Page 71 of Cruel Russian King

“Good girl.”

I wanted nothing more than to surrender to him, to let him hold the reins, to let myself be seen and claimed in a way I never thought I could allow. And for the first time, I didn’t just accept it, I craved it.

God! I wanted to taste him…to feel him stretch my aching pussy and sink into me until all I could think about was him.

My legs quivered, my release rising. My fingers moved faster…and drowned in my own pleasure my hips bucked as my breathing spiked. My eyes closed…I was almost there…

“Move your fingers, printsessa.” Artyom's voice was sharp, slicing through my thoughts.

My body froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. My eyes opened.

“W-why?”

He arched a brow, amusement in his gaze. “Are you questioning me? Remove them and taste yourself. Taste how sweet that cunt is.”

Wanting to please him, I slid my fingers away and, daringly, brought each one to my lips. One by one. A low, hungry guttural groan escaped him.

A thrill shot through me knowing that I had coaxed that sound from him. It made my body ache for him even more.

Artyom crawled over me, lips devouring mine, cock pressing insistently against my dripping folds.

I moaned into his mouth, rocking my hips against him, as his hands gripped my breasts, pinching hard, eliciting sharp, delicious cries from me.

“Oh…God…”

“Do you like that?” he murmured, repeating the motion.

I tried to answer but I could only moan. His hands left my breasts and drifted down, tracing slow patterns over my stomach.

“Since you didn’t answer, my hands will linger here,” he murmured, wickedly.

“No…” I pleaded, biting my lower lip.

“No what?”

My fingers tangled in his hair tugged lightly. His eyes light up and he moaned.

“Touch me…please…like you did before…”

Desperation was laced so much in my voice, that I didn't recognize it. Yet, I didn’t care. And I know he didn’t either. He needed this control, and I needed him to claim it.

Artyom’s lips curled into a devilish smile and he pinched my nipples again, drawing more cries from me his sweet torture. Just as pain threatened to overtake pleasure, his mouth descended on one, tongue swirling, sucking gently, as he alternated between the two.

His fingers didn't move from my breasts, he stroked them, his cock still pressed against me, driving me insane.

“Artyom…”

He lifted his head and looked at me, lifting a brow.

“I need you…” I rolled my hips against him again.

“You have me,” he said before taking my breast into his mouth once more.

“Artyom. Fuck me.”

This time when he lifted his head a smile broadened his lips.

“Tell me again.” He pinched my nipple hard, sending a jolt straight to my pussy.