“You want to play rough, beauty?” he growls, and it makes my core spasm.
“Can you take me?” I raise my eyebrow in challenge.
“Does the kitten have claws?” He taunts me, and I squeeze as I flip back off him, using his body as leverage. I land on my hands and flip up to standing.
“I’m not a kitten, and if you want to see claws, here you go,” I say in English as I pull out one of my knives from my back.
He continues to smile but lifts that pierced brow at me like it’s a game.
He rushes me, smacking my hand to the side as he lifts my body. I lean down and bite his earlobe next to his earring. He growls as my back slams into the bar. His mouth finding mine again. This time I let his tongue enter my mouth, and he uses it to explore and take from me. I moan and claw at him, pulling him into my body. He frees an arm and sweeps it out as we continue to fight for dominance of the kiss. I’m so turned on right now. He’s pushing me to my limits. Bottles and glass crash to the floor but I don’t look up. My back lands on a flat surface and he grabs my belt. He undoes it as he continues to work me into a frenzy with his tongue in my mouth. My belt releases, followed by the button and zipper on my jeans.
“Kotenok, I need some of your cream,” he growls as he calls me kitten and rips off my boots and pulls my jeans down my legs. He buries his face in my pussy, his teeth pulling on the thin material of my thong. “You’re fucking soaked.”
“Yes.” I moan and slip my T-shirt off. “Take off your shirt.”
He yanks his shirt off, sending buttons flying, and throws it to the floor. Tattoos line his body. I recognize a lot of them. But I can’t focus on that as he yanks my thong and rips it from my body. He spreads me out on the bar as he climbs up on it. He opens me up and looks at me before he dives in as if he’s starved. He licks, bites, sucks, and plunges his tongue into me. I cry out as I unhook the front clasp of my bra. My tits spill out and he looks up my body as he continues to feast on me.
“Pull them, kotenok.” He orders, and I pull on my nipples. The feeling of being overwhelmed consumes me and I’m about to come. He doesn’t stop or detour from his task, and I twist my nipples as I pull, sending myself over the cliff. I cry out as I come, and he continues to lap at my center, taking me over again. I start to close my eyes. Needing to hide before he sees too much in my gaze.
Like how much I not only needed this but want him.
“Glaza otkryty.” He demands my eyes to be open, and I look down my body to his deep-set brown eyes. They are flecked with gold as he stares back at me. “Kotenok, you taste amazing.” He keeps switching between Russian and English. He’s more comfortable speaking in Russian though. I don’t know why he keeps calling me kitten, but I’m beginning to like it. He rises over my body and pops the buttons on his fly. He rolls on a condom before he impales me on his large cock. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold on as my body arches, and I practically purr from his movements. He works in and out of my body. More bottles fall and glasses drop. The bar shakes as he slams into me over and over. I rub my hands down his chest, my nails scoring his tattooed skin. His pectoral muscles flex as his arms plant on the bar next to my head. He doesn’t relent as he works his hips harder. His pelvis slamming into mine. He leans his head down and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking it deep. I cry out and beg him for more. He grinds his hips into me, his pelvis hitting my clit, and I scream as I come in a blaze of colors and feelings I can’t hold back.
“Vitaly,” he yells, and I jump, unsure of what he’s saying. He drops more weight on my chest. His hips pumping in small pulses in my body. He’s still hard and working toward his orgasm. I start to panic because of the brutal sounding word. “Anatonia.” He says my name and I stop. He does know who I am. “My name is Vitaly,” he growls, and locks his jaw hard. “When you come on my cock again, you scream it loud, kotenok.” His English is overly enunciated, proof he’s not from here.
I nod at him. The words trapped in my throat.
He moves a hand to my knee, moving it as he pulls back. He lifts it over his shoulder and gently kisses my ankle. His cock pushes in deeper and my eyes roll back. I grip his shoulders, pulling him down and closer to me. Flexing my leg against both our bodies. He pulls the ponytail from my hair, letting it spread around me on the bar, his fingers working through it.
Finally, he takes my hands and lifts them over my head. He holds them down against the shiny surface. Trapping and exposing me in a way a man has never done before. Making me vulnerable to him and everything he does to me. I don’t fear him. Something inside me trusts him.
But I can’t let him see inside me yet. I look everywhere but at him. I focus on the cross around his neck. It swings back and forth between us with his movements. I can’t feel this. I keep the walls up to protect me.
Vitaly slows his movements too long, deep thrusts. He looks down into my eyes, and his feelings push through. I fully look at him. His eyes are open, not shielded. Eyes that take in everything that is me. I don’t submit to lovers, they submit to me, but he’s demanding my submission. He flexes his hips, hitting that spot inside me. My eyes flare wide and I can’t hold the walls up anymore. I release them. I let go and give him the control for this one moment.
He pulls out and slams into me when my body softens and my pussy flutters along his steel cock. The change causes the climb to happen so fast I’m panting and ready to explode. Ready to go over the edge.
The feelings new.
Raw.
Primal.
His body moves faster, snapping his hips into me, and I can’t hold it back. It hits me like the waves of the ocean slamming into the rocks. I cry out.
“Vitaly.” I scream his name as he comes deep inside me.
“Anatonia…” he growls every syllable of my name and stretches it out. The most beautiful sound that my heart clenches. He releases my leg and drops down over me. With his elbows close to my head, he cages me in under him. At five foot seven, I’m tall, but he’s well over six foot, maybe pushing six foot four. His massive chest presses against my breasts.
I close my eyes and when I open them again, I look up and he does the same. But then the look in his eyes switches; he closes off.
“Nyet. Nyet. Nyet.” He repeats “no” over and over. He comes off my body in a fluid motion and is standing on the floor. He turns his back to me, and I feel the wall descending between us.
He regrets what happened.
This is why men never come back to my loft. Why I fuck them and never submit. Why I control every part of it. This right here. The shattering of something inside me. My most enjoyable sexual experience is now tainted with his regret. I watch as his hands move, removing the condom from his body. He looks around the room and spots the extra bathroom. I watch his thick slabbed ass muscles flex as he moves across the room. His jeans are hanging low on his hips.
I roll and slip off the bar. My body wanting to break. My soul pierced from all the pain. I walk past him knowing he will be gone when I come back out. I enter my room and look around at everything. The loan platform king-size bed. The lack of personal touches. The utilitarian feel.
I’m that women.
I’m nothing.
I was called a suka all my life in Russia because I was a dog. A bitch. I was beneath their feet. I was born of two people that shouldn’t have been together. A real-life Romeo and Juliet. My mother was the Russian Bratva Printsessa. My father the capo bastone, the underboss. He was Capo Carlo’s underboss until he died in the attack my uncle set in motion when Natale was injured.