed. I’d never experienced such exquisite uninhibitedness. Never trusted anyone enough to let them see me like this or letmyselfgo this fully.

It was intoxicating.

Vuk squeezed my throat, gentle enough not to hurt but hard enough to make me moan. He was the only thing holding me up at this point; my limbs were useless, and my brain was mush.

Even so, I had enough presence of mind left to gasp when he slowly slid a third finger inside.

“Oh my God.” I panted at the renewed stretch. “That’s too—I can’t…oh,fuck.” The squeal when he buried all three digits knuckle deep inside me couldn’t have possibly come from my mouth.

It was too needy when I was already stuffed so full I could hardly breathe. I squirmed. The sensations from the resulting friction destroyed any lingering protests I might’ve had. A fresh whimper escaped, even needier than the last.

“Yes, you can,” Vuk said calmly. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought him unaffected, but his desire was clear in the pale pink flush decorating his cheekbones and the dark tenor of his voice.

“Look at how you’re gushing all over my hand.” He lowered his mouth next to my ear. “Do you wish it was my cock fucking you so deeply, hmm?” He withdrew and thrust all three fingers into me again. Hard. I cried out and clawed at his shoulders, silently pleading for more. “Do you want me to push you up against this window and take you from behind for the entire city to see?”

“Yes, yes,yes!” I sobbed and chanted in sinful prayer. “Please.”

“Listen to you.” Vuk’s mouth skimmed down my throat. He paused at the curve of my neck and sank his teeth into the tender flesh, marking me. Claiming me as his. The act shouldn’t have turned me on as much as it did. “You sound so pretty when you’re begging me to make you come.”

It was too much.

His touch, his mark, his filthy words—they formed a fireball low in my belly, and my orgasm detonated. I convulsed around him, my cry of release sharp and keening. The rush of pleasure was so intense, the world seemed to collapse beneath its weight. I collapsed with it as my mind and body fractured into a kaleidoscope of sensations.

Wave after wave buffeted me. I was a thousand pieces of confetti fluttering in the wind until the tide finally eased, and I slowly drifted back to earth.

I slumped against the window, my breaths ragged.

Vuk pressed a kiss to the top of my head, released my throat, and pulled his fingers out of me with a slickpop. He dropped his forehead to mine, his breaths equally unsteady. His steel-hard erection pressed against my stomach.

“You didn’t…”

“Come?” I heard the ghost of a smile in his voice. “No.”

“I think we can take care of that.” I was still swimming in the languorous aftermath of my orgasm. Emboldened, I reached for his belt buckle, but he stopped me with a hand around my wrist.

I looked up, confused. A trickle of trepidation seeped through my chest at his serious expression.

“Call off the wedding.” Soft desperation ran beneath his otherwise cool command.

My stomach dropped.

The mention of the wedding wiped away my post-coital warmth. A chill swept in and tore through my lungs.

“I can’t,” I whispered. The words tasted bitter on my tongue.

Vuk’s expression flattened, and the chill intensified. “You can’t, or you won’t?”

I shook my head, emotion tangling in my throat. “You don’t understand.”