“I don’t want you to stop,” I purr, twisting my hand around him. “I want you to f**k me—hard. If you actually want to punish me, you’ll have to walk away.”
He swallows, debating it. Debating leaving me on the bed, throbbing and desperate. It really would be a cruel and unusual torture.
The problem is, it would torment him, too.
There are no winners in this little game. Mikhail seems to realize that at the same moment I do.
We surge towards each other, lips crashing together so hard it hurts. I scrape my nails through his hair and tug at the strands, angling his head to give me better access.
He rips his hair out of my grip and pins my arm to my side. With his other hand, he presses his c**k to my p***y. He drives into me in one stroke, but I’m more than ready for him this time. I take
