He likes seeing me on my knees like this. I see the sudden swell of his cock, hardening as he looks down at me, and I know he hates himself for it.
But we don’t have any other choice.
His hands drop to his belt, undoing it as he drags his zipper down, slowly, reluctantly, as much a prisoner of his own lusts as we are of these men. When he reaches in, palming his cock free, I can see that he’s half-hard, his cock rapidly thickening as he looks down at me kneeling in front of him.
“Sienna—” He repeats my name again, a plea, full of guilt and need and regret. “Milaya devochka?—”
I meet his eyes, holding them as I lean in, and I wrap my lips around the tip of his swelling cock.
Ifeelhis body react, feel the ripple of pleasure through his muscles as I slide my tongue underneath the hardening shaft, wrapping my lips tightly around him as I hold his gaze. A groan tears frombetween his clenched teeth as one hand goes to the back of my head. I slide further down, taking him all the way to the back of my throat, the way he taught me that he likes, I can feel him go stiff and hard inside of my mouth.
From behind us, Giovanni laughs, clapping his hands together. “Good. Good. You chose well, Damian. It looks like she knows how to suck a cock. So pretty, on her knees?—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Damian snarls, even as his hips twitch, pushing deeper into my mouth. He groans, his fingers curling around the back of my head, and I know he’s fighting how this makes him feel. Fighting how good it is, how much he wants to keep going. “Sienna,diyaka koshka?—”
I roll my tongue along the length of his cock, sucking harder as I keep eye contact with him. I want him turned on, I want him to be able to do this. It’s the only way we’re getting out. And I can feel it, see the way his chest heaves as he breathes harder, his fingers winding in my hair as his hips rock forward, taking as much as he can of my mouth. He’s losing himself to the pleasure, and it’s exactly where he needs to be.
He’ll hate himself later, and I’ll hate that this happened, but I won’t hate him, and he won’t hate me. We’ll go from there, however we can.
I bob my head up and down his length, once more, and then slide my mouth off of his glistening cock, looking up at him with as much desire as I can force into my gaze. “Fuck me, Damian,” I whisper. “I want it. Please?—”
His jaw tightens, his other hand curling into a fist at his side. “You don’t,” he murmurs. “Not really. You never did.”
“Not like this.” I bite my lip, pleading with him to understand. “But I did want it, Damian. I promise. I did.”I do. Just not here, not like this… but we’re out of choices.
He seems to make a decision. He reaches down, pulling me to my feet, and then his hands are on my hips, lifting me up to sit on the edge of the table as he steps between my legs, spreading them apart with his hands on my knees. His cock juts out in front of him, thickand long and hard, almost too big, and my heart beats rapidly with a different kind of fearful anticipation. I can feel that Iamwet from having his cock in my mouth, just a little despite the circumstances, but I’m not sure I could take that monster between his thighs even if I was soaked.
I’ve only been with one man, and his was small. Thin. Nothing like what juts out from between Damian’s legs, hard and throbbing, the tip swollen and flushed and dripping pre-cum, the vein along it pulsing with need.
I turned him on, and now I’m going to find out what comes next.
Damian swallows hard, his hands sliding my skirt up my thighs. “Mne zhal’,” he murmurs, almost under his breath, as his fingers skate over my skin along with the fabric, making me tremble. “I’m sorry, Sienna.”
“Don’t be,” I whisper. Under my back, the handcuffs bite into the flesh of my wrists, and I wish, with every part of me, that I could reach out and touch him. Somehow, the worst part of all of this is that Ican’t touch him. “It’s not your fault.”
“It is that I still want this.” His voice is pitched low, low enough that the guards and Giovanni can’t hear. “That I’m hard for you, even now. That I’ll come inside of you, very soon, because once I feel that tight, wet pussy around my cock, Sienna—once I feel mywife’spussy—I won’t be able to hold back. Even now. Even like this.”
A shudder ripples down my spine, and somehow, despite everything, I can feel myself getting wetter for him, arousal gathering between my thighs. Damian shifts between my legs, moving closer, and as my heart beats rabbit-fast behind my ribs, I hear Giovanni’s voice call out again from the other side of the room.
“Not yet, Kutnezsov. Show us what’s between your pretty wife’s thighs. We all want to see how wet she is for you.”’
A low sound, very much like a growl, comes from Damian’s throat. He turns, slowly, his hand dropping to wrap around his exposed length as he blocks me from view, his large, muscled body protecting the vulnerable, bare flesh between my legs. “You want proof that my marriage is real?” he rumbles, his every muscle woundtight as he stares down Giovanni Russo. “Here’s the first part of yourproof—if any man in this room gets so much as a glimpse of what’s between my wife’s thighs, I’ll slice out his eyeballs and feed them to him. That includes you, Russo.”
And then he turns back to me, his eyes dark with lust and rage, his entire body vibrating with it as he steps close enough that I feel the thick, swollen head of his cock brush against my folds.
“How long has it been?” he murmurs softly, and I know what he’s asking. I swallow hard, shifting the tiniest bit, trying to find a comfortable way to lay with my hands cuffed behind my back. It’s impossible.
“Almost four years,” I whisper back, and I see the realization flicker in his eyes, mingled with concern, warring with the rage pulsing through him. His jaw tightens as I feel him angle himself against me, that swollen tip parting my folds, pushing against my tight entrance.
“No wonder you could barely take my finger,” he growls, his voice a low rumble. “This will hurt, Sienna—I’ll try to be careful, but…”
“I’m fine,” I breathe. “I’m fine?—”
His hips tilt forward, his eyes locked on mine, full of anger and apology and need, as I feel his thick head push against me, as tight as if I were a virgin, the stretch a burning pain despite how wet I am. “Try to relax,” Damian breathes through gritted teeth, but I don’t knowhow. I couldn’t possibly relax in this situation, and even though my body craves him, I’m intently aware of the other bodies in the room, of the men’s eyes looking hungrily at me, hoping Damian fails, refuses, that it will be them thrusting inside of me like this instead…
I’m too tight. He’s too big. I hear his whispered apology as his hips snap forward, and I feel my body give, feel the tip of his cock thrust into me as I bite back a cry of pain, the first inch of his thick shaft stretching my body.
He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving, hands gripping the sides of the table as he looks down at me with a face gone taut with pleasure, agony, and regret written over every inch of it. “God,zhena?—”
