51 A Clear Demonstration

“What?” I don’t understand.

“Aren’t you getting a little too sweet with that dandy?! Remember our contract and who you belong to!” Kirill barks at me, and I boil over in response to his audacity.

“Oh! I would love to forget about the contract, but I can’t!” I snap back, wanting to strangle the bastard. “Hard to forget when my children are held hostage by a grandfather who’s out of his mind and a tyrant of a father! And what else am I supposed to call you two when you exploit the weakest spot of any mother—her children—by setting your idiotic conditions?! And I do NOT belong to you! I’m not a thing! I belong to myself! And who I talk to, and how exactly I talk to them, is MY decision!”

I see Kirill’s eyes flash dangerously at my loud declaration. In an instant, his face is suddenly far too close to mine. He grabs my jaw, looming over me with his bulk, and I press back into the seat.

“Listen to her sing, the blue‑eyed witch!” the bastard sneers, his gaze roaming over my face. “Looks like you need a little reminder—and a clear demonstration—of who you belong to!”

My breath is stolen by a sudden, forceful kiss. I want to push the man away, but instead of letting go, he starts lifting my dress and trying to reach my panties. He attacks on all fronts!

Pulling back from my lips, Kirill begins to kiss my neck insistently, leaving his marks on my body while our hands struggle over the hem of my dress.

“I should have given it to Nazar that night!” righteous anger bursts from me. “There would’ve been fewer problems! And most likely, he’s a more experienced lover and would have done everything without consequences for me in the form of children! And it was just once, and I ended up with two kids! What a damn amateur!”

“I seem to recall that night, it was far from just once,” the man smirks sarcastically, continuing to make his way to my panties. Grabbing my hands with his massive grip, he throws them over the headrest, holding them effortlessly.

“For the price I paid for you, you could’ve performed better,” I lie boldly and shamelessly, though the man has done his job fully, he doesn’t need to know that.

“Vicky, don’t make me even angrier,” Kirill warns, but I hear a hint of mockery in his voice from my words. “Your tongue is your enemy. Don’t worry, we’ll find a use for it soon enough. God, I want you so badly, bitch!”

“You said you’d wait until the wedding!” I try to find some escape from this situation, as my body is enjoying what’s happening and, against my will, a fire is already burning in my feminine core.

“I said that, but you’re provoking me, and I’m not made of iron,” Kirill yanks down the neckline of my dress, and my breasts are exposed before his face. “So juicy! Insane!”

“Don’t touch! They’re for the kids!” I blurt out as his lips close on one of my nipples, lightly sucking.

Kirill starts playing with my areolas with his tongue, tracing them in turn, gently nibbling and blowing on the sensitive peaks.

And perhaps I could have resisted this sweet torture, if not for his hand, which is doing far more indecent things than his lips. He reached my sensitive, aroused nub and began skillfully stimulating it through the thin fabric of my panties.

Contrary to his sharp and demanding lips busy with my breast, his hand softly and tenderly caresses my intimate area, creating an unusual contrast of force and pleasure, demand and sensuality. Kirill slowly and carefully moves his fingers over my flesh through the fabric, sometimes pinching lightly, sometimes languidly rubbing the gathering wetness.

After a couple of minutes of such confident movements, I realized that my underwear was completely soaked with feminine juices, and a quiet moan escaped my lips. My heart was pounding like crazy, and my breathing couldn’t keep up, as his lips kept returning to mine, alternating with kisses on my breasts.

It felt so good through my panties that the whole world went to hell, and I began to move my hips to meet Kirill’s movements, wanting something more.

This man—some kind of punishment sent from above! And how is it that in just a few minutes he can make me forget my principles, my pride, and everything else, wanting only for him to continue what he started with my body?

“Kirill,” I moan into his lips, letting him know that what he’s doing is not enough. The man smiles at me through his lips, licking and lightly biting them.

“What’s wrong, my stubborn and fierce tigress?” the fiancé whispers into my neck, continuing to push me to the edge. “Tell me, what do you want?”