Page 64 of Deceptive Vows

So hot it radiates all over me and my skin tingles from the sensation.

He holds me against the wall as we calm from the explosion of pleasure, and I watch the pleasure on his face.

I take it all in. The chisel of his handsome face, his high exotic cheekbones, his honey-colored eyes with a twinkle that disappears so quickly it was like it was never there.

Then the moment shatters when he pulls his cock out of me and I slump forward, feeling like he’s stolen a part of my life-force.

He’s still holding my face. He loosened his grip while he was fucking me. Now it’s tight again.

Something wet and sticky runs down my thighs, and I glance down in horror at it.

It’s a mixture of blood and cum, evidence of what just happened and what it means. I watch his cum overpower the blood, a metaphor for us.

He looks down at it, too, and taps the edge of my chin so I look at him.

“That means you belong to me now, Malyshka. You’re mine. My woman. No matter what happens, you will always remember I was the one who took your innocence.”

He releases me, and I slump against the wall, too weak to stand, too weak to breathe or do anything besides look at him.

“I took your innocence, and I know your secret,” he adds with a pensive stare.

My eyes go wide. “What secret?”

“You wanted me to take you.” A wicked smile lifts the corners of his firm lips. “I felt the moment you gave yourself to me. Now you know that I know.”

I can’t even feel relieved he’s not talking about my bigger, darker secret because what he’s saying is true.

He backs away, and I watch him walk out the door, never looking back as he leaves me naked again, feeling ashamed and cold, broken on the floor.

I should be used to him leaving by now. This time just feels different.

Every day here has either ended or begun with something to jar me.

Tonight is no different.

I just have a new problem.

18

Mikhail

She’s wearing clothes now.

A dusty pink camisole top similar to what she had on the other night clings to her body. The tiny straps have slinked down her shoulders and expose the huge swells of her breasts.

I can just glimpse a nipple poking through the thin fabric.

If she were awake, she’d fix her top straightaway even though I’ve seen her naked several times.

But my princess is fast asleep, and she looks like a life-sized doll lying on my bed with the silk sheets barely covering her.

Ebony hair is sprawled out over the silk pillows while the moonlight kisses her skin the way I want to.

I’m as envious of the fucking moon for touching her as I am of her feelings toward José.

It’s late—after midnight late—so I knew she’d be asleep. She was already exhausted. I just stole the last traces of her strength.

I like watching her sleep.