Page 29 of Her Darkest Possession (Baryshev Bratva #2)

INDIGO

I gasp as Anatoly slowly begins to roll my waistband down until my ass is exposed to the cool air of the dining room. A shiver runs through me—from the temperature or anticipation, I'm not sure. Maybe both.

I moan softly and continue to grind my hips against his, feeling him hard beneath me. The friction sends delicious waves of pleasure through my body, but something inside me shifts. I want more. I want something different.

"Stop," I whisper against his lips, my breath coming in short pants.

Anatoly freezes and pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine with confusion and concern.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice husky with desire but edged with worry.

I smile at him reassuringly and shake my head. "Nothing's wrong," I murmur. "There's just something I want to do first."

His eyes darken with understanding as I reach down and pull my sweater over my head in one fluid motion, and toss it aside. His gaze travels hungrily over my exposed skin, and I feel beautiful under his attention.

Slowly, I shift off his lap, sliding down between his legs until I'm kneeling on the floor before him. I push his knees apart gently, making space for myself between them. My fingers trail up his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles beneath the fabric of his pants.

Looking up at Anatoly from between his thighs, I feel a surge of confidence and desire. His eyes are molten blue, fixed on me with such intensity I can almost feel his gaze like a physical touch.

"Do you want to make me happy, Tolya?" I ask.

"Of course I do."

With deliberate slowness, I unbuckle his belt. Without ever breaking eye contact, I lower the zipper of his pants.

"Do you know what would make me happy right now?"

His breathing growing heavier with each passing second. His hands grip the arms of the chair tightly, knuckles turning white as I reach for his belt.

I reach inside and pull out his hard and smooth shaft, feeling the throbbing heat of it between my fingers.

"What will make me happy is to feel this cock in my mouth." My voice is barely above a whisper as I stroke him slowly.

His jaw clenches and his thighs tense around me.

"Feel it punch the back of my throat." I circle my thumb over his sensitive tip, and wipe away a drop of slippery precum leaking from the slit.

I wet my lips, feeling a rush of boldness. "And suck you until you're dry."

Anatoly's breath comes out in a harsh exhale, his hands moving from the chair to tangle in my blue hair. He doesn't push me forward though—he's giving me control, letting me take what I want at my own pace.

"If that's what would make my wife happy," he says, his voice rough and heavy. "Then who am I to deny her?"

I wrap my lips around Anatoly's cock and take him all the way down my throat.

He groans above me, a deep rumbling sound that vibrates through his body as my tongue lashes against his sensitive tip.

I hollow my cheeks and suck hard on my way up, pulling a strangled moan from him that sends a surge of power down my spine and an aching wet heat between my legs. My hand wraps around what doesn't fit in my mouth, and I start stroking in rhythm with my lips.

"Fuck, Indigo..." he growls.

I cup his balls with my free hand, rolling and massaging them gently while I bob my head faster, taking him deeper with each downward motion. The rhythm is reckless, desperate. My blue hair falls forward, and he reaches to brush it back, trying to slow my movements by gripping the strands.

I slap his hand away without missing a beat. This is my show. My pace.

"Slow down," he pants. "You're going too fast."

I speed up in response, my mouth sliding up and down his length with relentless determination. My jaw aches, but I don't care. The wet, obscene sounds of my mouth devouring him fill the dining room.

"Fuck," he groans, his thighs tensing beneath my hands. "You're going to make me explode. Make me lose control."

I pull back, releasing him with a pop. His cock glistens with my saliva, red and throbbing. I run my tongue along the prominent vein on the underside, tracing it from base to tip while maintaining eye contact.

"That's exactly what I want," I tell him, my voice raspy. "I want you to lose control. For me."

Before he can respond, I take him back into my mouth, deeper this time. Wet, obscene sounds echo in the dining room as I work him with renewed vigor. Our moans mix together. I take him to the back of my throat and back out again.

His cock starts to swell in my mouth, growing impossibly harder than before.

And then, with a single guttural roar, he erupts.

I moan as the first hot pulse of salty semen hits the back of my throat. I swallow greedily and eagerly, refusing to let a single drop escape. His hips buckle and roll under my chin, and incoherent swears fall from his lips while I milk every last drop from him.

When I finish, I look up at him as I release him from my mouth.

And before he can react, I spit on his cock.

I don't know why I did that. Maybe it's because of the fact that there's part of me that's gone mad with the possibility of losing hm. Maybe it's from our earlier confession of love for each other.

Or maybe, I just want to claim him in a way that I haven't claimed him yet.

But whatever my reasons, it provokes the exact reaction I want from him.

Darkness crosses into his eyes and he yanks me up to my feet by my neck. My heart skips at the wild hunger in his eyes.

He doesn't have to say a word for me to know what he's about to do.

In one swift motion, he pushes me against the dining table. With the same motion, he moves me up the hard surface until my legs kick uselessly against empty air. He looks down at me, and I pant in anticipation at what's about to happen next.

"Do you know what would make me happy right now?" His voice is raspy as he asks.

Obedient, I prop my feet up on the edges of the table and spread my legs open for him even as my pants bind me by my ankles.

His hands run down my thighs, past the map of scars crisscrossing my skin, until a thick finger pushes inside of me. I gasp at the way he stretches me, and moan when he hooks it to touch my G spot.

A second later, he pulls his hand away, and I desperately reach forward to bring him back.

With one hand still on my neck, he slowly licks his finger clean.

"I want to taste your soaked pussy," he growls. "I want feast on you until I'm drowning in it."

He leans closer, his breath hot against my face as he starts kissing his way down my neck, my breasts, my belly, and finally comes to a rest between my trembling legs. "I want to swallow every drop of your sweet cunt."

The crude words from his mouth send a shiver through me and makes me even wetter than I am. Powerful fingers spread me open further as he kneels between my legs.

I prop myself up on my elbows, look down at him from the table, and a wicked smile plays at my lips. "Then come take it."

And that's exactly what Anatoly does. He closes his mouth around my pussy and I throw my head back against the table at how good it feels.

My entire body rises from the table as his hot tongue laves along my folds, drawing a straight line until it swirls quickly around my throbbing clit.

"Oh god... Tolya..." I gasp, my fingers clutching desperately at the edge of the table.

He hums against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my core. My hips buck involuntarily, but the weight of his hand around my neck keeps me pinned, keeps me in place, and keeps me restrained while he takes everything I'm giving him and everything he needs.

"Don't stop," I breathe, my voice breaking against the weight. "Please don't stop."

He slides two fingers inside me while his tongue continues its assault on my clit. At the same time, a finger slides into my mouth. When they start to move in time with his swirling tongue, the pleasure is almost too much.

Almost.

He knows exactly how to work me. Tongue flicks, teeth graze, and lips pull and tug until I'm writhing like my body just touched a live wire.

Then, he pulls away for a brief moment. Cool night air hits my slick cunt for a moment. My eyes fly open just in time to see his cheeks hollow.

And then he spits.

The saliva lands right on my pussy, and the filthiness of the act pushes me over the edge. It's the hottest fucking thing I've ever felt.

And it pushes me right over the edge.

My eyes roll into the back of my head.

A scream rips out of my throat.

My voice breaks.

Hips rise.

And I fucking come harder than I've ever come in the past.

Pleasure explodes out from the depth of my dripping cunt, past my screaming clit, and rushes to the top of my head. Sweat beads and rolls down my body, and I shriek out in pleasure.

His hand around my neck tightens. "You like it when I spit on your dirty pussy?"

"Yes!" I sob, hips writhing as if begging him to do it again.

And he does.

Anatoly spits on my pussy again, hitting my oversensitive clit. The effect is even more intense than before.

An immediate aftershock of pleasure crashes through me, and I moan like a whore at how fucking good it feels.

He licks a long deliberate, path up my slit, tasting both of us together, before finally releasing the grip around my throat.

I gasp as air floods back into my lungs. The sudden rush of oxygen makes my vision swim. Stars dance behind my eyelids like tiny fireworks.

The combination of relief and lingering pleasure leaves me dizzy.

When I force my eyes open, I see Anatoly has positioned himself between my trembling thighs.

His cock is hard again already, the tip angry and red, with a single pearly drop of cum from earlier still clinging to the slit.

He pulls roughly to the edge until my ass is hanging off the edge of the table.

"Spit in my mouth," I hear myself say, barely recognizing my own voice—raspy and desperate. "Spit on my face, spit on my tits."

I'm lost in this new craving. Lost in how dirty I am for him and how good it feels to be this filthy.

"Spit on every inch of me. Make me dirty. Make me a fucking mess. Please. Please!"

Then, to encourage him, I stick out my tongue and wait.

For a single heartbeat that seems to last forever, he stares down at me, his expression unreadable.

I worry that I might've crossed a line, that he might refuse this filthy request.

But then his eyes darkens and he leans forward, gathering saliva in his mouth before letting it fall in a perfect stream right onto my waiting tongue.

Before I can even swallow, he pulls back slightly, then spits again—this time right on my face. It hits my cheek just as he thrusts forward, burying himself inside me in one powerful stroke.

I cry out as he spears me completely. He doesn't wait for me to adjust before he starts pounding into me, hard and rough and fast. The table rocks beneath us. Plates and glasses and silverware rattle all around us.

"Do you like it when I spit on you?" he growls.

"Yes!" I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.

He drives deeper, his pace relentless. "Do you like it when I make you dirty?"

"Yes!" The word breaks on a moan as he hits that perfect spot inside me.

His hand finds my throat again and his thumb pushes the saliva on my cheek into my mouth. "Do you like it when I make you a fucking mess?"

"Yes!" I scream, my voice echoing off the dining room walls.

Anatoly bends down until his lips brush against my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

"No," he whispers, "You don't like it..." His hips slam into me with every word. "You fucking love it. And I fucking love how dirty you are for me. Only for me."

"Yes!" I sob, overwhelmed by pleasure and the truth of his words. "Yes!"

He captures my mouth in a fierce kiss that tastes like both of us. I wrap my legs tightly around his hips, locking my ankles at the small of his back. I refuse to let him go, refuse to create even an inch of space between us.

"I love it," I moan against his mouth when I break the kiss. "I love being dirty with you. I love being nasty for you."

His cock shudders inside of me.

"I love it when you fuck me like you own me."

Another orgasm moves through me, stronger than the last. I grab his face between my hands, and force him to look at me as I feel his cock twitching and emptying itself into me.

Our eyes lock, and in that moment of pure vulnerability, I whisper the truth we've both finally embraced:

"I love you."