Page 41 of Hateful Vows

When she comes, she smothers me fully and I’d die like this.

My cock hurts with how hard it is but I don’t care, I lap at Irina’s entrance until she lifts herself off me, straddling my hips. Her mouth replaces her pussy and she tastes herself on my lips with an appreciative hum.

“Are you okay?” she asks, a dopey kind of look in her eyes that must be reflected on my face.

Her silky black hair creates a curtain around us, giving the illusion of a private alcove.

With trembling hands, I glide the strands behind her ears, my heart so full I’m scared it might come out of my chest. It beats a wild drum inside my ribcage and if she wanted to, I’d let her rip me open to get the warm organ to her altar.

I’d be the first pagan sacrificed at the altar of my new God.

“Never been better,” I whisper, too afraid to spook her and break this moment.

With her eyes set on mine, bright with lust and something I don’t want to name for fear of having it disappear, Irina slowly lifts herself and takes hold of my cock.

She slides it in, agonisingly slow, with intention.

Without a single word, she shows me what’s been brewing between us since that very first day sixteen years ago.

There will be no excuses, no dismissing. There’s a purpose to how she takes me inside her this time, and it’s not only pleasure. A strange wetness glides at the corner of my eye and Irina tracks it as it moves along my temple, then down to the floor.

A tear, I realise.

Hope, joy, love.

All these emotions that were destroyed from inside us by the evil man I had to call father bloom inside my chest, the mirror that is Irina slowly starting to move above me. Tentative at first, before she rides me in earnest.

Lifting up on my shaft before she drops back down, Irina sets a vicious rhythm that doesn’t leave any space for thoughts and doubts.

“You’re mine,” she says, hands planted on my chest, eyes blazing with possessive desire.

My balls draw impossibly tighter at being claimed by her.

I catch her throat in my hand. “And you’re mine.”

Her breath hitches before she releases a guttural moan, coming from deep inside her chest.

I squeeze harder on the airways at the side of her throat. Her eyelids flutter close.

“Fuck, you do like being at my mercy, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

It unleashes me.

I fuck her from underneath, using my free hand to jerk her hips harder on my cock, grunting like a mad man.

Irina hisses and arches, barely bracing herself on me anymore.

She lets me use her body, her long nails drawing blood as she rakes them down my chest. I hope the lines scar, more proof of how much I belong to her.

I release the blood flow, loosening my fingers at her throat and she gasps, moaning loudly.

“Who’s owning this pussy, malyshka ? Tell your husband how good your brother gives it to you.”

We both know we’ve never been siblings, but the forbidden of it all has delicious lust spreading through me as I watch her face contort in ecstasy.

“Fuck. You! You, Aleksei. You’re gonna make me come.”

The whimpers and moans she makes have me feral and I grasp both hips, determined to have her come on my cock. I need her to give herself to me fully and I need it now.

“Touch that needy clit, malyshka . Come on my cock like the perfect, desperate girl you are. So fucking perfect for my dick, taking it like you’ve always been mine.”

The words come out unbidden, Irina’s walls pulsating around me. My vision turns fuzzy at the edges, my orgasm drawing near. I watch in awe as Irina pulls on her nipple and slaps her clit in fast and hard successions before she soars to her climax.

And I follow, filling her up.

When our climax recedes, I withdraw and take in the sight of her cunt leaking cum. With two fingers, I slowly press it back into her, massaging her G-spot and loving the way she squirms under my touch.

“You can give me one more,” I tell her.

She shakes her head side to side, eyes closed and a pained expression on her perfect face, but she doesn’t stop me. I wring another orgasm from her body as she comes with a weakened moan that I swallow with a possessive kiss. How will I ever get enough?

On shaky legs, using my shirt as a makeshift dress to avoid flashing any of the men scattered around the manor or maybe Mariella, we walk to Dante and Irina’s bedroom.

The made bed and absence of any of her usual favourite bathroom essentials tell me they don’t use it, and I feel relieved at that.

It’s not a place they have kept me away from, unwilling to share with me.

I take my time to wash Irina’s body, not letting her lift a finger. I kiss the tattoo with Dante’s name on it, then just look as she takes a black suit and white shirt out of the closet and lays it on the bed for me.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d ever need it, but it’s your size,” she says without looking at me, dressing herself in a similar attire.

We’ve never been good at expressing ourselves.

I thank her, and we continue our silent dance as we make our way downstairs and eat dinner.

I don’t tell her how much the simple fact that she thought of me in this space makes me feel like I’d endure my father’s abuse all over again just to reach this very moment.

I don’t tell her how much I love her.

After we clean up, I send the video to Dante, hoping he jerks off to it on his way back to us.

“Send it to me, too,” Irina says, feigning nonchalance, but she bites her lip and it makes mine tip up into a full blown shit-eating grin.