Page 14 of Jewel of the Assassin

“Horosho devochka.” I say, then translate, my voice deep and thick with approval. “Good girl.”

A shiver surges through her. She blinks. And those tears glisten on her cheeks through the strands of golden hair.

I trace my tongue along the delicate curves of her labia and circle my fingers inside her. Her pussy clenches.

“Do you feel pain, Moya Koroleva?”

She parts her lips, but nothing comes out. Gaze locked on hers, I flick her clit with my tongue, smirking when she gasps.

“Answer me, Valentina,” I say sharply. “Or I will bite you in a place you will feel every time you try to walk away from me.”

“Okay, okay!” she huffs, then clenches around my fingers again. “I honestly forgot about the pain.”

“Mmm…Otlichno.” Excellent.

I dive back to her heavenly center.

It takes all my strength not to tear off all the clothes and fuck her like a beast. That will come in time. But a woman like Valentina Makarova needs other things first. I may be a damn devil, but I know how to pleasure a woman. And how to build her up until she’s ready to fall to her knees.

So, I softly thrust my fingers in and out of her opening. Her body softens into the sheets, but her hips lift. I’m fucked for this woman. Ravenous for her.

I’ve never been this hard. Valentina Makarova calls out the monster in me. I want to savage her, to ruin every untamed, exquisite inch of her.

I’ve had many women. Never a virgin. She is the only virgin I was ever interested in. She will be my first. And the last woman I will ever have.

Withdrawing my fingers, I tease her slick opening while licking her luscious folds, then train my attention on the sweet, swollen nub of her femininity. She twists. I let her struggle, struggle with the fear and defiance and most of all…desire. At last, she sighs and practically rolls her hips, seeking more.

I have her.

All her resistance crumbles.

I kiss her inflamed folds. I feed on her, gorging on her delectable heat. Finally, I draw her clit between my lips and suck tenderly, feeling her inner muscles flutter.

Fingers pausing inside her, I lift my other hand, cup her soft, high breast, and curl my thumb over her taut nipple.

She hisses, then moans, throwing her head back. She clamps down on my fingers. A long, shrill screech fills the room as I lick her through the orgasm, stabbing her clit with mytongue, pumping my fingers, and tweaking her nipple. Those taut buds are hypersensitive, and I will enjoy tormenting the immaculate rosy tips.

As she cries out at the peak, more fluids escape, gushing around my fingers, creaming my entire hand, and leaving a well of her release between her thighs.

Finally, she comes down, her breaths quick and ragged. Her eyes burn against mine, silently punishing me. Not for ruling her in these moments. But because of how good I made her feel.

Valentina blushes beet red. I smile wickedly. And while I lower the hem of her silk nightgown, I do not unshackle her. She’s flushed and panting, trembling under my hands.

As much as I long to eat her out more and test her boundaries, the outer door opens, ushering in a chain of staff. The delicious scent of my wife’s meal drifts in the air.

Zina steps inside like she owns the room—her presence both soothing and slightly uncanny. With her broad hips and comfortable plumpness, she moves with the confident grace of a woman who’s run estates, buried secrets, and hexed a man or two. My estates. My secrets. And the men who crossed her? Nothing saved them from my wrath. It’s why she stayed with me, became my house matron, and earned her place here.

And she does it all wearing a soft pastel apron, embroidered with tiny black skulls and trimmed with delicate lace. I know she also keeps a small revolver strapped low on her thigh and a knife hidden in her skirt.

The apron and dress hug her generous curves, swaying as she walks. Sharp cheekbones and her icy blue eyes miss nothing.

But it’s the crow that captures Valentina’s attention.

The sleek black bird perches on Zina’s shoulder, feathers glossy, eyes gleaming with intelligence. My wife is intrigued. She peers at the bird with slow curiosity.

Zina meets Valentina’s gaze with a small, practiced nod and warm smile, helping to put her mistress at ease. Valentina will know those who serve her.

I will not be so gentle.