Page 57 of Violent Possession

“Yes,” he whispers. “I want to see your face when you come undone for me.”

The dirty order, the possession in his voice... fuck, itignitesme.

My eyes are fixed on his as he speeds up the rhythm. Faster, deeper. Every muscle in my body burns.

“Look closely, boss... look at what you’re doing to me...”

His composure finally cracks. The hand on my neck squeezes in a spasm. His hips now collide with mine, meeting each thrust with force, and the shock completely disarms me.

“Yes! Yes, fuck, fuck me...”

The words dissolve into drawn-out sounds, each thrust stealing the air from my throat.

And then, I hear it.

A low sound, a growl, vibrates from deep in his chest—and I know I’ve broken the fucking facade. Alexei Malakov, all control and coldness, now moans inside me as if I were the addiction he tries to deny.

That sound. It’s my ruin. It’s the only permission I need.

The pressure on my cock becomes unbearable.

“Alex—“

My orgasm tears through me, a wave of white, blinding heat. Almost at the same instant, I feel his body contract inside me, the squeeze on my neck becoming painful before relaxing.

If I hadn’t just come, the sight of his suit—expensive and impeccable—now stained with my cum would have made me hard.

“I might’ve stained your rich-boy suit,” I say, still panting, with a smile I can’t help. I let my hands slide to his chest, feel the soft fabric and the firm muscles underneath.

Alexei follows my gaze. The hand that once squeezed my neck slides to the back of it, tracing a slow, meticulous caress, and I get goosebumps all over.

This is so different from what I’m used to. It’s not automatic. It’s dense. It makes me feel alive.

“It doesn’t matter.”

A more understanding answer than I expected.

I take a deep breath, and for a moment I just stay there, in his lap, feeling the secure hand on my waist, trying to catch my breath. It’s been months—if not years—since I truly felt this, since I felt sex pulsating in every nerve.

My body slowly relaxes against his. I let out a low, shameless moan, “Fuck... you’re too good.”

He caresses my skin. My head slowly comes back to normal.

Alexei. A Malakov with his hands on me like this.

I pull away, awkwardly getting off his lap and sinking back into my own seat, the movement sticky and uncomfortable. I pull up my pants, not worrying about the buttons.

I need to breathe a little.

“Well,” I say, hoarsely, looking at the car ceiling so I don’t have to face him. “I guess you should skip the camera session for my shower tonight.” I give a crooked smile. “Cleaning up this mess is kind of a turn-off.”

I hear Alexei’s laugh. It’s a low sound, but it’s genuine. He runs his hand over his face, pushing his hair back.

“Got it.”

That smile breaks the tension in his face. The lines of command recede, and what remains is a worn smile, with disheveled hair. Beautiful as hell. It hits me in the stomach, warms my chest.

I have to stop looking.