Page 34 of His Darkest Obsession (Baryshev Bratva #1)

INDIGO

Reckless…

That should be the only word echoing in my mind right now, but it isn’t. I stare up at Anatoly as hot water rains down all around us.

But for the first time in two years, I no longer want it to scald me.

Not with how hot and smooth his massive cock feels in my hands. Not with how it seems to pulse in time with my own stuttering heart each time I run my hand to the thick base and draw back to the red engorged head.

It felt so massive in my hand when I held it without seeing. But now that it’s in front of me… I shiver as anticipation rushes through me, and I wonder if I can even fit it in my mouth.

I scoot closer to him on my knees, and he opens his legs apart to let me in.

Warm water runs down my back and my nipples brush against his powerful thighs.

Each point of contact sends another spark of pleasure rushing through me.

I squeeze his cock as I slow my movement, and feel how hard it pounds between my hands until a single drop of precum beads at the head.

“Fuck, printsessa.” He throws his head back, just like he had against the car before we were so rudely interrupted by thunder and lightning.

Did he know I was ready to fuck him back there?

Of course he knows, I think. There’s no way that he couldn’t have known. He must’ve known from the desperate way that I kissed him. He must’ve felt it from the urgency I unbuttoned him and grabbed at his belt.

And he definitely knew when I started grinding my pussy against his rock-hard cock under the rain.

Then why didn’t he fuck me? Or is this still part of our game? Even though both of us know that I lost this game a long time ago.

Is he still waiting for me to beg?

I bite my lip without realizing, and his eyes darken as he stares at me. Another drop of precum beads at the tip. And this time, when my hand moves from root to tip, it falls, trailing a strand of silk behind it.

I open my mouth to catch the drop without thinking, and taste him—salty and sweet all at once.

The muscles of his body tighten and flex, glistening with water. The tattoos that cover his body seem to come alive as I continue to stroke faster and faster.

“Did it feel good?” I breathe as I rise slightly so that his cock is inches away from my mouth. “Killing those men for me?”

Anatoly's jaw tightens, and his hand reaches forward until it fists in my hair.

“Yes,” he admits without a hint of remorse, and my heart starts beating faster at the certainty in his voice.

I pull his cock down, and kiss the underside of the pulsing head, and a low moan of pleasure rumbles up from his powerful chest. My hands guide his cock across my lips, smearing his essence across them in slow aching circles while my own pussy begins to throb between my legs with a familiar aching emptiness.

“And did it feel good?” Now it’s his turn to ask, his voice a rough whisper in the confined space of the shower. “Watching me kill for you?”

“Yes,” I confess as I continue rubbing his cock back and forth over my lips.

I can feel the power between us churning. It’s just like our first dinner together after the wedding. One of us holds a weapon, but the other wields its power.

Tonight, he held the knife, but I guided his hand.

And right now, I’m on my knees, yet he’s the one who’ll beg.

I move one hand to cup his heavy balls, and smile when I feel them shift under my grip. I rub him across my lips and over my cheek until his scent—heavy and masculine—settles so deep inside of my lungs that I know I’ll never get him out.

Leaning in close, I draw a line with my tongue from root to tip, and sweep another drop of precum into my mouth. His stomach clenches in response, and I do it again. And again. And again until he can no longer hold back his moan.

That’s when I pull back and ask.

“Do you like it when your wife kneels in front of you like a whore?”

His teeth clenches. “I do.”

“I thought nobody calls your wife a whore?” I start massaging his balls.

The fist in my hair tightens, and he leans down, growling. “Nobody but me.”

My mouth waters, and I lean in closer until my breasts are pressed against his thighs, and kiss my way up the length.

“And what about you?” He asks when I reach the tip and swirl my tongue around it. “Do you like being my wife and my whore?”

“Yes.” The admission sends a thrill through me. “I want to be your whore, Anatoly. Just not one who begs.”

A dark smile curls on his face despite his clenched teeth, and a muscle in his cheek twitches. “Do you expect me to beg you now, printsessa?”

“No.” My thumb circles the sensitive head. “I’m taking what I want. Isn’t that what a pakhan’s wife does?”

“Yes,” he breathes. “So take it.”

And I do.

Without breaking eye contact, I open my mouth and slide my lips over him. His eyes widen as he watches me swallow him down. A warm wave runs between my legs, and I keep inching forward until he reaches all the way to the back of my throat.

Then, I pull back, slowly at first until the tip slides past my lips again, and wrap one hand around the thick shaft while my other squeezes his heavy balls. Then, I plunge forward to take him to the root again.

His eyes are dark with hunger as he watches me deepthroat him.

In. Out.

One hand remains fixed in my hair while the other is pressed against the wall like he’s trying desperately to cling to something to tether him to reality—the same way that I did when he held me against that window on our wedding day.

I start moving faster, working him with my hands and tongue and mouth all at once. My eyes water with exertion, and tears start leaking out from the corners of my eyes. He peels himself off the wall and leans forward, his hand still tight in my hair but letting me control the pace.

A single large hand runs down my wet back, past the curve of my ass, and two thick fingers opens my pussy, wet and dripping. I clench reflexively but he keeps me open to deny me the pleasure of the squeeze.

I respond by speeding up my pace. He bends down further and pushes a single finger inside of my soaked cunt.

“You suck my cock so well,” he growls. “My perfect wife. My dirty whore.”

My head bobs up and down. Spit and precum mix in my mouth, dribbles down my chin, and splashes soundlessly amidst the crashing waters of the shower.

He inserts a single finger in, and the moment he does, I feel like my body squeezing greedily around it until pleasure crests like waves through my body.

I'm dangerously close to breaking. Dangerously close to pleading for release. But I just keep sucking him. Keep massaging his balls. Keep stroking his shaft. Keep listening to the moans punching out from his throat each time I take him deep down in mine.

The first pulse flutters against my tongue, light as a shadow. And my pussy clenches tighter around his finger as it happens.

Oh… Oh God…

The two of us shatter together as our orgasm crashes into us all at once. Hot ropes of salty semen fill my mouth while my soaked pussy clamps down around his finger. A trembling groan rips out of his throat as he cums, and I swallow as much and as fast as I can.

But it’s too much.

I’m forced to pull my head back, and a spurt of hot jizz spills across my face, my chin, and my tits. Without his cock in my mouth, I cry out loudly as I come around his finger.

My screams reverberate in the bathroom and for a moment, the two of us are suspended in bliss. We’re lost in the steamy hot water falling down all around us. Slowly, he withdraws his finger from me and licks it clean.

He hooks his finger under my chin and takes my hand in his. Together, we rise up, panting, and then he kisses me, hard and deep. Air drains from my lungs as the aftershocks of pleasure continue to course through my body. His tongue pushes into my mouth so that we can taste each other.

When we finally part, our eyes meet for a brief moment under the hot water. Shallow breaths inhale the same air. Our heartbeats slow until they beat as one. The electricity between us doesn’t diminish. If anything, it becomes more intense.

He turns me around and holds me close to his heaving chest, runs his hand over my body under the warm water, and lathers me up in soap to slowly wash his cum off. And when his lips brush my ear, and his searing breath tickles my cheek.

I lean back against the hard planes of his body and close my eyes as his large hands continue to roam my body under the warm water.

Next week, we’ll attend the gala where I’ll finally come face to face with Mayor Grant Bennet after two years.

After he ordered the death of my father to keep me silent.

When I married Anatoly, I wasn’t sure that he could deliver me what my heart wants even though he said that he would.

But now?

After what we did—both in that hellish basement and just now—I’m finally starting to believe that he’ll keep his promise.