Page 53 of Twilight Sins
One roll of my hips against him and I moan. After days of denying what I want, letting myself have this feels decadent. I even pretended I didn’t see my own pajamas sitting perfectly clean in my drawer so I could wear Yakov’s shirt instead. Anything to be close to him in any way I could.
He grips my hip and bunches that same shirt up around my waist.
“Sorry for stealing your clothes,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “The only thing you need to apologize for is still having it on.”
With one tug, Yakov shreds through the shirt so it falls off of me in two wasted pieces. It was a really nice shirt. I planned to steal it and wear it for years and years to come. But I can’t even be sorry to see it go when he latches his mouth around my nipple.
Yakov laps at me with his tongue as he curves my spine with two huge hands, bending me towards him, taking what he wants like it’s that easy. Like I haven’t been sulking around his house for days trying to deny the truth that’s becoming harder and harder to ignore: I’m not afraid of whatever threat is waiting for me outside of Yakov’s mansion.
I’m afraid that I like Yakov Kulikov way more than he will ever like me.
His mouth is hot on my throat. “I don’t know what’s happening,” I croak.
Who cares? Shut up! Not all sex has to be, like, heartfelt and meaningful. For once in my overthinking life, I want to turn my brain off and just let this happen.
But every time he touches me, questions and doubts climb up my throat.
“I’ll show you.”
Goosebumps spread down my chest. “I asked if you were going to hurt me.” I swallow. It’s hard to think when we’re this close. “You didn’t say ‘no.’”
Someone always gets hurt. Not exactly words of comfort.
Yakov draws back and looks at me. His eyes burn their way down my body. There’s an intensity there I don’t understand. The line between hate and love is thin, and I can’t tell which side he falls on.
Slowly, he slides me off his lap and onto the couch. I’m pretty sure that’s the end of it, so I start to leave—until one massive hand pins me down to the furniture by my hips. Yakov sinks between my knees, though he’s so gigantic that he still meets my gaze at eye level.
“It was never that I didn’t like you.” He bites the inside of my thigh, pulling back to smirk at the red outline of his teeth on my skin. “It’s that I hate to break beautiful things.”
He forces my knees apart, not that it’s particularly hard at this point. His exhale tickles across the damp center of my panties.
I inhale sharply, but it doesn’t help much. The room is going fuzzy around the edges. I feel like I’m floating, even with Yakov pinning me down.
“Are you going to break me?” I whisper.
“If I do even half of what’s going through my head right now, I’ll fucking destroy you.” His jaw flexes and he looks up at me. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
I’m frozen, staring down at him like I’m watching a movie. This can’t be real. He can’t be real.
Yakov pulls my black panties to the side and strokes his thumb down my slit. “You’re so wet, solnyshka. That’s why you were waiting up, isn’t it? It’s because you wanted me to come back and claim you like this.”
Yes.
No.
Okay, fine. Maybe.
After he left dinner, I wanted to see him again. There was an ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away. I needed to talk to him. Then he showed up bloody and broken and I was terrified. What if he’d never come home? What if I never got the chance to… I’m not even sure what.
One thing’s for sure: I never could have dreamed I’d get to have this.
He slides his fingers deeper into me. His thumb brushes over my clit and I’m on fire. I hook my hand around his neck and my leg around his calf, clinging on for dear life. I grind into his hand like I can’t control myself because, well, I can’t.
I moan his name and a string of nonsense syllables. He thrusts into me faster and faster, matching the pace of my beating heart. My hips rise up off the couch and Yakov curls an arm around my waist. He holds me, driving me closer and closer to the edge.
“Look at me,” he demands.