Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
She dares me.
She tests me.
I crush my mouth to hers, dragging my teeth over her bottom lip before moving down, biting at the sensitive skin of her throat. She gasps, thighs squeezing around my waist.
I press my knee between her legs, forcing them open.
Claiming her.
My hands leave bruises. Marks she’ll feel tomorrow. And she likes it.
She fucking loves to hurt.
And I fucking love to hurt her.
My hands find her wrists, pinning her down, keeping her exactly where I want her. And still, she twists under me, but it’s just another one of her games. She wants me to overtake her.
She wants me to make her submit.
So I do.
I fucking do.
I take my time breaking her apart—holding her hands down, licking her nipples, dragging my teeth over her skin. Savoring every gasp, every whimper, every desperate push against me.
She slaps at me when I let her go for even one second, and I let her come undone before I grab her hair, yank her head back, and bite her neck.
She groans, shaking, panting, her hands clawing at me.
I welcome it.
Just when she looks like she got her way, I roll onto my back and pull her on top of me.
"Ride me."
I slap her ass hard—until she squeals, until my handprint blooms on her naked skin.
She looks at me like she’s won.
And maybe she has.
I don’t just want her.
I need her.
"You keep fucking pushing me," I growl, my voice barely holding together. "Do you really wanna see what happens when I stop holding back?"
Her lips part, a slow smirk curving at the edges.
My god, she’s gorgeous.
My little ghost. Just a shimmer of a person in front of me—untouchable, elusive, a fucking witch.
"That’s the thing, Matvei," she whispers. Mocking. Inviting. "I don’t think you want to hold back, do you?"
My grip tightens in warning.
But her gaze holds mine.
My mouth crashes against hers.
This is war.
Brutal. Claiming.
She’s never been the kind of woman to yield—so she bites back.
Her nails rake down my arm, leaving angry, red welts in their wake.
I flip her back over on the bed, my body caging hers. She knees me and gets seconds of leverage before I push her down again, my hand wrapping around her throat.
The mattress tips beneath us.
She looks alive.
Her eyes alight, her grin wicked.
"You like this," I murmur. "Maybe I should punish you."
Her eyes burn into mine, my control hanging by a thread.
"Be careful what you fucking tempt me with, you little witch."
She’s casting a spell on me.
My hands on her are rough, unyielding. She wants to wear these bruises like a brand—like my brand.
And I want to mark her.
Every movement is like a battle—nails dragging, teeth clashing, grips tightening, bodies colliding in a war of pleasure and pain. Violence. Need.
I grab my cock. "Play with your fucking nipples," I order.
She pauses, eyes wide, breath hitched.
Her hips arch while I fist my cock, pumping, eyes locked on her belly, her fucking gorgeous body that will bear my children and tether her to me irrevocably. I might be obsessed.
I’m not sorry.
"Get on your fucking knees. Head down. Ass up."
She scrambles to obey.
I reward her with a hard, punishing slap to her ass. My handprint blooms, so pretty on her skin, and I can’t help but lean down and kiss it. She rocks on all fours.
I thrust into her in one brutal move.
Claiming.
She arches her back, her fingers digging into the bed.
"Matvei." She groans as I slam into her, her body welcoming me.
I thrust into her, again and again, until she moans and arches into me.
My body is heavy above her, and my breathing is ragged.
I continue thrusting, hips slamming against her ass.
I spank her hard, the satisfying crack of my palm against her ass. Once. Twice.
It doesn’t bring the relief I crave.
I spank her again, just to hear her scream.
I fist her hair and yank her head back as I move, my grip tightening.
She moans, right on the cusp of relief, and I feel the first spasm of pleasure rip through her.
I come.
I fucking come.
Spilling into her.
Groaning against her skin.
Kissing the bite marks I left on her neck and shoulders as she screams her own pleasure.
Chapter 15
ANISSA
His body is heavy against mine, his breath still rough against my neck. I should feel trapped. Instead, I feel… something way more dangerous.
Understood.
Complete.
And it scares the fuck out of me.
When he lifts his head, his eyes dark and unreadable, he stares down at me. “This doesn’t change anything.”
I grin at him and roll over, running my fingers along the lines of welts and scratches down his back and arms. “Oh, honey.” I wink at him to distract him. I don’t want to let him know how raw and vulnerable I feel right now. “You keep telling yourself that.”
I wince when he looks down at the bruises he's left on me. Fingerprints on my arms, scratches on my inner thighs. Bite marks and welts. Where others may look down and feel abused, this is mine. I own it.