Ronan dropped my other leg, gripped my face, and forced my gaze to meet his. “Eto moye.” This is mine. He punctuated the harsh words by scissoring his fingers inside of me. My eyes rolled back, stars flying. Pleasure licked at my veins, building and building, until the feeling was all that existed. Panting, I lifted my head to watch his hand between my legs, then dropped it back to the couch with a moan when he rubbed my G-spot. I was so close to release—so close I’d do anything to get there. “Don’t stop,” I breathed. “Ty dash’ mne trakhnut tebya?” I didn’t know what he said, but I wasn’t sure I’d comprehend the words even if he spoke them in English. I could only close my eyes and chase friction until he pressed his lips to my ear and demanded, “Otvet’ mne.” Answer me. The words were soft and coarse but a command nonetheless. I didn’t have the breath to tell him he was speaking Russian. All I knew was, if he kept fingering me, he could have anything he wanted: my heart, my soul, anal—whatever. So I hoped he sought a “yes” response, and I nodded. He abruptly pulled his fingers away. The budding release crashed, and desperation seared through me in waves. “No. Please,” I begged, my eyes flicking open. “Please—” He covered my mouth with a hand and pushed into me with one hard thrust that tore a cry of pain from my throat. It felt like a lance of fire, burning so intensely tears pooled in my eyes. I gripped his forearm for something to hold onto, my blunt nails digging through his shirtsleeve. Reflexively, my back arched in an effort to shove him out, but he was too heavy to remove. Ronan’s heart pounded against my chest, every inch of his body tense. “Kotyonok . . . yesli ya—” He clenched his teeth and tried again in English. “Tf I pull out, will I have blood on my cock?” I didn’t know how he expected me to answer with his palm still covering my mouth, so I only shook my head in a hopeful lie. It was the perfect timing for a tear to run down my cheek and over his hand. He watched the tear’s descent like it was acid, then pulled his palm away and braced both of them on the couch beside my head. “Fuck,” he growled before closing his eyes and exhaling. “Please tell me you’re just a really tight and emotional fuck, Mila.”