Home > The Professional (The Game Maker #1)(51)

The Professional (The Game Maker #1)(51)
Author: Kresley Cole

That he was about to conquer.

And when I surrendered utterly, he consumed me like he’d been suffocating and I was the sweetest air.

Chapter 28

Sevastyan kissed me until I was dazed, boneless against his hardened body. I clung to him when he yanked my knee to his hip, clamping it there.

His c**k pressed against my belly like a pulsating brand, and I grew wet for it, readying.

He used his free hand to grip one of my br**sts, leaning down to lick its stiffened tip. I whimpered when he suckled it between his lips, still working that clever tongue, forcing more tension to coil low in my belly. He tended my other nipple in turn, tonguing, sucking, leaving both achy peaks straining for more.

Then his hand trailed down to cup me. He slipped his middle finger inside my spread lips, making me moan, “Yes, yes . . .”

When he felt how slick I was, a defeated sound broke from his chest and a second finger joined the first to open me.

Then he withdrew those fingers to his mouth, his lids sliding closed as he sucked clean my cream. Another dip, another suck. As if he was drinking me one drop at a time.

It was the worst torture to feel his strong fingers filling me, then emptiness. “Inside me, Sevastyan, please . . .”

He delved them deeper. “This is what you need.” He pumped them into my core until I was clawing at his shoulders.

I felt light-headed, taken over by a kind of delirium. I needed him to lose control—because I was about to. My hands traveled down his wet body, my fingertips lovingly trailing over his sigh-worthy pecs.

On the way down, I brushed my thumb across one of his flat ni**les, noting his sharp inhalation. As I sifted my nails through the crisp hair of his goody trail, his hand tightened on my pinned knee.

Once I reached the heavy weight of his cock, he rasped, “Use it.”

I rocked my hips up as I pulled his shaft to me. When the head made contact with my pu**y, he bit out a curse, his length jerking in my hand. Panting, I ran the crown up and down between my swollen, flaring lips.

“So slick,” he growled. “So ready for me.”

As I petted my clit with the bulbous tip, his towering body shuddered with need. “Enough teasing. Wanted this too long.”

He covered my hand with his own, fitting the crown against my entrance, pressing forward just a fraction.

As soon as I knew without any doubt that I was about to lose my virginity, worries crept in. He was far larger than anything that had ever gone into my body. This is going to hurt.

He pulled our hands away, then began easing deeper, wedging the broad head inside. My gasp was cut off by his lips, hungry and insistent as he sank his c**k farther. Each inch forced me to stretch more and more; where would it end?

Just as I felt a tendril of panic, he drew back. His smoldering eyes scanned my face, gauging my every reaction.

Though the hot water had long since run out, I began to sweat. The stretch burned—too big, too big—so I raised myself up on my toes to buy some time.

He shook his head slowly. “Take it.” His free hand seized my hip to hold me steady.

I inhaled for courage. Once I’d relaxed a degree, he murmured, “My good girl,” then continued his inexorable possession of my body.

I felt pain—no surprise, considering his size—but I could bear it. When I’d accepted as much of his shaft as possible, when he was seated deeply inside me, he went still again. Though I sensed in him a ravenous lust—the urge to thrust must be lashing him—he somehow harnessed his aggression, battling his most primal drives.

Even as his neck corded with strain and his muscles shook.

Even as I could feel his c**k throb inside me with every beat of his heart.

Voice a harsh grate, he said simply: “Moya.” Mine.

At that moment I was completely his. I was joined with him, impaled by him, and there was no escape. Like I danced along the edge of a volcano about to blow—or gazed up at a rupturing dam.

“Moya.” He drew his hips back, then eased them forward. The pain faded, and in its place came a hint of something so incredible—

He did it again.

My lids went heavy as wonder suffused me. Rapture. Fullness. Connection. With his next measured thrust, I breathed, “Oh, my God.”

“You like that, pet.”

Adore. “I never knew.” My hands relaxed their death grip on his shoulders and began sweeping caresses over his sculpted back.

“My woman’s getting so wet.” Another roll of his hips had me sinking my nails into the rock-hard contours of his ass.

When I began to move with him, he bit out, “You want more?”

“Yes, God, yes!”

He lifted me with an arm looped around my back. “Hold on to me. Legs around my waist.”

When I locked them there, possessive hands cupped my ass, forcing me to slip back down his slicked cock. His shaft hit me at a new angle, and my eyes went wide. The pinch was fleeting; the pleasure mounted.

“Surrender, Natalya.”

I gave a cry, and did. Tonight I was his without reservation.

His golden eyes held me rapt as he surged against me, into me, c**k thickening even more. When my ni**les raked over his muscular chest, I tightened my arms around him, unable to get close enough.

He was inside me; I wanted to be enveloped by him.

His wicked, tattooed body was working mine, controlling my pleasure, heightening it in every way. The marble on the undamaged wall was smooth against my back. I slid up and down against it, slid up and down his throbbing length.

I was already racing toward my orgasm when his words ghosted over my ear: “You’re giving me such a hot, wet clutch . . . about to steal my cum from me before I’m ready.”

He was as close as I was? Even in this position, I began to meet his thrusts, writhing on his cock, grinding my swollen clitoris against him.

He gnashed his teeth. “Stop, milaya. Or I’ll come.”

I was too far gone to stop; surely we both were. I squeezed my legs around his waist so I could undulate faster, harder. Water collected at the tight seal where our bodies met, my feverish movements sending it sloshing.

He splayed his fingers over my ass, grating, “Said . . . to stop.” He dug into my curves to hold me in place, but his punishing grip just turned me on more.

Mindless, I panted, “Oh, God, oh, God!”

“Then moan for me, pet. Never get enough of that sound.”

I did, until screams replaced my moans as I hurtled ever closer. “Sevastyan!”

He bit out, “I want to feel how hard my woman comes. Wring my seed from me.”

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