Arlo pressed his chest to my back, slid his muscled arm over my waist, his hand so big, his palm so wide that it nearly spanned the entire width of my belly. He jerked me toward him even more so that my ass was pressed against his huge erection. I said nothing, didn’t move. I just let him rearrange me like a doll, any way he saw fit, because that’s how I liked it.

My eyes fluttered closed on their own when he slipped his hands between my legs, a low groan leaving him when he realized I wasn’t wearing any panties, his bare fingers coming up against my slick, hot pussy. He slid those calloused, thick digits through my folds, and I gasped, the first noise I allowed myself to make.

“Ty takoy mokryy.” You are so wet. Those Russian words were growled low against the side of my neck, pulling another moan from me as he rubbed my pussy lips, circled my entrance, then slid up to tease my clit. “You’re so wet, moy svet.” My light.

The endearment he always called me speared through my core, and I arched my back, my ass popping out more, rubbing along his hard cock. He was nude behind me, his skin warm and damp from his recent shower.

In a series of jerky, hurried, and impatient movements, Arlo all but ripped my—his—T-shirt up and over my head and pulled me back against his chest with a growl of pleasure when our bare skin touched.

“Beg for it,” he all but snarled against my neck, then licked the spot right beneath my ear, causing my entire body to shudder in ecstasy.

My inner muscles clenched, gripping, seeking something substantial… something only Arlo could give me. I couldn’t think, let alone speak, to obey his command, to plead for him to fuck me.

And God, that’s what I wanted. I wanted him to slam into me, take me brutally, without mercy. I didn’t want slow and sweet. I didn’t want him to make love to me. I wanted hardcore fucking from the monster I loved.

“Fucking beg for it, Galina.” His words vibrated low and menacingly, his voice strong enough to nearly have me orgasming right then and there without any penetration.

“Please.” That word was a tiny murmur from me, barely audible. But the harsh sound he made, the rough exhale that bathed my skin, told me he heard… it told me he approved and was barely holding on to his control.

He removed his hand from between my legs, but before I could protest, he grabbed my thigh and lifted it, placing it over his waist so I was spread even wider.

“Yes,” I moaned and tipped my head back, my eyes closed.