Page 118 of His Darkest Obsession

And that's when the best part happens.

Because every time after we fuck like this, he'll pull me close to his chest while he sits on his haunches so that I might nestle myself in his warm embrace while his cock rests inside of me. And every time he pulls me up, I wriggle my sweaty back against his muscular torso and turn to bring his lips to mine for a kiss that I never want to end.

It's moments like these—the quiet aftermath to our marathon of sex—that I cherish above all else.

"What are you thinking?" His voice is a low rumble in his chest against my back when he finally breaks the kiss.

I lean back against his shoulder, look up at his eyes, and smile through my exhaustion. "That you've ruined me for anyone else."

"Good."

His arm tightens possessively around me. One hand grasps my throat while the other draws slow lazy circles around my clit.

"Now who's trying to kill who?" I breathe as my pussy flutters reflexively under his touch and my hips start rolling on their own.

Suddenly, three sharp knocks knock against the door, quick and urgent, just as his cock starts hardening again.

"Leave it," I whisper. "Fuck me again. Just one more time."

He presses a kiss to my shoulder. A kiss becomes a bite. And then his hips start to move.

But the knock comes again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

This time, it's joined by Roma's voice. "Tolya! We need to talk. Now."

"Fuck." Anatoly snarls as he releases me. "I can't ignore this."

Suddenly, everything falls away. The warmth of his body. The possessive hand around my neck. The sharp scrape of teeth on my shoulder.

And then the hard shaft of his cock pulls out of me, and I whimper at the sudden emptiness.

I turn slowly and watch him as he steps off the bed and pulls on his pants without a single wasted movement.

"I'll be right back," he says, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"I should get up too," I stretch languidly before sitting up. My heart skips a beat when I see him staring. "It's getting late. We can pick this up after you're done."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He presses a kiss to my forehead, the tip of my nose, and then finally on my lips.

Then, he opens the door just enough to slip through, and then closes it shut behind him.

I fall back against the sweat-soaked sheets. My heart pounds like it might burst through my ribs. The scent of sex hangs heavy in the air.

It's been four weeks of this. Four weeks of surrendering to desires I'd locked away for the last two years. Each time we come together, I feel myself breaking apart in the most delicious way against his hands, his mouth, and his cock.

And yet every time we finish, I can't wait for more. My body feels alive in ways I never thought possible. I crave him constantly, like an addiction I have no interest in breaking.

But I can't stay in this bed forever, at least not without him here.

I force myself to rise from the comfort of our bed, wincing a little as I stand on rubbery knees. My body aches in the most satisfying way possible. Every sore muscle reminds me of Anatoly's hands, his mouth, his body against mine.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I cross the room. My red hair is now coming in at the roots, and my skin is decorated with fresh marks from Anatoly's mouth.

I grab a soft t-shirt and cotton shorts I'd carelessly thrown to the side of the bed last night. They smell like him now. Everything does.

After slipping them on, I check myself in the mirror again and run my fingers through my messy hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it. It's pointless. Anyone who sees me will know exactly what I've been doing.