Page 119 of Bought By the Ruthless Pakhan

I came fast, trembling and calling his name.

His rough whisper filled my ear. "Say it. Say you're mine. Only mine."

"I'm yours," I gasped, barely coherent. "Only yours, Master."

"Good." His voice was dark velvet, satisfied and hungry all at once. "Now let's see how much you can take."

He shifted, positioning himself at my entrance, teasing. Not entering. Just dragging the head of his cock through my wetness, circling my clit with agonizing slowness.

I whimpered, hips lifting instinctively.

"Patience, kitten." He pressed my hips down with one hand, holding me still. "You don't come again until I say so."

Then he pushed inside—slow, deliberate, stretching me inch by torturous inch. A year of celibacy made me unbearably tight, and he groaned low in his throat, eyes falling shut.

"Fuck, Anna. So tight. Like the first time."

I clenched around him involuntarily, and his fingers dug into my hips.

"Don't." His voice was strained. "Don't move yet or I'll lose it."

But I couldn't help it. My body remembered his, craved this. I rocked against him, desperate.

His control snapped.

He pulled out almost completely, then slammed back in, setting a brutal pace. Deep. Hard. Relentless.

The bed frame creaked with each thrust, headboard knocking against the wall. He leaned over me, one hand braced besidemy head, the other gripping my bound wrists, using them as leverage to drive deeper.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I forced my eyes open, met that stormy gray-blue gaze.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You," I choked out.

"Say my name."

"Ivan."

He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside that made stars burst behind my eyelids.

I cried out, thighs shaking.

"Again."

"Ivan, God, Ivan!"

"That's right." He slowed, grinding deep, circling his hips. "And this?" He reached between us, fingers finding my clit. "Who does this belong to?"

"You, please—"

"Please what?"

"Please let me come. Master, please."

He smiled, wicked and beautiful. "Not yet."