Sonya’s eyes were closed for about ten minutes before she heard the creaking of the wooden door and floorboards. She opened her eyes.
Dmitri had come back. He took one long stride toward the bed, bringing him a third of the way across the small cabin.
The only light was the candle on the table, just enough to illuminate Dmitri’s face and torso. He glared at Sonya with that same cold, disgusted look he’d given her before he stormed off.
But there was now a glimmer deep in his eyes, smoldering embers that couldn’t be extinguished no matter how hard he tried.
Dmitri wanted to be cold, independent, to go to war against Ivan and the rest of his enemies without worrying about the life, let alone the feelings, of a girl. But he couldn’t resist Sonya, and his eyes betrayed him, as they always do.
Sonya could see those embers, but she didn’t know how to make them grow again into the roaring fires Dmitri had scorched her with before, weeks before, on another beach not so far from there.
She stood up and spoke.
“Dmitri, I never wanted that crazy life. You have to believe me.”
“I don’t want excuses.”
“I’m not making excuses, I’m just…”
Dmitri cut her off by slowly shaking his head. He stepped toward her just as slowly.
Sonya was frightened. She knew for certain this man was capable of extreme violence. Besides what she’d already seen, he even threatened to kill the innocent receptionist.
And I’m a witness to various murders, too.
She didn’t know if he would direct that violence at her. Her shoulders trembled as he approached. She considered running, but where would she go?
Trapped on an island with a madman, like in a horror movie. Why won’t this nightmare end?
Dmitri reached up to the top of his arm sling and tore it off with single, abrupt movement.
“No, don’t do that,” she said. “You’re injured.”
But he wasn’t taking orders. He stepped forward again. Sonya went quiet, motionless.
Dmitri was now standing so close to the shivering girl, she could smell his sweat and sense the heat of his body. She could also feel her nipples hardening and brushing against his chest through the cloth of both of their shirts.
Sonya breathed fast. She stared straight forward at a button on Dmitri’s shirt. She could feel his hot breath against her face as she watched his chest rise and fall.
Sonya just wanted Dmitri to grab her and kiss her. But she braced herself as if he might hit her instead. She didn’t know what would happen. She was too scared to even look up at him.
Dmitri unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. He placed one stout finger beneath Sonya’s chin and steadily lifted her face until she looked into his eyes.
His eyes seemed bottomless, infinite. The embers had grown and his pupils were now incensed.
But she couldn’t tell whether those flames were of rage or desire. He was twisting his shirt up so that it resembled a rope.
“Maybe you like to be tied up? Maybe you like to be treated like a whore?” he growled in a tone of voice she’d never heard before.
Sonya didn’t respond. She wanted to run, to hurl herself into the waves, away from all these awful men.
Dmitri dropped the shirt, grabbed Sonya with his right hand and spun her around, almost crushing her frail shoulder in his strong grip.
Sonya shrieked, but Dmitri stifled the sound by placing a heavy hand over her mouth.
“Nobody can hear you here,” he said harshly, leaning down so his lips brushed against her hair as he spoke, and the words crashed ominously into her ear. “We’re all alone.”
Sonya trembled, reminded of similar words by the evil sheikh. But Dmitri soon made it clear just how different he was from al Hamar.
“I’ll tell you when you get to scream, and it won’t be a scream of fear,” Dmitri said, this time with a trace of longing in his voice. “It will be a scream of pleasure.”
He knew she would behave now. So he took his hand from her mouth and dragged it through her hair, letting his fingers tear through the tangles as she whimpered.
His left hand, though hanging from an injured shoulder, rose enough to grab her waist, pulling her hip like a handle so her butt pressed against the hardness in his pants.
Dmitri released Sonya’s hair and rubbed her body. First, up her shirt, then along the edge of her pants. Without moving his wounded shoulder, he raised both of his hands and groped at Sonya’s breasts through the cotton fabric of her t-shirt.
“No bra, eh?” he said. “You really are a bad girl, aren’t you?”
Sonya nodded her head.
He squeezed her breasts until his fingertips found her nipples and pinched them through her shirt.
“I didn’t hear you,” he said in a deep, low voice, his hot breath hitting her ear.
“Yes, I’m a bad girl. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? No, I didn’t ask for an apology. You have to show me your apology.”
Sonya nodded her head again, but faster this time, more emphatically, as she realized what Dmitri had in mind was definitely not violence. She let her head drift backward toward his chest as he roughly massaged her boobs.
Dmitri felt her body relax, but he didn’t want her to get too comfortable. He took one hand away from Sonya’s bosom and grabbed a fistful of her hair.
Sonya’s hair was still wet from the ocean and shower, so it hurt even more when Dmitri twisted it. He didn’t yank, he just firmly pulled down so her head veered away from his chest. This wasn’t the time for cuddling.
Water dripped out of Sonya’s hair and through Dmitri’s fingers until it ran down her neck and onto her shirt. A few droplets fell onto the cloth atop one of her nipples, which were straining for release.
Sonya reached for the hem of her shirt and lifted it toward her head. But Dmitri jerked it back down.
“Let me help you with that,” he said, as he put his hands inside the collar of Sonya’s t-shirt and ripped it in half.
Sonya gasped. Her breasts were free, and they ached to be held again, and soon they were, this time flesh on flesh.
“I guess you’ll have to go back to your disco outfit,” Dmitri said with a snicker.
But Sonya didn’t care - not at the moment, at least - that he’d destroyed her only decent top. She was just hoping he could tear denim apart, too.
She grinded her ass against Dmitri. His cock was so hard, Sonya imagined it ripping through her jeans. But she figured that was unlikely, so she unbuttoned her pants and slid down the zipper.
“You are so impatient,” Dmitri said. “You could not wait two weeks for me to come back, and now you cannot wait to take your pants off. Such an American girl, a short attention span.”
Sonya stopped taking off her jeans as her shoulders slumped forward with embarrassment. Dmitri didn’t help her finish the job, this time.
Instead, he spun her back around and glared into her eyes.
“You thought you could be an independent woman, didn’t you?”
Sonya nodded meekly.
“But now you know, you need me. Men and women are like two parts of a puzzle. We fit together, and we are nothing without each other. But just any two parts won’t do, will they?”
Sonya glanced down toward the bulge in Dmitri’s pants and shook her head.
“I’m going to make sure you don’t forget that again.”