Page 33 of Twisted Fate

I’ve never felt anything like this before. I’ve never felt desire that seemed to consume me, that burned through my blood, that made me ache and pulse, so wet that I can feel it dripping down the inside of my thighs. I’ve never come as hard as I did last night.

It has to be tonight. I know it does. I think frantically as Konstantin breaks the kiss, his mouth sliding down my neck as his hand finds my breast, his thumb rolling over my stiffening nipple and sending jolts of pleasure straight down to my swollen, pulsing clit.

His security hasn’t arrived yet. For all I know, he’ll only want the one night.

There’s dozens of reasons not to wait, and only one to wait—the fact that I want to fuck him again.

I want it so badly that the thought of never having him again after tonight makes it feel hard to breathe.

His mouth slides over my nipple where his thumb was a moment before, licking, sucking, and my hips arch up as I moan, my fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders. Konstantin groans, looking up at me with pupils blown dark.

"I want to hear that sound again," he says, his voice rough with desire. "I want to hear all the sounds you can make for me. I want to hear what you sound like when I’m inside of you, volchitsa ."

Heat floods me. I’ve seduced men before, but this time it’s me being seduced. I can feel it. Every part of me is longing for him, yearning for him, and I let my head fall back as I arch and writhe beneath him, begging for more.

“I want to taste you again,” he growls, as he moves down my body.

“I want you to come on my face again, volchitsa , before I give you this cock. Can you do that for me, Sophia?” My name is rough on his tongue, and for the first time in my entire life, an ache sweeps through me, a longing to hear him say my name.

Not the name in my dossier, not the name I gave him, but my real name.

I want to hear him moan Valentina as he comes.

No one has ever moaned my real name. No man I’ve fucked has ever known who I really was.

“Yes,” I gasp instead, as his mouth grazes my inner thigh. “Please, Konstantin. Make me come for you.”

I nearly scream with pleasure when his mouth latches between my legs, his tongue lashing over my clit as he pushes two fingers inside of me, fingering me roughly as he licks and sucks at my tender, swollen clit.

I buck up against his face, riding his tongue, desperate for another orgasm like the one he gave me last night, knowing as pleasure washes over me that I’ll never feel anything this good again.

The way he makes me feel is addictive. And it fucking terrifies me.

But not enough to stop.

“That’s it, volchitsa ,” he growls, pausing just long enough to look up at me. “Let me hear you howl.”

When he sucks my clit between his lips, pulsing it in his mouth as his tongue lashes over the sensitive flesh, the pleasure hits me like an explosion.

I cry out, fingers clawing at the sheets, at his shoulders, his hair, my hips writhing against his mouth as I come hard for him.

He groans against me, sucking and licking through my orgasm until I’m limp and boneless on the bed, gasping as I shudder beneath him.

Only then does he slide up over me, his hand shifting between my legs as he angles his cock between my thighs. I gasp as I feel the thick, blunt head against my entrance, his bare skin meeting mine.

I’ve never fucked someone without a condom before. I’ve always been on the pill, just in case—something that I didn’t stop when I married Konstantin, though he doesn’t know it—but I’ve always managed to convince my marks to use protection.

“Wait—” I press my hand against his chest. “Do you have a condom?”

His gaze meets mine, hot and dark as his hips nudge forward, pushing the thick tip of his cock inside of me. Even the tip feels almost too large, stretching me open, filling me, and I gasp, moaning at the pressure and sensation of it.

“You’re my wife, volchitsa ,” he growls.

“I’ve never fucked a woman bare before, but I won’t have anything between you and I.

” Another snap of his hips, as another inch of his hot, hard length slides into me, bare and throbbing.

“I’ll fuck you until I fill you with my cum, volchitsa .

And you’ll take—” Another thrust. “Every—” Another.

“Fucking—” Another inch, and I gasp, writhing under him as I wonder if I can take it all. “Drop.”

He thrusts forward savagely, sinking into me to the hilt.

My back arches, my hands clawing at the sheets at the force of his thrust, my eyes closing.

I feel his hand grip my chin, his hips rocking against me as he drives into me as deeply as he can.

“I want your eyes on me, Sophia. Watch me as I fuck you. Watch me as I fill you up.”

His hips snap against mine again. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it, volchitsa ? So look at me while you take my fucking cock.”

It is what I wanted. Too much , I think dimly as he slides out and thrusts into me again, hard.

I wanted this too much. I still do. It feels so good, every inch, every thrust as he pins me to the bed and fucks me, his gaze holding mine with a primal ferocity that feels as if it’s flaying me open, revealing every desire, every need I’ve ever had.

“So fucking tight,” he groans. “So fucking perfect. Like your pussy was made for my fucking cock.”

He thrusts again, hard, and his arm slides under me, curling around my waist as he turns us without ever sliding out of me or slowing the pace of his thrusts. He fucks me, hard and steady, as he leans me back against the pillows, looming over me as his thick cock fills me again and again.

“Take it all, volchitsa ,” he growls. “I want you to come on my cock before I fill you up.”

I hadn’t thought I could. He isn’t touching my clit, but every part of his cock feels like it’s touching every raw nerve inside of me, pushing me toward another explosive orgasm.

And then, just when I think I’m going to have to beg him to touch me where I need it the most, he shifts, angling himself so that every thrust causes him to rub against my aching clit.

“There you are, volchitsa ,” he murmurs. “Take what you need. Come on my cock. Come all over my fucking cock?—”

His voice, rasping those filthy words in his Russian accent, mingled with the pressure of his pelvis against my clit and the relentless, hard thrust of his too-thick cock, pushes me over the edge.

My fingers curl against his shoulders, nails raking down his skin as I arch underneath him, crying out his name as I come for a second time.

I feel myself clench around his length, rippling around him as I writhe and buck and come harder than I ever have with a man inside of me, and Konstantin groans as he thrusts all the way into me again.

“Christ, your pussy is so fucking tight,” he groans. “You feel like fucking heaven?—-”

He thrusts again, once more, and I feel him stiffen, feel him throb inside of me as he curses aloud, grabbing the headboard with one hand.

His hips rock against me, his head falling back as I see him start to shudder, ripples of pleasure coursing through his body as I feel the first hot spurt of his cum inside of me.

I’ve never let anyone come inside of me like this before.

I claw at his back, half in pleasure and half in fear, despite the fact that I know I’m on the pill.

There’s something raw and primal about it, something that I’ve never experienced with anyone before, and I don’t know how to feel about the fact that it’s him, now, that this is happening with.

The man that I’m going to kill before the sun rises tomorrow.

My hand twitches. I could reach for the knife under my pillow. I could do it now, while he’s still in the throes of his climax, his hot cum still spurting inside of me. I can still feel him throbbing, his body shuddering with each new wave of pleasure.

But I don’t. I cling to him, my body clenching around him as he comes inside of me, and as I feel him slowly relax, I know the moment has passed.

He groans, his mouth pressing against my shoulder as he slowly slides out of me. I feel the warmth of his cum against my thighs, and I press them together, remembering what he said. He looks down at me as he pulls away, his hand stroking my folds once as he rolls to one side.

“Don’t lose a drop, volchitsa ,” he murmurs. “I want you still full of my cum at breakfast tomorrow.”

He starts to stand, and my heart stutters in my chest with alarm. “Are you not staying?” I ask, my voice weaker than I would have liked, a hoarse rasp in the back of my throat.

Konstantin glances back toward me as he slides off the bed, reaching for his clothes. “No,” he says simply, and then he starts to walk toward the door that divides our rooms, still breathtakingly nude, his clothes in one hand.

My mind screams at me to do something. To grab the knife and throw it, disabling him long enough for me to finish the job. To grab my gun and shoot him before he can react. To finish this, while he’s here, naked, the most defenseless he’ll ever be.

I can’t move. I can’t do anything. I watch him go, my chest aching, my mind spinning, frozen in the middle of my bed with my body still throbbing with pleasure and my thighs still sticky with his cum.

He opens the door, walking through it, and closes it behind him, glancing back at me once as he goes.

And, as the door clicks shut behind him, a heavy realization settles over me.

For the first time since Kane gave me my first assignment… I’ve failed.