Chapter 11

London, England

Sophia suddenly felt uncomfortably awkward. She’d only had sex with two other men. Not even men, really. High school and university boys were not men. They hadn’t been remotely like the man in front of her.

Thankfully, Viktor didn’t give her any more time for the insecurity to claw any deeper.

His voice rumbled through her, his warm breath at her ear, sending delicious tremors over her skin as he handed her the communication blocker. “Your protection.”

He bent and lifted her into his arms before she knew what he was doing. He might be a dangerous man, but when his thick arms bracketed her, she felt oddly safe, and she couldn’t shake the desire to curl into his chest and set her lips to the strong column of his tanned neck.

His strides were long and sure as he carried her through the room to the doorway she’d seen. His gaze seared into hers as he kicked the door shut behind them and kept moving toward a bed with what had to be a ten-foot-high black leather headboard. She took in the shades of gray—clean, masculine, and simple.

She wobbled a bit when he set her down by the bed, unsteady and very aware of what they were about to do. After years of fantasizing about him, she wondered if the reality was going to be half as incredible. One look at him said he was about to blow her mind.

If only her nerves weren’t kicking back up. She hadn’t been this nervous in the hotel room. She’d been too consumed with lust to think at all. She turned away quickly, and with trembling fingers, she set the jamming device on the stone fireplace mantel, her sexual bravado of before nearly nonexistent. The flickering light on the side of the device seemed to taunt her, daring her to let go and have fun. She was safe. The drapes were slowly gliding shut, stamping out the soft sliver of moonlight. It was Viktor’s doing, she was sure. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t seem to get her anxiety under control.

The fire came to life a moment later, casting a warm glow over the very masculine space. His hands slid over her arms from behind, and her muscles instantly tensed. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, Princess.”

She wanted to argue that she was fine, but he had read her accurately. Instead, she leaned back into his warmth, wanting to find that lust-filled haze where nothing existed but pleasure.

She closed her eyes, admitting what he’d probably figured out. “I haven’t done this in a while.”

“How long?” His warm breath was near her ear, and she tilted her head, wanting his lips there or on her throat, as he’d done in Paris.

“Four years, give or take.”

When he slowly turned her to face him, he seemed very serious. “So long?”

He was gauging her response, but she didn’t know what he was looking for. “Yes.”

He tilted her chin up so he was looking into her eyes. The look on his face was more fiercely protective than the encounter warranted. “Is there a reason? Something I need to know?”

Her fingers stilled at the buttons of his shirt when she realized what he was asking. His reaction warmed her in a very dangerous way. She couldn’t afford to get attached to him. This was about one thing—pleasure.

With a self-deprecating tilt of her lips, she shook her head. “Nothing happened. It just hasn’t been worth it.”

She wasn’t going to tell him that her dry spell was partly due to fantasizing about him for eight years. That just seemed sad. But earth-shattering chemistry wasn’t something she’d experienced before now.

She saw the moment he decided to accept her answer and pull her in for another devastating kiss. The tension melted from her muscles. His kisses were demanding, consuming. His tongue slid along hers, tangling in the same way she wanted his body to writhe with hers. She barely felt the material of her dress being loosened.

Fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, she made a frustrated noise, pushing the offending material free the instant she could. She broke away to gaze at the hard-packed muscle that flexed under her touch. His skin was incredibly hot. She traced down the fine line of hair leading beneath his waistband. Her roving fingers loved the way his skin rippled as if following her path. Were there faded bruises on his side? She bit her lip to keep from asking, but she couldn’t stop touching him, reveling in the dips and angles she found. He was beautiful.

He groaned before slipping the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders. It took great effort to pry her hands from his body long enough to send the material to the floor. She hadn’t bothered with a bra since the dress was tight and lined. She heard him utter a harsh Russian curse when his hands caressed her heated bare skin. He broke away to gaze down at her body.

With a show of strength, he lifted her and tossed her to the bed. A gasp escaped her when her back met soft bedding. His intense look followed the way her breasts bounced with the movement.

“Spread your legs for me.” His demand was softly spoken, but no less a command as he removed his shirt with very deliberate movements.

Her breathing was ragged, and her eyes tracked the way his shoulders flexed with every movement. She hadn’t ever been ordered to do anything in bed, but it made her nipples so much tighter. His intent gaze only added to the intensity of the moment.

She spread her thighs, emboldened by the hard bulge fighting the confines of his slacks. His expression seemed to warm when she did as ordered. The delicate black lace didn’t cover much, and she wondered why he hadn’t told her to remove her panties first.

“Slide the material over. Show me.” The words were a guttural command this time.

She swallowed because his demanding nature ignited something inside her. The desire to obey fought with the need to rebel. The entire time, his eyes tracked her face and her body, seeming to catalog her every reaction.

“Do you always give orders in bed?” Huskier words had never left her lips.

“Yes. And you like it.” An arrogant statement if she’d ever heard one.

“So sure?” she challenged.

“Yes. Show me.”

She’d gotten wetter with every second, every word he spoke, but she felt the need to push him, so she hesitated.

When his eyes shot to hers, she arched a brow while very slowly sliding the material aside. Her clit throbbed as the fabric rasped against the sensitive nub. She was tormenting herself with this show.

His eyes roved over the bare, slick folds. His eyes flashed with pleasure as his thick fingers unfastened his charcoal pants. When he finally freed his cock, she sucked in some much-needed air. She’d felt him through the material, but now there was no mistaking how long and thick he was.

“So wet for me already,” he praised, staring at her slit as he finished removing his pants and black boxer briefs. He tossed a few foil packets on the bed beside her before crawling between her open thighs.

Every move he made was animalistic, predatory. Sexy. He eased the material back, rasping it over her clit before rising over her to claim her lips in another savage kiss. She gasped at the purposeful way he tormented her.

She was breathless and aching when his lips moved to her jaw and neck. His bare cock rocked against the material over her clit before sliding down. She groaned before curling her leg over his hip, attempting to grind her pussy against him.

He growled, “Do not come.”

She was panting and writhing with the way his lips and teeth tormented her sensitive neck. She couldn’t answer if she wanted to, and she was already too close to stop.

He lifted from her without warning, pulling a desperate denial from her lips. He sat kneeling between her spread thighs, his cock hard and ready. “I said not to come, Princess.”

“Why?” Was he a sadist? She hadn’t come, but she desperately wanted to.

His gaze softened in a way that was sexy as hell. “It will be better if you wait, Котёнок.” She didn’t argue with him about calling her his kitten. She loved the word on his lips.

“It won’t,” she assured him, shaking her head, not believing it could be better.

He trailed a single knuckle down her exposed throat to her breast, raking it over her nipple, but not giving her more. He was coaxing and demanding with his fingers, and the look on his face was that of a man used to getting what he wanted, but patient enough to get what he demanded. She squirmed as he said, “You want to obey me in this. I can see it.”

She was on fire enough to nod. Words were too difficult, and they would all be a lie at this point.

He seemed to debate something for a moment before shaking his head and settling his weight back between her thighs, right where she needed him. Her fingers dug into the strands of his hair when he moved his lips to her throat. Her hips writhed for contact when he slid down to her breasts, both loving and hating his new position because she’d lost the sensation of his hard cock riding her clit. She made a frustrated sound that turned into a cry as he sucked a taut nipple into his hot mouth, lavishing it with attention. Her vision started to blur at the onslaught of pleasure.

Her back bowed off the bed as she pushed for more. Wild surges of sensation rocked all the way to her aching clit.

When he nipped the tight peak, her head thrashed in the bedding. Her body was on fire as she held his head to her, demanding more of the wicked, flicking tongue. Her legs moved restlessly up and down his sides as if she might come despite his not even touching her clit.

One of his hands moved to her other nipple and plucked as he tormented the one in his mouth. He growled, “So fucking responsive,” against her skin and moved to the next, torturing her more.

She was dizzy by the time his mouth trailed down her stomach. She felt the way the muscles of his back and shoulders tensed and flexed beneath her hold. It anchored her in the moment, or she’d have surely flown apart.

When he got to her pussy, she was too far gone to stop the tide. One touch of his lips against the scrap of lace covering her was all it took. She cried out as her first climax rolled over her.

She heard the rending of fabric as he ripped the material away, snapping the thin lace. Suddenly, all she could hear was her own pulse as he licked her folds before moving to nip and suck her aching clit. The action caused her hips to jerk as new pleasure rushed through her, shocking her and almost taking her under again.

His strong hands braced her hips against the bed, and that unyielding hold unleashed something dark and wild inside her. She cried out as she came harder than before.

When he finally rose from her, the look in his eyes was primal. He grabbed a condom and tore it open with his teeth, sheathing himself in seconds.

She thought he’d slam straight into her, but he didn’t. He came in for another mind-stealing kiss. She kissed him back, loving the erotic taste of herself, a reminder of how he’d feasted on her. Her body easily primed for more.

When he leaned back to kneel between her thighs, he practically growled. “Your greedy pussy is about to milk me dry, isn’t it?”

She nodded, unable to speak. Those words. So dirty and sexy. She wrapped her fingers around his cock and drew him to where she needed him. The look on his face was that of a commanding man on the edge, and she instinctively knew she wasn’t doing anything he wasn’t allowing. He was hot and hard as she lifted her hips and led him in. The dark approval in his eyes sent delicious shivers over her skin.

He pushed in a fraction, and she moaned at the way her body stretched around the head, making her channel clench.

He gritted a warning. “You play a dangerous game. Squeeze me like that again, and I won’t be gentle.”

She loved how he looked, so ruthless, the tendons at his throat pulled tight. His chest and every inch of his body was taut from holding back. He eased into her, giving her time. She circled her hips, trying for more of him.

The look he gave her was a warning. “Don’t.”

She swallowed. “Did I ask for gentle?”

His jaw tensed. “You tempt too much.”

She pushed for more of him, and he held her hips down, locking them to the bedding while holding her upper thighs wide. The action made her throb. She tightened around him as she grew impossibly wetter. “Do it. Fuck me like you want to, Viktor.”

He cursed in Russian before accusing, “You like pain, Princess?”

She didn’t, or at least, she didn’t think so. She shook her head. “I’m wetter than you think.”

He held her down until her eyes closed in pleasure.

“You have no idea what you do. Look at me,” he ground out while rocking in and out of her, priming her by flexing those sexy narrow hips.

Her eyes slitted open, meeting his intent gaze a split second before he slammed in the remaining inches.

She cried out in sheer pleasure at being so full. She’d never felt anything like it.

The way he held her down was too much. It made her buck and fight for more, and when she couldn’t move, she came all the harder.

He drove into her, thrusting hard and fast, his eyes on her face as he claimed her body. He used it like she wanted him to until his cock throbbed. The tendons of his neck pulled tight as he buried himself deep, shouting in Russian. She felt him pulsing inside her, knowing thick jets of come would have filled her up if not for the thin barrier of protection. What would it feel like to be full of his hot come?

Jesus, what is wrong with me?

Taking ragged breaths, she threw a forearm over her eyes, hiding her thoughts from him.

He eased slowly from her body, and she felt cold as he left the room, probably to get rid of the condom. Her limp limbs prevented her from the simplest act of covering herself. She was spent and sated in a way she’d never known.

When Viktor returned, he gently eased her beneath the blankets and onto silky soft sheets. She didn’t have the strength or desire to protest when he pulled her against his side with her head resting on his chest. It felt good. Maybe too good.

His fingers grazed her arm in a soothing caress that lulled her nearly to sleep.

After several long moments, he asked, “Have you always enjoyed being held down?”

She felt her skin heat at his question. There was no censure, merely curiosity, one lover discussing the needs of the other. It was probably a normal conversation, but it wasn’t one she’d ever had.

“There’s nothing wrong with what you desire.”

She felt his eyes on her and turned to face him with a sigh. “This is all new to me. This kind of conversation. I don’t know how to do this, Viktor,” she explained honestly. She didn’t have it in her to be deceptive right then. For some reason, she didn’t want to have to be. Not here. Not in her fantasy world.

His fingers didn’t stop moving. “You can trust me.”

That was far more dangerous to her than any fantasy she could discuss. It was intimate.

She bit her lip, not looking up at him. She wanted to share with him, wanted to trust him with her secrets, if only the sexual ones. “I’ve never been held down, but I’ve thought about it.” She’d thought about it a lot. Through the years, her desires and fantasies had evolved. She could blame the celibacy. Or porn. Or both.

“What else do you think you’ll like?” His body seemed to heat beneath her, and she tilted her head to look at him. His question conjured up images of all the dirty things she’d dreamed of him doing to her over the years. All over again, she wanted him, and she wondered if it showed on her face.

His eyes darkened. “Tell me.”

She hesitated and finally shook her head.

He groaned. “In the dead of night, when you play with your pussy, what do you dream, Котёнок?” His kitten.

It was one night. One night to get her fill of him. But how could she share something so personal? He’d starred in the fantasies, but they were hers. “It’s too personal.”

“What if I could give you what you wish, Sophia?” His deep voice was a temptation.

Her face heated as his tone grew lower, coaxing her. “I will learn your secrets.”

Wasn’t that what she was afraid of? Being laid bare. What if he wasn’t turned on by the same things? Either way, a few hours weren’t enough for what she’d dreamed of. She had nearly a decade’s worth of pent-up desires.