“My turn to make you fall apart,” I tell him.
I push him onto his back and straddle his hips, positioning myself over his length. When I sink onto him slowly, we both groan at the perfect sensation of him filling me.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he pants.
“So do you.”
I start moving with slow, rolling motions that make him grip my hips hard enough to bruise. The angle hits every nerve ending, and I can feel another orgasm building despite having just climaxed.
“Faster,” he demands.
“No. Slow. I want to feel every inch of you.”
I continue the torturous pace, watching his face transform with pleasure and frustration. When he tries to thrust up into me, I pin his hands above his head and lean down to bite his lower lip.
“My rules,” I whisper.
“You’re killing me.”
“Good.”
I increase the pace gradually, building both our pleasure with control. When I finally move faster and ride him with abandon, he sits up to capture one of my nipples in his mouth.
“Yes,” I gasp, threading my fingers through his hair. “Just like that.”
The new angle makes him hit the spot inside me that turns my vision white. I grind desperately against him, chasing the release that’s building like pressure behind a dam.
“Come with me,” I pant. “I want to feel you lose control.”
He responds by flipping us over and driving into me with powerful thrusts that make the headboard slam against the wall. The sudden change in position and pace pushes me right to the edge.
“Now,” he growls. “Come for me now.”
My second orgasm hits like a tidal wave, and I scream his name as my body convulses around him. The pulsating of my inner muscles triggers his release, and he spills inside me with a grunt.
We collapse together afterward, panting and slick with sweat. He pulls me against his chest, and I melt into his embrace despite everything I know about the lies between us.
“What was that all about?” he asks between ragged breaths.
I suck in a shaky inhale and reply, “I needed to feel something real.”
“And was it?” he asks, watching me. “Real?”
I lift my head to look at him, noting the hope in his green eyes. For a moment, he looks younger, less dangerous, like someone I might have loved under different circumstances.
“The realest thing in my life right now.”
It’s the truth, which makes it more devastating than any lie he’s told me. Regardless of how this started, the manipulation, and the deception, what I feel for this man has become genuine.
What I don’t tell him is that he matters to me, despite everything. That I’m falling in love with my captor while planning my escape. That every moment of intimacy will make the eventual betrayal more painful for both of us.
Eventually, one of us will have to choose between love and survival.
And I’m not sure either of us will make the right choice.
28
Dmitri
