Page 139 of Jewel of the Assassin

“Horosho devochka,” he praises me. “Dripping over her master’s cock, worshiping her king, her god.”

He feeds the deep ache inside me. His heart pounds against my back as I grip him harder, squeezing my inner muscles. Everything has culminated in these moments. Every time he hits the back of my hot cunt, I curse and cry, digging my nails into his hips, his thighs, anywhere I can reach.

Gripping my hair with one hand, Roman yanks my head back until he’s stabbing his tongue down my throat. Fucking me so violently, so deliciously from behind. I kiss him back, hard, but he attacks and mauls my mouth with his hunger, surging raw waves of lust through my being.

Blood and flesh. Skin and bones. Heart to heart.

And head to soul.

He takes what he wants. I give him what he needs.

My husband’s teeth find my shoulder, sinking in, and I sob at the utter high he’s taking me to, convinced I’ll touch the very edge of heaven. As long as he always brings me back to him…

“Your Idol” would be perfect for this moment. Maybe “Golden”. Oh, fuck it!

I choke on the pleasure, my core on the barest verge of splitting into a crazed orgasmic haze.

And then, a solid strike lands on my ass. I yelp. The moment he pulls out, I moan in sexual frustration before spinning around and attacking him, ripping at his bloodied hair, nails raking down the sides of his neck. Feral femininity throwing down with primal masculinity. I can’t escape. Can’t resist. I burn up inside his emerald gaze.

I know he will win. I start the battle. Roman ends the war. And leaves nothing but a massacre in his wake. Fried nerve endings. Welts and stripes. A pussy so stretched and beat up, I’llfeel the flames for days. I’ll spend three days in bed recovering until I can walk again. And him, playing the attentive and devoted healer the whole time.

His heavy cock throbs between us, and I reach for him, but he smacks my hands away and grips my hips.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous, Valya,” he growls while lifting my body and dumping me on the edge of the altar. “Fucking perfect, made for me.”

With Anton’s fleshy carcass at my back, Roman spreads my legs and lowers himself, sinking to his goddamn knees. “Oh, God, don’t stop!” I screech, tangling my hands in his hair as he grinds his mouth against me, tongue like wet velvet stroking every inch of my inner and outer labia, then circling my clit with all his expertise.

I remember the first night together, how he vowed to destroy me and to remake me.

Tonight, we destroyed our enemies.

Now, we are destroying each other. And we will remake each other, piece by piece.

One more circle of his tongue around my clit, and I come in a torrent of hot bliss, the arousal creaming his face. I’m still climaxing when he rises, grips the underside of my thighs, and slams into me with ruthless abandon.

“You love it rough, don’t you, Moya Koroleva?” he says low and dark in my ear while pounding into me, igniting all my senses. “Love it when I hurt you, punish you. Getting off on all the pain I can give you.”

Because the heights of unholy bliss are indescribable.

“Fucking you in a church, drowning in the blood of our enemies,” he breathes hotly against my lips.

“We’re going to hell,” I moan and tip my head back as he grinds into me, setting my pussy on fire.

“Mmm…I’ll build you a throne from the bones of ten thousand demons and the devil himself will bow to hell’s new queen.”

My ass chafes against the cold stone, wet with Anton’s blood. And with every thrust, I hit the side of his body.

Roman licks the outline of the crown brand on my chest and rumbles a low growl, “You are my deepest sin, Valentina Makarova. And my highest divinity.”

He unleashes. The force of how he fucks me is like a war hammer, sending my pulse into a tailspin. The earth tilts off its axis, and the orgasm wrenches my spirit right from the church into another dimension. He power-fucks me through it, spiraling with me, catching me in that other dimension before dragging me back down.

Roman Makarova will never let me go.

“Get on your back, Valya.”

It’s all he says after he pulls out, leaving my pussy gushing with both our fluids, leaving a little well on the floor in front of the altar. I screw my brows low, infuriated by him stopping when his cock is still a raging beast slapping against his thigh.

He’s nowhere near finished with me. The tension in his back, in his ramrod spine, and bulging muscles confirm it.