Blood of My Monster (Monster Trilogy #1 ) by Rina Kent

The dark possessiveness in his words should scare me, and it does to an extent, but I can’t think straight with him pounding me to within an inch of my life.

His rhythm is as intense as he is. He fucks with his usual control, but sometimes, he goes so fast and so hard that even he can’t control it. His glasses fog up from sweat and exertion, and he throws them aside and then ramps up the intensity.

My breasts bounce and ache from the arousal, and my hips hit the marble counter a few times. The sting of pain adds to the savage pleasure building in my core.

All of a sudden, he tightens his grip on my throat and cuts off my oxygen.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t…

Just when I think I’m going to die, I come.

And then air and ecstasy rush through me all at once. I start to fall over, but Kirill pushes me down against the counter. The shock of cold hits my heated skin, and my hard nipples scrape against the marble.

But those bursts of discomfort are forgotten when he grips me by the back of my neck and fucks me through my orgasm. He goes deeper, pulls out, then drives back in again and again.

Then he rams into me with the lethality of an animal. He is an animal.

A monster who can’t get enough.

Not even when I start crying from how intense it gets. Not even when I think I’ll actually pass out.

Kirill doesn’t stop or slow down, and he certainly doesn’t finish. He fucks me on and on, until pleasure begins to blend with pain. Until I don’t know if I ever want him to stop.

The way he takes what he wants and uses me for his own pleasure makes my thighs messy and sticky with arousal. Another orgasm builds in my core and spreads all over my body.

That’s when Kirill growls, pounds harder for a few strokes, and then warmth fills my insides.

He pulls me up by my throat so that my back is glued to his clothed chest. His hot breaths fill my ear before he growls, “Mine.”

A frightening shudder goes through me when I realize that he means that and will probably stop at nothing to really make me his.





30





KIRILL





The moment I open my eyes, I realize two things.

One, I fell asleep.

Ever since my father started his torture sessions, my type of sleep has been only resting my eyes. I’m always fully aware of my surroundings and ready to spring into action at any moment.

I haven’t had a deep night's sleep in…maybe twenty years or so, to the point that I’ve forgotten what it feels like. The army made my sleeping habits even more erratic. What’s the point of resting my eyes when I could be using that time to do something constructive?

Consequently, my sleeping time has gotten shorter and shorter over the years. The only exception was that night in the village. I found it concerning then, and it’s even more troubling now, considering I actually fell into a deep sleep for…over six hours.

This brings me to the next thing I’ve realized.

Sasha is gone.

The bed is crumpled where she slept, and her scent lingers in the air, but that’s the only evidence that she was ever here.

I look down and find a blanket has been thrown over me, surprisingly managing to cover almost the entirety of me.

After I put her to bed, I sat in my usual spot on the sofa, meaning to do some work, but apparently, I fell fucking asleep. Not only did I not notice her waking up, dressing, and leaving, but I also didn’t sense her touching me.

Fucking fuck.

I spring up and head to the bathroom to see if she’s there, despite having the feeling that she’s not. I stop at the threshold as memories from last night hit me. The fucking, moaning, slapping, grunting, and crying.

There was a lot of crying when Sasha couldn’t take being fucked anymore, but sometimes, there was begging, too, so I let her come.

The more the tears streamed down her cheeks, the harder I got. The longer she begged, the more I needed to own her so thoroughly, no one would be able to take her away from me.

I wanted to stop after that first time since she was clearly spent and probably sore, so I tried to be a gentleman and took her into the shower. But the moment her body fell against mine in a half hug because she couldn’t stand properly, all gentlemanly thoughts flew out the window. Not that the role had come to me naturally in the first place.

As my nature dictated, I fucked her against the shower wall until she had no choice but to hold on to me. Until she nearly fainted from how many times she came, and I had to use her mouth to finish off.

She did smile, although faintly, and murmured, “Thank you.” Now, I’m not sure what she was grateful for, but I still reveled in the fact that she was thankful to me.

If anyone were to ask what’s come over me, I wouldn’t have an answer. Even I don’t know what the fuck happens to me when Sasha is around.

In the beginning, it was mere curiosity as to why she pretends to be a man, but then I got to know her determination and tenacity, and it grew into a form of respect.

That says something since I only hold respect for a select few people and it took them a long time to earn it.

Soon after, I was irritated that she had the audacity to hide secrets from me when I own her life.

Now, it’s fucked-up desire. The type that’s impossible to satisfy, no matter how long or hard I fuck her. As if to prove my words, my dick strains against my sweatpants, demanding another round in her tight cunt.