Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 44

A new idea flashes through my mind: spinning her around so I can push those breasts together and fuck my cock between them.

But as much as I want to erupt all over her cleavage, I have a goal tonight. I need her to let go. I need her to forget everything and everyone—except me.

“R-Ruslan,” she moans. “Fuck me… oh, God… just fuck me…”

I smirk. “Since you asked so nicely…”

Her eyes flare and she trails her tongue over her bottom lip. I don’t look away when I slide inside her to the hilt.

She is so fucking wet.

My balls are ready to burst, but I push back the desire and concentrate on her. I grab her hips and start thrusting into her, mesmerized by the way her tits bounce. Even when she starts bucking and sobbing my name in broken, desperate syllables, I don’t let up. I don’t slow down. I don’t go easy on her. I fuck her like a man possessed.

Arms flexing. Jaw clenching. Hips jerking. Sweat drips off my skin onto hers and with it, my own stress starts to melt away.

Her palms slam against the cool teak as she begs between cries. “Ruslan, fuck…! I can’t… I can’t take it anymore… please… yes, yes, YES!”

“Take it,” I snarl between thrusts. “Take it, baby.”

Her nails dig into my forearms and sharp stings of pain run up my arms as she applies pressure. It feels incredible. “That’s it, kiska,” I grunt. “Come for me… come on my cock… yeah, that’s it baby…”

Her back arches, her lashes flutter, and her pussy convulses around my dick. Little crystal beads of sweat form between her breasts. I lean down, still buried to the balls inside her, and lick them off. She tastes every bit as good as she smells.

Citrus and sweat. And something else… oaky, spicy vanilla. My scent.

I like that a little too much.

I’m still hard when I pull out of her. Her eyes are closed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I grab her legs again and hook them around my waist, using the leverage to carry her off the table. She instantly wraps herself around me, nestling her head on my shoulder, her body still trembling from her release.

Does that make me feel strong, powerful, really fucking entitled?

Absolutely.

Having her at my mercy makes me feel like the only real man who’s ever lived.

“Ruslan…” she whispers. Her voice is unsteady and so, it seems, are her legs. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“You want my help? Then you’re gonna have to earn it.”

I have just enough time to see her eyes flicker with alarm before I twist her around and press her up against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Goosebumps race across her smooth skin as she trembles. And when I rub a possessive hand over the curve of her ass, she stiffens. “Yyou’re gonna punish me again?”

I smile, adding a squeeze to the rub. “No, baby. You’ve been a good girl today, so you’ve earned a reward.”

She moans. “I don’t think I can take another orgasm.”

I shake my head and nip her shoulder. “Unfortunately, that’s not up to you.”

Her body arches so fucking beautifully when I push into her. The way she immediately pushes her hips back and her ass up, spreading her legs wide… I probably have ten thrusts left in me at most, but I grit my teeth and force myself to keep going. The need to come is buried under the need to make her finish first.

I slide a hand around her neck and pull her up against my chest. Wrapping my arms around her, I grab a handful of those breasts and rock into her, making every hard thrust count. I can feel the vibration travel up my body before it’s lost in hers. It’s addictive.

Emma has completely surrendered herself to me, her body moving only where I allow it. She’s just this side of limp in my arms, writhing only when I tease her nipples and slide a hand down her stomach to rub her clit in small circles.

I tongue the inside of her ear and she cranes her head back against my shoulder. “Fuuuck, Ruslan,” she moans desperately. “I-I can’t… I’m gonna…!”

And when she does, I explode inside her, reveling in the triumph of her body milking me into her.

When it’s finished, she melts back against me, her legs officially limp, her body turning to putty. I pick her up again and carry her to the sofa.

“God,” she sighs, rubbing her hands against the upholstery. “I can’t feel… anything…”

Good.

“I’ll get us some water.”

It’s amazing how satisfied I feel after my nights with Emma. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced before. The revolving door kept spinning and women came—literally—and went. But none of them ever made an impression. Not even while I was inside them.

I stop short when I approach the couch with two glasses of water in hand. Emma is sprawled out across the cushions, fast asleep.

I set the glasses down and watch her for a few moments.

I should wake her.

I will wake her.

But maybe… not right away.

I end up on the loveseat facing her, staring at the way her breasts tremble with every breath she takes. She looks so damn peaceful that even an hour later, I can’t bring myself to wake her. Instead, I carry her tenderly into my room and settle her on one side of the bed.

This bed has seen a lot of things, none of which involved sleep. That realization sends a little chill up my spine. But it’s still not enough to convince me to wake her.

Mainly because that chill isn’t exactly bad, per se.

I take the armchair by the window, but at no point do I actually appreciate the view of the city. I’m focused on the view of Emma in my bed.

I watch her for so long that my dilemma doesn’t become obvious until long after the moon has risen.

It’s not that I don’t want to wake her up.

I just don’t want her to leave.

The way she writhed on my cock; the way she screamed my name… I thought I’d done what I set out to do tonight. But watching her asleep in my bed, it hits me—

This victory may not be mine at all.