83● “Fuck, Foxy..."

83● “Fuck, Foxy..."
HARPER PETROVSKY

His thrust goes all the way through me, and another moan escapes mid-kiss—broken, impossible to hold back as I feel him driving deeper, pushing me to the edge with his cock.
My legs wrap around him on reflex. His hands grip me tight—one sliding up my back, the other keeping me exactly where he wants me as his movements don’t stop. The sound he lets out against my mouth is low, almost a growl, and my whole body reacts when he pauses, making me let out a moan of protest.
“Fuck, Foxy..." he growls through clenched teeth, his forehead resting against mine. “I’m not going to last long if you look at me like that again.”
I smile, breathless, looping my arms around his neck. I use his body to push myself up just enough before lowering slowly, feeling his cock press into my pussy, tightening on purpose—just to tease.
The sound Viktor makes isn’t restrained. It’s short, hoarse, ripped out of him when I clench again. His hand tightens on my thigh, his whole body reacting as he loses what little control he had left.
“Fuck, Harper…” he growls low, his mouth trailing down to my neck, teeth grazing my skin as he fucks me harder. “You don’t make this easy.”
And I really don’t want to make it easy—I want everything he can give me, even if it means letting him hurt me somehow—but the more I get of him, the more I crave. The way my body reacts to his strong, rhythmic thrusts says everything for me. I tighten my legs around him, move with him, tilt my head back, biting my lower lip in a futile attempt to stifle the moans slipping out.
The sound of the fireplace fades into a distant hum as my whole body responds to his. Every movement sends something spreading inside me, climbing up my spine, tightening my chest, making my breath too short to fake any sense of control.
Viktor changes everything with a single move.
The hand that was on my back slides down to my thigh and lifts me again—firm, without warning. My back hits the wall, my body held up by his strength alone, and the jolt of the new position knocks the air from my lungs. He grits his teeth, jaw tense and too close to my face, and I feel the resolve in the way he holds me—it’s not gentle, it’s necessary.
The rhythm shifts. Harder. Deeper. The impact echoes through me, and my breath comes in short gasps; I don’t bother trying to control. If this hurts, the thought of stopping doesn’t even cross my mind. Not now. Not when everything in me is reacting like this, begging for more without saying a single word.
I don’t think about pain.
I think about intensity.
At this point, there’s no way to separate one from the other. The pleasure is tangled with tension, with that dangerous feeling of going too far—and wanting more because of it. My hands grip wherever they can, my body moving with his, learning the new rhythm in the middle of the chaos.
I dig my nails into his shoulder, eyes shut, feeling everything all at once. The heat, the force of his cock pressing so deep inside my pussy, makes my thighs tremble—makes it feel like I’m going to explode as the sensation takes over my mind.
I can tell he’s close—the way his breathing changes, shorter, heavier—the way his cock pulses inside me. My legs shake, my whole body reacts, and my head starts to slip as the feeling builds, taking over everything.
I want more. Not gently—all the way. I want everything he’s still holding back, want to feel until there’s no room left to think. Control slips from both our hands, and the tension becomes something almost unbearable to hold.
I open my eyes for just a second, the world spinning around the crushing closeness between us, and let my body speak in place of reason.
Viktor gives me a wicked smile, dark and laced with something so sinful it seems to dim the blue in his eyes.
Before I can react, he pulls away. The contact vanishes in an instant, his body letting go of mine without softness, and the absence hits just as hard as his presence did. My legs falter for a second as he turns me, hands firm and sure, guiding me into a new position against the wall.
The sudden change knocks the air from my lungs. The heat from the fireplace now hits my skin differently, and I feel his hands repositioning me, adjusting my body like he’s deciding exactly how he wants to see me. There’s no rush—just a certain care—but every touch reignites a singular kind of desire in me.
He comes closer again—closer than before—his warm breath brushing against the back of my neck. One hand grips my hair tightly; the other runs down my body in a possessive motion, like he’s reminding me I’m still here—whole, vulnerable, waiting.
“Don’t come yet, Foxy. I want you screaming my name,” he murmurs low, far too close to my ear.
My body responds before thought can catch up. My hips lift on instinct, seeking, brushing, and the slightest contact sends a hot current up my spine. It’s not a calculated move—it’s pure need. I feel his presence behind me like a constant, overwhelming pressure, and it’s enough to steal my breath.
A broken, honest sound slips from my throat. My hands search for support on the wall, fingers splaying against the warm surface as my body tries to match a rhythm that hasn’t even started yet. Every second like this stretches too far, like I’m being kept right at the edge—where everything threatens to spill over.
I tilt my head to the side, exposing my neck without thinking, and let my hips move again—insistent, pleading without saying a word. His name pulses in my mind, on my tongue, caught behind my teeth.
And in the way he closes the distance again, reclaiming the space, I know—he doesn’t just want my body now.
Viktor grips my sides, sliding one hand down to my waist, then to each cheek of my ass, pausing there—squeezing—before drawing his hand back and landing a sharp slap that makes me gasp out a moan. The air leaves me, my legs falter, and everything in me becomes more sensitive all at once. The surprise, the heat, the sheer intensity of it all blend, and I feel my head spin as my body reacts with more urgency than I expected.
“That’s it, Foxy…” his voice is low, satisfied, laced with possession. “That sound.”
A short, dangerous pause.
“That’s exactly how I wanted you.”
I feel his smile before I hear the rest—his mouth far too close to my ear, breath warm and claiming.
“Since that day in your room,” he goes on, in no hurry at all. “When you made a point of teasing me… like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.”
My body answers again—uncontrollably—giving away everything my mind tries to hide. And in the way he holds me there—firm, sure—I know: Viktor isn’t just seducing me. He’s trying to take up more space than his brother ever did.
And maybe… he already has.