Page 60 of Viper’s Reign

DIMITRI

Watching her cunt get wetter and wetter while her face turns so red it’s almost purple shouldn’t make my cock this hard. Fuck.

She’s getting wet because I’m standing here like an asshole observing it all, and it only confirms what I already know.

My men tried to extract the truth from her for three days, and she didn’t crack. They went easy on her, sure, but for someone who’s never been tortured in that way before, she should have broken. The fact that she didn’t suggests she’s either secretly a very tough assassin or is being threatened with someone she loves. My money is on the latter. Which means brute force won’t get me what I need.

Women like her would rather sacrifice their own lives than risk the safety of the person they’re protecting.

Anger pulses through me, clashing with the need building in my gut until I feel almost feral. The sweet scent of her arousal drifts to my nose, and my cock twitches hard enough that precum soaks into my boxers. Goddammit.

My fists clench. I can’t be in here another second, or I’ll kick Arie out and fuck the hell out of Grace while demanding answers. I could kill her or seriously hurt her with how unhinged I am right now. And that won’t do. I need her guard down, and more importantly, I need her to trust me.

So when Arie picks up the IUD and prepares to insert it into Grace’s dripping cunt, I force myself to turn on my heel and leave, cock throbbing with every step.

The door clicks shut behind me, but the image stays burned into my mind—her swollen clit, the embarrassment on her face, her soaked folds, her scent…

My mouth waters as I stride down the hall to the next guest bedroom, my balls aching, pressure building. I slip inside and close the door, my hand already in my pants. Then I squeeze my cock so hard I groan, stars exploding behind my eyes. Fuck. I won’t be able to think clearly until I get this under control.

I make it into the en suite in a few rough steps and lock the door, the click swallowed by my ragged breaths. My fingers fumble with my belt before shoving my pants and boxers down in one fluid motion. My cock springs free, thick and angry, the head flushed purple and slick with precum that strings from the tip. I wrap my fist around it and stroke once—hard.

The friction sends an electric jolt straight up my spine, but it’s not enough. I stroke again, faster, imagining Grace’s wet folds clenching around me instead of the cold metal of that speculum. Her scent clings to my senses, musky and intoxicating, blurring reality as I picture burying myself inside her, feeling her ripple around my cock while she chokes on my name.

Three more strokes and my hips start bucking into my fist, the pressure coiling tight in my gut. Four, and her face flashes in my mind again—red, breathless, her eyes squeezed shut in mortified pleasure.

It takes only a few more strokes before I’m coming, thick ropes spilling into the sink as I groan her name, legs rubbery with the force of it.

My fist milks every last spurt, cock twitching in my grip, but the release does nothing to douse the flames. If anything, it stokes my hunger, leaving me panting, spent yet feral with my need for more, already plotting how to break through her walls.

Sexual torture.

Yeah, that could work.

By the time I’m done with her, she’ll be so wrapped up in me, in needing me, she’ll be putty in my hands. The thought has my cock hardening again, despite the mess I made.

“I’m just as fucked as she’ll be,” I mutter as I clean myself up and pull my pants back on. I’m buckling my belt when my phone buzzes with a text.

NOAH

Channel Six is airing an interview they had with Daniel Salvi a few days ago. You might wanna see this.

Fucking Salvi.

My cock goes flaccid, and I inhale deeply as I leave the bathroom, already scrolling through my phone for the streaming app to get on Channel Six and catch whatever bullshit he’s spouting this time. I reach the channel right as the interviewer is at the tail end of a question.

“—explosion?”

I frown, pissed I missed the question, but Daniel fills it in quickly enough with his answer.

“It would have been a shame if we had lost that warehouse. It’s one of the biggest along the East River, but thankfully the explosion was contained to only one of the structures.” Daniel turns his face directly to the camera. “Intel that reached me suggests the Petrov family was responsible.”

Cold fury works through my veins as I walk into my study. He’s talking about the explosion that almost killed Vanya and Melani, and he’s trying to pin it on us?

“It pains me that in this modern day, we still get news about loss of infrastructure and life because of these criminals. They’re a cancer to our society, and I can’t wait until I’m in office to get rid of them.” He gives the interviewer a charming smile.

The interviewer doesn’t return it. “You’re speaking as if your victory is a foregone conclusion.”

“Isn’t it?” Daniel chuckles. “The polls don’t lie, Peter.”