Chapter 74: Before The Directives [III]

Irena’s nails sank into the hard muscle of Alexander’s shoulders, her grip desperate, as though her life depended on it. In this moment, it just might. Then, with same deliberate slowness he pushed back in, in a full, deep stroke, sinking all the way in until his hips pressed flush against hers. The stretch was deep and unyielding, forcing her body to take every inch of him.

Alexander stayed there, buried to the root, enjoying the warmth of his wife’s honeypot.

The pressure bloomed hot and heavy, pushing against the tender spot deep inside that made Irena’s vision spark white at the edges.

"Urh...Alex...p— please...move," she breathed.

Alexander did it again, pulling out all the way until she felt empty and aching, then thrust home in one fluid motion. The bed shuddered, making the headboard tap against the wall.

He settled into that rhythm, each thrust measured and inexorable, driving her mad with the slow, relentless drag of his cock leaving her empty before slamming back in to fill her again. His mouth returned to her breast, but now his hips never stopped moving, and everything multiplied. Suck and thrust. Tongue and cock. Two different kinds of pressure meeting in the middle of her body and tangling into one bright knot of pleasure.

Irena’s thoughts dissolved entirely. She was only sensation now: the warm, wet pull at her breast, the thick, insistent stretch between her thighs, the scrape of his chest hair against her smooth stomach, the scent of him — musk and sex and something wilder underneath, like pine and rain.

"Alex, faster," she heard herself say. "Please fuck me harder, you know I won’t break."

He lifted his head, lips still connected to her nipple for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Then something dark and pleased crossed his face. He rose onto his forearms, caging her, changing the angle so that every thrust now dragged against the upper wall of her sheath where the nerves lay densest. The new position made her back arch violently off the mattress, a broken cry tearing from her throat as each wicked thrust hit that spot inside her that made her eyes roll back and her vision turn blurry.

"You love it like that?" he asked, voice gone rough at the edges.

Irena couldn’t form words. She nodded, frantic, her legs hooking around his hips to pull him deeper. Her ankles locked at the small of his back. The bed creaked in earnest as Alexander drove into her with long, powerful thrusts, the restraint from moments before burning away like fog at dawn. There was nothing gentle left in him. But she didn’t want gentle. Not now. The soreness from last night was now a distant memory, irrelevant and small compared to the fire building in her core.

His mouth found her throat, hot and demanding against her pulse point. She felt his teeth graze the skin where her shoulder met her neck, not biting, just resting there as a silent threat and a promise. The sensation sent a shiver through her that tightened her entire body.

I’m going to fill you up, my love," he growled into the curve of her ear. His voice rough and thick with lust. "G-going to...fuck you...good...Irena — you won’t have... to use...your legs."

"D-do it, Alex," she gasped, her voice cracking under the weight of her desire. "Cripple me with your insatiable dick, Alexander."

The encouragement spurred him on and lit a fire in his veins. He drove deeper, increasing the pace until the rhythm turned frantic and urgent. Each thrust pushed a small, gasping breath from Irena’s lungs. Her hands fisted in the sheets, then pulled at his hair, before reaching back to the fabric, searching desperately for something to anchor herself as the wave of heat built to a breaking point.

It started low in her belly, below the place he was filling, a hot coiling sensation that spread outward, through her hips, down her thighs, up along the inside of her spine. Her toes curled. Her head tipped back, exposing the long line of her throat, and Alexander took advantage, dragging his tongue from collarbone to jaw.

"Look at me," he said suddenly, voice sharp with command. "Look at me while I fuck you, Irena."

She obeyed. Their eyes locked, sliver on steel-blue, and in that moment the connection was so intense it nearly hurt. Fifty years. Fifty years of this, and he still looked at her like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing.

His hips snapped forward and held there, grinding against that perfect spot inside her. Irena’s mouth opened on a soundless cry. The coil tightened, tightened, tightened—

"Alexander—" Her voice broke. "I’m — I’m going to—"

"Yes," he growled, driving into her again, harder, faster. "Come for me, Irena. Now."

The command shattered her. Her body seized, arching off the bed as the orgasm ripped through her. Every muscle locked down, then released in rolling waves of pleasure that started at her center and radiated outward. She felt herself clenching around him, a series of violent, involuntary contractions that dragged a guttural sound from deep in his chest. Her vision whited. Her nails dug into his back hard enough to draw blood. Somewhere far away, she heard herself crying out his name, over and over, like a prayer.

He fucked her through it, his rhythm never faltering, drawing out each wave until she was shaking and boneless beneath him.

Only then did his control snap.

A sound escaped him — half snarl, half grunt—and his hips stuttered, losing their careful rhythm. He buried himself to the very hilt and stayed there, buried so deep she could feel him in her throat, and with a shudder that wracked his entire enormous body, he began to come.

The first hot pulse of his release triggered another tremor in her, smaller but no less sharp. She felt each surge, the wet heat spreading inside her, marking her. Claiming her. He kept thrusting in shallow, jerky movements, wringing out every last drop, his face buried in her neck, her name a broken litany against her skin.

"Fuck—Irena—my love—"

She held him through it, fingers soothing through his damp hair, her own body still twitching with aftershocks. Their hearts hammered against each other, two wild drums in the quiet room.

When he finally stilled, he didn’t pull out. Of course he didn’t. He stayed there, soft now but still nestled inside her, his weight a familiar comfort pressing her into the mattress. His breath came in ragged pulls against her damp skin. Irena stared at the ceiling, trying to remember how to think.

When he finally stilled, he didn’t pull out. Of course he didn’t. He stayed there, soft now but still nestled inside her, his weight a familiar comfort pressing her into the mattress. His breath came in ragged pulls against her damp skin. Irena stared at the ceiling, trying to remember how to think.

​"Fuck, Irena, are you sure you didn’t rub any aphrodisiac in your pussy?" he murmured against her neck, his voice low and heavy with affection. "Because I swear, I can’t seem to get enough of you."