“Any man would kill for you.”

My face was flushed, eyes glinting with passion. Behind me, he seemed even more massive and unyielding, while I appeared pale, small, and soft. The dusky shade of his c**k was stark against the pink flesh receiving it so eagerly.

As he hefted my br**sts, I gazed at his ragged, tattooed hands against my milk-white skin, at that knot of cloth around his brawny arm. He looked like a dark god, a warrior who’d just returned from battle.

Because he was.

He lifted me just enough to reveal his veined shaft glistening from my orgasm and his se**n. When a pearly bead trailed down from my opening, he said, “You see my cum inside you?”

“God, I see it.” The hot, rich essence of him. The evidence of what we’d done. I moaned, beginning to tremble. In the mirror, I watched my br**sts bobbing with my shallowed breaths.

Against the hollow of my neck, he rasped, “I’ve never come in another.”

I was grasping at threads of this conversation. Never come? Oh, because he’d worn protection.

“Did you feel it inside you?”

I nodded. “It felt so hot, scalding. It made me need to come again.”

He turned my face so our eyes could meet in the mirror, so I could see how he regarded me, my body.

Like I was already a caught thing. His gaze was . . . sinister. “In a way, I’ve marked you.”

At the idea, I shivered against him. I’d expected a bruising, frantic claiming in the shower, and even now. This was the man who’d whipped my br**sts, who’d slapped my ass so hard I’d felt it the next day. Merely recalling how he’d plied me with pain made wetness flood me.

Yet this relentless assault on all my senses was just as much a demonstration of his dominance. He had control over himself, over me. “This is where you belong.”

“Belong?” I whispered. Such a loaded word.

“You belong against me”—he grazed his teeth down my neck—“around me. Connected to me.”

Connection. “Yes, yes.”

His fingers made a cage over my throat. “You belong to me.” His other hand dipped down to stroke my slickened clit, eliciting a gasp from me.

I spread my legs even wider, knowing he was about to make me mindless again.

“I told you that if I was your first lover, I’d be your last,” he said, his fingers making slow, slippery circles. “I told you that I’d kill any man who touched what was mine. Do you understand me?”

Though I could scarcely pull my thoughts together, reluctance stole through me. I understood he wanted to possess me. Darkly, brutally. But for how long? How totally?

Would there be anything left of me when a man like this had had his fill?

When I hesitated to answer him, he abruptly pulled out.

I was left cold, bereft. “What? Why?” Aching emptiness suffused me.

He positioned me back on his lap, his engorged shaft in front of my mons. It stood like an idol to be worshipped, making my mouth water and my hips rock. I couldn’t keep myself from grinding against the damp base.

“Grasp it.”

I did.

“Stroke it. Learn it. My c**k is the only one you’ll ever need—or know.”

Enthralled, I put both hands on him, pulling, masturbating him in front of the mirror. “Oh, God, Sevastyan . . .”

“If you want it back, then beg me for it.”

As I squeezed it in my fists, words fell from my lips: “Please give me your cock.”

“Why?”

Why? Honestly . . . “Because I feel like I’ll die without it.”

“Then tell me who owns your exquisite little body.”

Owns. Owns. Yet right now, he did—controlling it absolutely. He lifted me once more, poising me atop his cock, wedging just the head inside. I moaned, wriggling on him as he withheld what I so desperately craved. Fine! “You own it.”

“Who owns you?” he demanded, upping the ante. Once again, he was pushing me, forcing me to submit ever more completely.

But fighting him seemed . . . unthinkable. Like resisting the inevitable. So I murmured, “You own me.”

“Good.” His eyes gleamed with triumph. Satisfied that I’d surrendered, he dug his heels into the floor and thrust upward into my wetness.

“Sevastyan!” I cried, but he didn’t slow, seemed to have reached the limits of his iron control.

His hips surged, pistoning between my legs. In the mirror, I could watch his gaze locked on my quivering br**sts. I could witness his thick, shining c**k plowing into me, swallowed by my hungry pu**y. About to fill me with more of his se**n.

My toes curled. I whimpered, tremors taking me over. Building, coiling, building, coiling—

Release.

My back bowed; I screamed helplessly as my body seized.

He tugged my hair to bare my neck, nipping me hard, snarling against my skin, “Ty svodish’ menya s uma!” You madden me!

I felt his c**k jerking inside me, then heat . . . burst after burst as I moaned his name—in a voice dripping with submission.

After I’d collapsed back against him, limp with satisfaction, Sevastyan kept our bodies joined, taking the opportunity to soothe his bite with a tender kiss on my neck.

Soon he started hardening again. I was exhausted, but the feel of him growing within me once more turned me on so much that I was ready for another round.

Yet he lifted me from his shaft, moving me bodily to the top of the bed. “I don’t want to hurt you. I forget you were untried before this night.”