I leaned in, my face buried in her soaking heat, and let my tongue do the work that had made a rising icon. I wasn’t just being thorough; I was being surgical. I found that sensitive, swollen nub and began to work it with a relentless, flickering rhythm, my tongue flat and firm one second, then sharp and insistent the next.
"Oh god... Druski... Druski!" she scread, her fingers tangling in my hair and pulling my head closer, as if she were trying to rge her body with mine.
I ignored her pleas for rcy and increased the pressure, my fingers reaching up to find her entrance, sliding two deep into her tight, slick walls to mimic the friction she’d spent months watching on her office monitors. The combination was too much for her.
I felt her entire body go rigid. Her inner muscles began to clamp down on my fingers in a series of violent, rhythmic pulses. Her back arched so high only her heels and head were touching the bed, and then, with a sharp, guttural cry of my na, she erupted.
A warm, heavy spray hit , soaking the sheets and my face as she squirted with an intensity that left her gasping for air, her legs shaking uncontrollably. The Queen of the Streets was officially broken, her composure shattered into a million jagged pieces.
I pulled back, looking up at her. She was a wreck—hair matted to her forehead, eyes glazed and rolling, her chest heaving as she tried to rember how to breathe.
"First ti?" I asked with a dark, knowing smirk, wiping a stray drop of her from my lip.
"I... I hate you," she rasped, though the way she reached down to pull back up toward her said the exact opposite. "Get up here. Right now. I need to feel it. I need to feel all of it before I lose my mind."
I stood over her, a silhouette of raw power looming above her shattered composure. My cock, thick and pulsing with the force of the [Infinite Engine], cast a long, dark shadow over her stomach, the tip hovering just inches from her face before I moved lower. I watched her eyes track it, wide and srized, as I positioned myself between her trembling thighs.
"You’re the boss, Monet," I whispered, my voice a low, vibrating growl as I pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, locking her into the mattress. "Tell exactly what you want to do to you."
"I want you to rip apart," she gasped, her regal mask fully discarded. Her chest heaved, her small, dark nipples straining toward . "Murder my pussy like you do with those girls on the screen. Don’t be a gentleman, Druski. Be the animal I paid for."
"Your will be done, Boss," I said, a dark smirk tugging at my lips.
I lowered myself, the broad, velvet head of my cock grazing against her soaking wet lips. She was overflowing, her own cream slicking her entrance as I rubbed my length against her, teasing the sensitive folds. I reached down with my free hand, my fingers burying into her firm, high breasts, squeezing them until they puffed out between my fingers.
"You like it raw, don’t you?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave as the tip of began to stretch her open. "No barriers. Just skin to skin."
"Yes, baby," she moaned, her head thrashing against the pillow. "Make yours. Claim ."
I didn’t wait another second. I positioned my head at her opening, which looked impossibly small and delicate compared to the massive, iron-hard girth of my cock. The contrast was staggering—my thick, dark veins straining against her tight, pale-pink entrance.
I leaned my weight forward, slowly pushing. I watched as her skin stretched to the absolute limit, her tight walls turning white under the pressure before they finally yielded, slickly parting to swallow the head of my cock.
"Oh... fuck!" she scread, her eyes snapping open and rolling back as I drove deeper.
Her body was so compact, so petite, that every inch I gained felt like a total invasion. I could feel her internal muscles clenching in a panic, trying to accommodate the sheer volu of as I bottod out, my pubic bone slamming against hers with a heavy, wet thud. I had reached her very core, filling her so completely that there wasn’t a milliter of space left between us.
Monet let out a long, shuddering breath, her legs locking around my waist, her heels digging into my glutes. She looked small, claid, and utterly conquered beneath .
"You’re so... big..." she whimpered, her voice a fragile thread of sound. "You’re filling up to my ribs, Druski."
"Get used to the feeling, Monet," I growled, beginning to pull back until I was almost out, before slamming back ho with a relentless, bone-shaking force. "Because I’m not stopping until you forget you ever ran these streets."
I began to pick up the pace, my hips drumming a heavy, primitive rhythm against her. The bed fra began to groan, echoing the ragged moans coming from her throat.
I locked her wrists tighter against the headboard, my knuckles white, as I shifted my cock into high gear. I didn’t just increase the pace; I turned my hips into a relentless piston, driving into her with a chanical, bone-jarring ferocity.
The sound in the room changed. It was no longer just the soft rustle of sheets; it was the heavy, wet thud of my pelvis slamming against her glutes and the rhythmic creak-snap of the bed fra straining under the violence of the movent.
I knew Volkov was out there. I knew that ginger-bearded giant was sitting on my couch, hearing the woman he feared and respected being absolutely dismantled by the man he’d tried to slap. Every ti Monet’s voice hit a high, glass-shattering note, it was a ssage to the Russian: The King is in charge now.
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