Page 80 of Daddy Brigadier

I’m trembling, my breath quick and shallow as I lean against his chest.

“Did I tell you we were done?” he says. His low voice goes straight to my core. He enters me, moving with slow, deep thrusts. My breath catches, overwhelmed by his perfect fullness.

I’m lost in sensation—the strain of his cock deep inside me, the pressing weight of his body on mine, the intoxicating sound of our bodies colliding with a raw intensity.

He growls like an animal. He’s relentless, fucking me with brutal precision. He’s about to shatter me, and I sense it with every nerve, every muscle in me—a primitive, beautiful awareness.

His fingers curl tightly in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my bared throat to his hungry sucking. “Who owns this fucking pussy?” he snarls, voice thick with sadistic pleasure.

“You do,” I scream, my voice cracking with shame and adrenaline.

He quickens his pace, and I can’t help but moan louder, my eyes tightly shut. A tremor begins to course through my legs.

“That’s it, Krasotka,” he groans, voice thick with hunger. “Come on my cock.”

He drives into me again, causing my knees to buckle. The world bursts into stars behind my eyes as the orgasm washes over me—intense, overwhelming, all-consuming. I moan shamelessly as he continues ramming into me with relentless force.

On the edge of his release, he forces me down onto my knees, his brutal grip tightening in my hair, twisting mercilessly until I can’t help but whimper.

He jerks his cock, sending his thick ropes of hot cum splattering across my face.

He looks down at me. “Look at you,” he hisses, his breath heavy and uneven. “You’re nothing but a little slut.”

I stay kneeling, heart racing, and lift my gaze to meet his.

He pulls himself away from me, tucking himself back into his pants, and he tosses a handkerchief at me. “You’re just a fucking toy to play with. That’s all you ever were.”

I climb off my knees, momentarily disoriented. Shame surrounds me like a suffocating blanket, crashing down upon me with the force of a brick wall in the stillness of the night.

As I turn away from him, my legs shake, and his cum sticks to my skin. I slowly wipe the handkerchief across my face, trying to clean the shame from me.

A trembling breath escapes me as I hold onto the door. “Valentin, I love you. I know you love me too.”

“Love and lust aren’t the same thing, sweetheart. Love gets you killed!”

Valentin barely glances at me as he buttons his cuffs and says, “Now, get the fuck out.”

His arrogant dismissal sets something off inside me, making me erupt in anger. I charge at him, screaming in fury and striking my fists hard against his chest.

Just then, Lev appears. He swiftly grabs me and pulls me toward the door. I resist, kicking and twisting, but his grip only tightens.

I spin around to face Valentin, a long moment stretching between us, heavy and suffocating.

My stomach churns. “You’re working with him,” I yell, rage and betrayal twisting in my chest.

His eyes widen, nostrils flaring. “What?”

“Petrov! You sick bastard.” My throat constricts, and my heart feels heavy.

Valentin’s demeanor hardens, a deep pain flickering in his gaze. “Is that what you think?”

“That’s why you’re doing this to me.”

Valentin shakes his head, letting out a sharp breath. “If that’s what you need to believe, then yes, I’m working with him.”

I shut my eyes, struggling to steady my breath, attempting to comprehend the unsettling truth that Valentin has only been manipulating me all along.

“I hate you,” I shout repeatedly, each word filled with rage, until Lev forcefully pushes me out of the warehouse. I tumble onto the cold, hard cement. Lev carelessly drops my bags beside me and slams the door shut, leaving me alone outside in the dark.