Page 48 of Ruinous Need

I hate this.

I love this.

I can feel every ridge of his cock. I can feel the moment his cockhead makes it fully inside me, lodging inside me with a painful stretch.

“Mmmph.” I let out a high-pitched sound as he enters me.

“Fuck,” he curses in a low voice, bringing a hand to caress my clit. The tender softness of it combined with the agonizing stretch of my pussy makes me gasp.

Then he drills his cock into me with a slow motion that drags against every inch of me.

“That’s it, stretch out that tight pussy to fit me inside you. Take me deep, Lisette,” he commands in a raspy groan. It feels like his cock is reshaping me, forcing my pussy to mould to take his size. I gasp as he rocks a little deeper.

Because I’m bound, immobile on the bed, I take him as deep as he wants to go.

The rope chafes against my body whenever I move an inch, the sensation sending tingling sparks through me. And I can’t stop writhing on my back as he slams himself inside me.

It’s agonizingly good. In a way that makes me think I’m going to regret it tomorrow.

“Please,” I choke out again. “Let me cum. Viktor, my clit, please.”

He presses hard on my clit and lets out a strained groan. I think he’s about to come inside me.

“Together. Now, little screamer.”

I live up to that nickname. He finishes with a deep groan, his muscled arms holding me down to the bed as I arch my back and finally let go.

The hot rush of his cum inside me makes it even better. I hadn’t even considered asking him to use protection. I bite my lip.

He’s staring at the mess we’ve created, but it doesn’t seem to worry him or gross him out.

As he slides out his cock, he uses his fingers to fuck his seed back into me, his eyes black with intent. “I like seeing my cum inside you.”

Viktor is gentle as he unties me. He kisses each spot where the binding chafed at my skin, rubbing the sore spots on my skin with a lotion that smells of roses.

CHAPTER 18

VIKTOR

MARKOV’S EYES ARE panicked as he bursts into the room.

“Viktor. Sir. The Irish. At the warehouse. I called for backup, but they were… They were asking about her.” He’s breathless and barely coherent. I take in the blood flowing from his shoulder. He’s been shot.

Fuck. I pull off my shirt and wrap it tightly into a tourniquet. He’ll need more than that, but right now, finding the Irish has to be the priority.

“Did you drive here?” He nods. It’s amazing he’s stayed conscious this long with this amount of blood loss, but he’s fading now.

He’s going to need someone to keep him awake. And to stop the blood loss from killing him before I get back.

“Lisette.” I wake her gently. Her pain has eased a little the last few days, but I wouldn’t disturb her rest unless it was urgent.

This could be life-or-death, looking at Markov’s pale face.

I think Markov’s lost so much blood that he’s drowsy and he doesn’t really process the fact that he’s walked in on us sleeping in the same bedroom. Lisette looks disoriented, wincing a little as she sits up.

I point at Markov and his bloody shoulder, as he sits heavily on the bed.

“The first aid kit is in the bathroom. Bandage his shoulder. Tight. And place a tourniquet here.” I indicate the spot on Markov’s arm, just above the gunshot.