Chapter 56 FIFTY-SIX

Chapter 56 FIFTY-SIX
J A D E

His lips met mine, and the world fell away. It was a soft, gentle kiss, a question, not a demand. I responded, my lips parting under his, my body arching toward him.

The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more passionate. His hands tangled in my hair, his body pressing against mine.

He lifted me with an effortless strength, my legs wrapping around his waist. He placed me in his lap, our bodies flush against each other, and I could feel him, hard and ready for me.

I should have stopped. I should have remembered my parents, their faces frozen in terror. But I couldn't. The memory was there, a dull ache in the back of my mind, but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming need to be close to him, to feel him inside me.

He broke the kiss, and looked at me. "Jade," he said, his voice a low growl. "Are you sure about this?"

I nodded, my hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt. I needed to feel his skin, to have him inside me. There was no more room for thought, for hesitation. The decision was made, and there was no going back. My body had made its choice, and my mind, a traitorous accomplice, had surrendered.

I pulled his shirt over his head, my fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest, the muscles in his shoulders. He was perfect, a living sculpture carved from marble and sinew.

He returned the favor, his hands sliding under my shirt, his touch igniting a fire in my veins. I arched my back, a soft moan escaping my lips as his thumb brushed against my nipple, sending a jolt of pure pleasure straight to my core.

"You like that, don't you?" he whispered, a smug smile playing on his lips.

I answered by crushing my lips against his, my tongue diving into his mouth, claiming him as mine. He groaned, his hands tightening on my hips, pulling me closer, grinding against me. The friction was delicious, a sweet torment. I could feel the damp heat of my own arousal soaking through my jeans.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing a fiery path down my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin. I threw my head back, giving him better access, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

"You taste so good," he murmured, his tongue swirling against my pulse point. "Like honey and sin."

I shuddered. I was on fire, burning from the inside out.

He lifted me again, this time laying me down on the couch. He hovered over me, his eyes dark with desire. He looked at me like I was the only woman in the world, the only thing that mattered.

He slowly unbuckled my short, still keeping eye contact with me. He hooked a finger through one belt loop and tugged. The denim scraped against my skin as he worked them down my legs, taking my panties with them. The cool air hit my exposed skin, and I shivered.

He didn't waste any more time. He settled between my legs, his shoulders pushing my thighs wider apart. And then, without warning, he lowered his head, and his tongue was on me.

I cried out, my back arching off the couch. The feeling was exquisite, a delicious torment that sent waves of pleasure crashing over me. He was a master, a god of pleasure, and I was his willing devotee. He explored me with a thoroughness that left me breathless, his tongue teasing, tasting, tormenting. I was writhing beneath him, my hands tangled in his hair, holding him to me.

He slid a finger inside me, then another, curling them in a way that made me see stars. He was hitting a spot deep inside me, a place no one had ever touched before.

"Markov," I gasped, my voice a hoarse cry. "Oh, god."

He chuckled, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through me. "Not quite," he said, his voice a low, rumbling purr. "But I'll take the compliment."

He increased the pressure, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony. I was so close, teetering on the edge of a precipice, ready to plunge into the abyss. When he felt that I was close, he would slow down his pace, bringing me back down before taking me back up again. He repeated this agonizingly wonderful routine several times, each one edging me closer to the cliff, only to pull back at the last second. I was a quivering, begging mess, my pride completely shattered.

"Please, Markov," I begged. "Please. Let me come."

He raised his head, a triumphant smirk on his face. "You need to show me that you deserve it. You need to beg me properly."

I hated him in that moment, but I needed him more. I was completely at his mercy, and we both knew it.

"Please, Markov," I begged, my voice breaking. "Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need to come."

"You could do better, baby." He said, a cruel smile on his face as he slowly started to pump his fingers in and out of me. I arched my back, my hips bucking against his hand.

"Please, Markov," I cried out. "I’ll… I’ll do anything."

He seemed to like that answer. "I like the sound of that." he murmured, and then he lowered his head again, his tongue lashing against my clit. This was the final push that I needed. The pressure built and built, a white hot inferno threatening to consume me whole. And then, I shattered.

I screamed his name, my body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. It was a mind blowing, earth shattering orgasm that left me breathless and boneless.

He stayed with me, his tongue and fingers gently milking the last tremors from my body. When I finally came back down to earth, he was looming over me, a self satisfied smirk on his face. He had this glow about him. The kind of glow that came from seeing the woman you were in love with completely undone. The glow of pride. He was proud of the pleasure he had given me, and he should be.

I was still panting, trying to catch my breath, my body humming with residual pleasure. He was staring down at me, his eyes dark with a hunger that hadn't been sated. He was still hard, a thick, imposing ridge pressing against my thigh.

"You're so beautiful when you come," he growled out. "I could watch you all day."

I blushed, my cheeks flushing with heat. I was still trying to process what had just happened, the intensity of it all. I had never felt anything like it, never been so completely and utterly lost in the moment.
He lowered his head, his lips claiming mine in a deep, possessive kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue, a musky, primal flavor that was both intoxicating and empowering.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. I needed him inside me, needed to feel him filling me, stretching me, completing me.

He seemed to read my mind, because he positioned himself at my entrance, the head of his cock nudging against my slick folds.

"Are you ready for me, Jade?" he asked, his voice a low commanding growl.

I nodded, my hands gripping his shoulders. "Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He entered me in one slow, deliberate stroke, and I cried out, a mix of pleasure and pain. He was big, bigger than I remembered, and the feeling of him stretching me, filling me, was almost too much to bear.

He stilled, giving me a moment to adjust, his forehead resting against mine. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tight with restraint.

I nodded, my breath coming in ragged pants. "Yes," I managed to say. "Don't stop."

He needed no further encouragement. He started to move, his strokes slow and deep, each one hitting a spot deep inside me that made me see stars. All I could think about was him, his touch, his taste, his scent.

He increased the pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. I met him thrust for thrust, my body arching against his, my nails digging into his back.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "I want to see how much you’re enjoying my cock in your tight cunt."
I opened my eyes, my gaze locking with his. Our bodies were slick with sweat, and the sound of skin against skin echoed in the room.

"You feel so good," he drawled out with a hiss. "So tight. So wet."

I couldn't form words, my mind was a jumble of sensations. I could only moan in response, my body ignited in pleasure.
He reached between us, his thumb finding my clit, rubbing tight, circles. The added stimulation was almost too much, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

"I want to feel you come around me," he said, his voice a low growl. "I want to feel you squeeze my cock. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you squeeze my cock with your tight cunt?"

His words, so raw and dirty, were my undoing. I let go, and the world around me fell away. I was experiencing a blinding ecstasy. He followed soon after, his body tensing, a deep groan escaping his lips as he buried his face in my neck.

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies intertwined, the smell of sex and sweat heavy in the air.

I was still catching my breath, trying to process what had just happened, when he lifted his head, his gaze locking with mine.

"I love you," he said, his voice rough.

I instantly looked away, feeling like a cold bucket of water had been dumped on me. What had I done? Had I really just had sex with the man who had murdered my parents? Who had lied to me, manipulated me, used me?

Again? 

I couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't stand the guilt that was threatening to drown me. He seemed to sense the change in me, because he pulled back, his face a mask of concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.

I managed a fake smile. "Uhm nothing, I need to go wash up," I said, already getting off him.

"Okay, let me know if you need anything," he said, looking at me with an expression I couldn't read.

I turned around, and walked towards the bathroom. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, my chest tight.

What was I doing? How had I let this happen again?

I had let him use my body, allowed him to make me feel things I had no right feeling.

The guilt was suffocating, a dark, heavy feeling that threatened to drag me under.
I couldn't do this. I couldn't keep letting him get close, couldn't keep letting him touch me, kiss me, fuck me.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

But it was all too easy.