My little bird gasped and my dick stiffened.
Fuck. I wanted to not touch her. To make her burn for me, but now that I looked at her, struggling to breathe and batting her lashes at me, it was the other way around.
She opened her mouth.
Whatever she had been about to say was lost as I pushed her down on the bed and nudged her legs apart. I glanced down at her crotch. It turned out that rob wasn't a good idea. At least, not when she was not wearing panties and were very wet. There was a dark spot already spreading out.
"Ptichka," I said, shaking my head and letting go of her breasts. "You do realise how lewd you're looking right now, don't you?" I grabbed her thighs, pulling her closer with a firm grip, forcing her to look at me. "So needy, just waiting for me to take what's already mine." I leaned down and teased against her ear. "Beg for it, ptichka. Show me how much you want this."
"Wha-? No, Judas wait!"
I ignored her as I pulled her robe off of her. And then I had to stop at the lovely, lovely sight in front of me. The physical changes were just about complete. My little bird's cunt was glistening, completely smooth, and completely wet. My cock throbbed as I looked down it. Fuck, I needed to bury myself in those folds.
I crawled back up onto the bed, my shaft waggling underneath me. I looked down at my Ptichka, her eyes full of fright and arousal. God, I was going to love this.
I grabbed my dick in one hand, hissing at how good just my hand felt. Then I guided myself in, drawing closer and closer to her wet folds. My little bird didn't try to fight me or run away. She just lifted her head to stare over her fat breasts as I rested my dick against her lower lips.
"Beg." I asked, stroking the side of her face not getting enough of her sight.
"No…" she moaned, her arousal coating my cock as I pressed against her entrance.
"Come on, I'll show you the heaven." I pushed my hips forward.
My little bird was finally giving in, her body betraying that fierce look in her eyes. Even if she tried to mask it, her hips were shifting closer, begging for more. Defiance still flickered there, but it only fueled my need to break her down until there was nothing left but raw, carnal submission. And the lust-it was pouring off her in waves. I grinned, feeling the pulse of heat as I teased her entrance, my fingers trailing along her skin. She was wet, ready, and her moans were music to my ears.
I inched forward, pushing deeper, her walls clenching around me. God, she felt so damn good, her tightness making me groan, though I stifled it beneath the symphony of her lustful cries. There was no doubt she wanted this, even if her mind hadn't caught up with her body's desperate needs.
Her weak resistance was almost laughable now, her hands clinging to my arms as if that would somehow stop me from taking her-every inch, every trembling moan, every part of her. With every thrust, I watched the war of emotions on her face, lust swallowing up any remaining anger or regret. By the time I was fully inside her, those flickers of rebellion had vanished, and all that was left was pure, desperate need.
Her moans were like wicked symphonies I never knew I craved… soft, sinful, forbidden poetry whispered in the dead of night.
Fuck.
Where was this coming from? Judas Romanovski didn't use words like this. Didn't let himself feel like this. But for her? For her, I could write thousands-dark verses and the more I looked at her, the more it dragged me further into an obsession that bordered on madness.
She was my temptation, my ruin, wrapped in whispers. A lie. Yes, she was a lie. She had to be. Cause there was no way truth could be so tempting.
My teeth involuntarily grazed her soft skin, leaving marks, claiming territory. Her body laid pliantly and trembling, giving itself to me in ways that words couldn't. Yet, I needed words. Needed them to bind her, to burn her memory into my head, to make sure every breath of hers belonged to me.
A muse begging to be broken.
Her fingers clawing at me like she was falling into some abyss only I could keep her from.
And I? I'd let her fall, again and again.
She tried to struggle but her body betrayed her at every turn, her slick cunt pulsed around me, squeezing tight as if to claim me, as if every inch of her was surrendering to this madness. Her enchanting eyes fluttered shut and I frowned. I needed to look into them. Lips parted in silent lewd moan and I was a goner.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"We shouldn't… Judas, please! Listen… this is not.."
I cupped her jaw loving how she fluttered opened her eyes.
"Shouldn't be doing this?" I whispered with a cruel smile, watching her knuckles turn white as her fingers dug into the sheets, clutching at something to keep her grounded. "Yet here you are, sweetheart. Giving in. Your body knows what it craves, even if your pride refuses to admit it."
I tightened my grip on her hips, pulling her down to meet each brutal thrust, each stroke intended to unravel her, to strip her bare of anything but the raw, desperate need I'd pulled from the shadows of her heart. She whimpered, and that fucking shattered little sound, it made me hunger for more.
She was mine-a beautiful creature to be corrupted, ruined, until she was marked by me alone, bound to me with no escape.
"Ptichka," I nuzzled into her neck as she trembled, "they say love is a fire that burns you whole. But I'm not here to love you-I'm here to consume you, to scorch every inch of you until you're nothing but ashes of what you were. And trust me, I won't stop until every last part of you knows it."
In her eyes, I saw that flicker, that delicate, fragile line between pleasure and despair, and I was set on shattering it.
"Why?... What have I done to you?" she whimpered, her voice trembling as she looked up at me.
I froze. Something twisted inside me, something dark and unfamiliar. My heart faltered for a second, an unsettling ache tightening around it like a vice.
What was it?
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and it stirred something within me that I didn't want to acknowledge. Her tears shouldn't matter to me-they couldn't matter. She was nothing more than a means to an end, a conquest, a fleeting obsession. That's what I told myself. But the way her gaze, wounded and soft, cut through my fucking defences made me question everything I thought I was.
There was no way I was feeling anything, right?
Yet, without thinking, my hand lifted to her cheek, cradling it with a gentleness I didn't know I possessed. I could feel her warmth against my palm, feel the rapid beat of my own pulse echoing like a warning in my chest.
And I hated it. Hated how something so simple could shake me to my core, unraveling that iron resolve I'd spent years building.
"Stop looking at me like that," I muttered, my voice harsher than I intended. But I didn't pull away.
"Does it matter? How I look at you? You do not care, right?" Something snapped inside me, and strangely it was not my control, but a deep part of me, something closer to my heart.
Her lips parted in a soft and trembling whimper just inches from mine. A dangerous thrill coiled in my chest, feeding something dark, something I couldn't contain.
My thumb brushed her cheek, lower, grazing her lips. Her breath hitched.
I leaned closer, the warmth of her skin was intoxicating. I could feel her pulse under my fingertips, rapid and vulnerable, and it made me ache to ruin her. To break her until I was carved into her bones.
"Tell me to stop," I whispered, voice barely a growl. But she didn't. Her gaze held mine, wide and pleading, daring me to keep going. She wanted me to keep going, to tear her clothes, render her naked and bare, and fuck her. Against her will. To force her so that she could hate me more.
My fingers slipped lower, tracing her jaw, then her neck, feeling her body tremble beneath my touch. She had no idea what was churning inside me-rage, lust, something darker and twisted that even I couldn't name. I wanted to devour her, to strip her, and take her against every damn surface in this room until nothing of her was left unmarked by me. And yet, I felt…nothing. Nothing but this hollow ache and this strange urge.
She was the reason my sister was in danger. The reason for that bloody knife in my back. She'd planned it all with the Morozovs, thinking I wouldn't notice.
But I had.
I had my eyes on her. The phone I gifted her had a tracking and small mic installed. I anticipated the betrayal.
Still, I let her keep playing, kept letting her in and play me like a moron and letting her close, as though there was a part of me-some sick, pathetic, fractured piece-that wanted to believe she was doing this for freedom. As if betrayal was the only escape she could see.
I didn't care if she lied, if she schemed. I didn't care if her tears were real or not. All I knew was that I wanted her. Wanted her in a way that had nothing to do with love or forgiveness. No, it was darker than that. Cruel. Selfish.
I didn't know what it meant to feel guilt or remorse, and I sure as hell wasn't about to start now. But watching her tremble, feeling her pulse race under my touch, it…did something. It made the hollow feel a little fuller, made the silence inside me a little louder.
So, I slid my fingers down her throat, pressing just hard enough to remind her who she belonged to, who held the power. To make her moan, to make her cry, to make her remember nothing but the way I felt-like sin against her skin.
My lips found their way to her throat letting her feel each tortured second. Her hands reached up, fingers trembling as they pushed at my chest and that shit strike another chord.
"Tell me to stop, and I will," I murmured darkly letting my mouth graze her ear.
My hand slid lower and I cupped her wet sloppy little cunt. She was mine-mine to break, mine to claim, mine to ruin.
And God, I would.
I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to hear it, refusing to give her that power. I didn't want to hear what she thought, what she felt.
Didn't want her to ruin this moment with words that would shatter the illusion I'd built. So I clamped my mouth down on her throat again, biting harder, drinking in the sounds she made-the gasps, the cries, the quiet, broken whimpers that fed the beast inside me.
"Judas…" Something clawed my chest. Desperation? And I refused to hear her. She had no right to reject me. No woman ever had. And my little bird would never. I clung tightly to her. Biting hard on her flesh marking her from within and taking whatever I could.
"No, please, I… I can't… stop!"
I stilled. My hold on her loosened for a second. And I stayed like that.
Her words hit me like a blade to the chest, twisting, cutting deeper than I'd ever thought possible.
No. Please… Stop.
My grip loosened and fingers went slack as I froze. My mind snarled, rejecting it, refusing to accept that she would dare say those words to me. She was mine. My little bird. My beautiful, fragile thing to cage, to keep, to consume.
I stayed like that, unmoving, fighting the fury clawing up my spine. Fury… and something else. Something uglier. Something that gnawed and burned, leaving nothing but fucking ashes. Her words had torn into me, mocking the control I thought I had over her. Over myself.
I forced my eyes open, forced myself to look at her, to meet those tear-filled eyes that made something in me recoiled again and tightened at once. She was still trembling, her gaze pleading, desperate, and it only fed the rage, stoked the dark hunger festering inside.
But I couldn't move. Couldn't pull her closer. Couldn't push her away. It was as though she had stripped me of every defences, every shred of power, leaving me bare and raw and… human.
The realization made my stomach twist in disgust, yet I couldn't let go. The cruel, hungry part of me wanted to consume her entirely, but there was a strange, foreign part that ached, unwilling to push her any further.
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to mark her, to take back the control she'd stolen with one simple word. But all I could do was stare, trapped in that silent, suffocating space between anger and… something else.
Damn her.