UNLEASHED — His Tsaritsa
1.2k Views · Ongoing · Anna Maeve
"I don't train pets," she whispered, her hand hovering over the Glock at her hip. "I build monsters."
Nikolai Volkov didn't flinch. He stepped into her personal space, the heat of his body radiating through her clothes, his scent of expensive leather and violence filling her lungs. "Then show me," he growled, his hand sliding up her throat to tilt her head back, forcing her to look into his predatory eyes.
The tension snapped. He slammed her against the wall of the kennel, the sound of barking dogs fading into the background as his mouth crushed hers, hungry and demanding. Anika gasped, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as his knee drove between her legs, grinding against her wet heat through the tactical fabric.
"Good girl," he murmured against her lips, his voice dropping an octave as his fingers roughly undid her belt. He didn't just want to own her loyalty; he wanted to own her pleasure. She whimpered as his rough fingers slid inside her, claiming her right there in the dust and shadows, her slickness coating his hand as she arched into his relentless touch. He took a bullet for her. She stitched him up. Now, he was going to fuck the defiance right out of her.
"You're dangerous," she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders.
"So are you," he promised, before thrusting deep enough to touch her soul.
Nikolai Volkov didn't flinch. He stepped into her personal space, the heat of his body radiating through her clothes, his scent of expensive leather and violence filling her lungs. "Then show me," he growled, his hand sliding up her throat to tilt her head back, forcing her to look into his predatory eyes.
The tension snapped. He slammed her against the wall of the kennel, the sound of barking dogs fading into the background as his mouth crushed hers, hungry and demanding. Anika gasped, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as his knee drove between her legs, grinding against her wet heat through the tactical fabric.
"Good girl," he murmured against her lips, his voice dropping an octave as his fingers roughly undid her belt. He didn't just want to own her loyalty; he wanted to own her pleasure. She whimpered as his rough fingers slid inside her, claiming her right there in the dust and shadows, her slickness coating his hand as she arched into his relentless touch. He took a bullet for her. She stitched him up. Now, he was going to fuck the defiance right out of her.
"You're dangerous," she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders.
"So are you," he promised, before thrusting deep enough to touch her soul.