Page 40 of Emerald

The first orgasm I had with Ivan was the wildest and strongest of my life.

The second replaces it completely.

I’m starting to worry that I might not survive a third.

Even before I’m done panting and shaking, Ivan loses his last shred of patience. He climbs on top of me and thrusts that thick, gorgeous cock inside of me.

I’ve never felt a sensation quite like it. His cock is like steel encased in velvet. It fits inside me like it was made for me, like its only purpose is to give me pleasure in exactly the ways I want.

I think Ivan Petrov is in the wrong business.

He should make a mold of himself and sell it to women worldwide.

I’ve hardly amused myself with that thought before I’m flushed through with jealousy at the very idea.

I found this perfect specimen, and I want to keep him all for myself.

Ivan slings my limp legs over his shoulders. He plows into me with all his strength. His whole body flexes as he drives deep inside of me, grunting like a beast.

He kisses my mouth, my throat, my breasts. He’s touching me in a dozen places at once, attacking the whole of my body with his. He’s letting out every ounce of that frustration and rage that was bottled up inside of him.

I’ve never been overpowered like this.

I usually fight to maintain control.

But with Ivan, I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to struggle.

I let myself be swept away by him, consumed by him. I don’t feel frightened or confined. Paradoxically, it’s freeing in a way I’ve never experienced before. For once I don’t have to plan or take action. All I have to do is go along with it, experience it.

He’s the brush and I’m the paint. He’s the wind and I’m the bird.

He’s bringing me to climax once more. This time I don’t clench or squirm or try to hold it back in any way. I just let the pleasure surge through every cell of my body.

He wraps me up in his arms. He crushes me against his body until I can’t move at all. The only thing moving is his cock, sliding in and out of me, inch by inch. He squeezes me tighter and tighter as he erupts inside of me. I can’t breathe from how tight he’s holding me, and yet I don’t want him to let go.

And he doesn’t, not even after he finishes. We lay together on that shitty old mattress, with his arms enveloping me.

Only then do I remember that I’m locked in a cell with this man. That I was planning to escape.

Ivan seems to remember the same thing.

He lets go of me and says, “Do you want to come upstairs and take a shower?”

I can’t help my look of surprise and suspicion.

“Come upstairs?”

“Yeah. I thought you’d want to get cleaned up.”

His tone is as gruff as ever, but I see the way he’s looking at me, watching my face, waiting to see if I’ll accept his offer.

He’s trying to be kind to me.

How odd.

“Uh, okay,” I say.

I’m not going to turn down his offer. I’ve been washing off in the sink, but that’s not the same thing as a proper shower with shampoo.