15
THERE WERE ONLY TEN SECONDS LEFT, but forget it. I wasn’t going to fail this test, not when Luka had gotten me ninety-five percent of the way there. He hadn’t said how I was going to come, or who was responsible for getting me off, so he’d forced my hand. Literally. My face burned with humiliation as I set my fingertips on my clit and began to rub in tight circles.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this in front of him. It was so intimate and private, and it was as if he’d stripped me bare of my decency, forcing the raw, carnal version of myself out onto a stage. Luka’s eyes flooded with desire, turning into dark pools of lust. He seemed fascinated and excited to watch the show.
I was panting as I glanced at the clock a final time. Three seconds. I squeezed my interior muscles, and lifted up on my feet as the orgasm approached like a sudden hurricane. My hand moved furiously to encourage the swell.
“Fuck, yes.” It came as a gasp from him.
The orgasm tore through me, splitting me apart. I collapsed on the bed, gasping and shuddering as I pulled my hand away. My center was quaking in the aftermath of the explosion. The pleasure had been fast, but strong, and it took me several breaths before I could think again and the tingling faded.
Luka was a blur as he crawled off the bed and tore at his clothes. The t-shirt was yanked off and tossed away, followed by the descent of his jeans and boxers. He moved with precision, like he didn’t want to waste another second. Ironic when we’d spent five silent minutes staring at a ticking clock.
He was a clever bastard. If he’d demanded I touch myself, I likely would have done it, but I would have felt too uncomfortable to achieve climax. Had pushing me to the edge and leaving me dangling there been his goal? To see me get off by myself?
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him naked, but the sight of it still felt new and dangerous. Predators were the most beautiful creatures by design. His sinewy form encouraged my gaze downward, to where he was fully erect, angling out from his body. He wrapped a hand around the head of his dick and stroked. He looked at ease like this. Powerful and in control, the one hundred and eighty degrees from me. I’d felt scattered and frantic as he had watched me touch myself. Luka was confident.
When he climbed on the bed, I retreated, giving him as much room as I could. Only, I’d forgotten about the long metal chain attached to the leather band padlocked to my throat. He could grab it at any time and flex his control.
He didn’t. Instead he lay down on the bed and faced me, putting a hand on my shoulder. His voice was whisper-soft. “Come here.”
I wasn’t sure what he wanted and I was too afraid to ask. I inched closer with my breath held and my body tense. Luka studied my cautious approach, scooped an arm under me, and yanked me awkwardly on top of him, so I had one leg between his and our chests were pressed together. Naked flesh to naked flesh.
Like my bold act a few moments ago, this also felt shockingly intimate.
“Christ, Addison.” His eyes were heated. “Can you feel how hard you made me?” I could, since his erection was nudged against my hip. “You’re sexy as fuck.”
He caressed his hand up and down my back, stroking. Each pass it dipped lower, until he finally curled it around my thigh and shifted beneath me. Now I was straddling him and the contact of his skin on mine sent a delicious shiver up my spine.
“I knew you’d do it,” he said, and I could feel the deep rumble of his voice reverberating through his chest. “You’d be perfect, because you want to be the best at everything.”
I turned my head to the side and stared at the straight lines on the elegant wallpaper. I hated how he had me so figured out when I hadn’t a clue about him.
His lips pressed against my neck, just above the leather collar and beneath my jaw. He breathed the words and they soaked into my skin. “I want to do it right this time. Let me make it perfect for you.”
He was actually asking for permission, more or less, which struck me deep. He didn’t need my permission—I’d already agreed to surrender, so his statement threw me off-balance. His hands were fitted on my waist, holding but not trapping me.
Luka’s approach today was as it had been Friday night. Like the living frog in a pot of water, slowly increasing the heat on the burner until it was too late and he was boiled alive. I’d been the oblivious victim then, but now I went into it with eyes open. I saw Luka’s hand turning up the heat and chose to stay in the water anyway. I was a stupid girl and deserved whatever I got.
It was weird being on top since it gave me the illusion of control. It was only an illusion, though. His kiss engulfed me. When I moved my hips to line him up, he took over. He put his hand between us and held himself steady so I could slowly lower down.
I grimaced as he began to intrude.
“It still hurts?” he asked, halting my progress.
“Yeah.” The ache hadn’t been noticeable until I tried to take him inside.
“Go as slow as you want.”
His expression was confusing. It was the same concern I’d seen from him once before, mixed with something else . . . It was surprise. If I had to guess, he was surprised he was feeling concern, probably because he wasn’t used to having feelings at all.
I was anxious and nervous in the position. As if I were on display, but there was a sliver of excitement as well. I was about to have sex for the first time by choice, even if that choice was twisted and warped.
It hurt a little, but the pain was more discomfort rather than true pain as I eased myself further down on him. Luka’s eyes hooded, but he watched me, engrossed. The stretch between my legs was bearable, and I pushed down further.
Going slow was . . . strange.
I was hopelessly out of breath and trembling, unsure whether or not I could go on, but like everything else, I wanted to be good at this. A slow hiss crept out of Luka as I took another inch inside me. My hands gripped his arms ferociously. What did his hiss mean? Did he like it? My gaze connected with his, and time froze.
He’d said I stared at him like I wanted Luka to do bad things to me, and now I was seeing that same look from him. His eyes were filled with profane desire, and they were a loud plea for everything I could give.
“Fuuuuck,” he uttered when I’d made it all the way down and he was fully seated inside my body. His expression twisted with lust, focused only on me. It was crazy how he made me feel. He acted like all of my inexperience was a benefit, not a drawback. He was eager to show me more.
My breasts flattened against his chest and he reached up, tucking a wayward lock of my hair behind my ear. His fingertips lingered, skimming down over my lips. When he lifted his head up to bring our mouths together, he began to move, pushing his dick deeper.
Oh. My. God.
His mouth was fire and passion. All of his kisses before had been a warm-up and this was the big show. He’d drugged me on Friday night, but his kiss this morning was far more potent. I moved my lips against his, seeking his tongue, and moaned when he took control. His hands on my waist encouraged me to rock back and forth.
The slow, deep penetration was shocking, not just in sensation, but in how much I enjoyed it. His dick was so hard, and it felt . . . good. The contact of his body both inside and against mine was much more pleasurable than I’d expected.
“Do you like this?” I asked him between two painstakingly slow thrusts.
He shot me a look like I’d asked a ridiculous question. “You feel fucking amazing.”
Maybe I needed to give up thinking altogether, since I couldn’t sort out my feelings. His praise made me consider a shy, bashful smile and I longed for the confidence he always held.
He moved cautiously. Each thrust was gentle and paced, and he seemed to scrutinize my reaction, watching for any sign from me to stop. Luka cared now? I could handle him being callous and mean, but this version of him? Not so much.
His slide in and out of me sent electricity dancing along my nerve endings, and I gripped his arms, holding on as the onslaught began. His mouth walked over my skin, finding the perfect spots to cause shivers, and his fingers dug into my hips, driving me down on him.
“Do you like this?” he said softly, teasing my words back at me.
Did I? He’d built to a steady rhythm and it pounded away the sensible voice in my head. I shoved my face into the side of his neck. He smelled wonderful, all woodsy and manly. I whispered it against his skin. “It feels good.”
Deep inside me his muscle flexed. My mouth rounded into an O. That felt really good.
We were naked, and not moving all that fast, but in no time we were both slick with sweat. Luka was a furnace, and his hot mouth had me dizzy. So hazy, I didn’t notice his hand curling the silver chain around his fist. The chain was slack as he set his metal-wrapped hand on the small of my back.
There was pressure on my neck, tugging me up. His control on the leash gently forced me to sit upright on him, and my eyes went wide with panic. I didn’t like the distance between us. When I’d been over him, I’d been too close for him to really look at me, but now he was easing me back and going to see all of it.
“Grind on me,” he said. He squeezed my waist, showing me exactly how he meant. I tentatively swiveled my hips, and he groaned. “Yeah, just like that.”
His dark brown hair was askew, and his expression was raw. Primal. His body, glossed with sweat, was corded with lean muscle. Perhaps having to sit upright wasn’t so bad. I was supposed to hate him, but I didn’t right now. I’d suspend my hate until this was over, and enjoy looking at him until then.
The choker kept getting tighter, though, and I leaned back, having no choice but to reach behind and put a hand on his knee for support. My back arched and I stared up at the ceiling. It presented my breasts to him, and his hand slid a line up my belly and chest, until his palm cupped a breast.
What did we look like? I was riding him with my head thrown back, the roots of my hair damp with sweat, and his arm flexing as he pulled the leash, arching me like a bow. I lifted myself up and down, pumping on him, and . . . hell. I felt so sexual, and it was undeniable how much I liked the feeling.
He used his fingers to tease my nipple, while beneath me he matched my frantic thrusts. His dick drove into me at a different angle. It created a new kind of ache and a dark craving my body whispered only he could satisfy. It was all building too fast to stop, not that I wanted to now.
I gasped and panted, desperate for more but not sure how to get it. My worry was unnecessary. He’d said I was an easy read, after all. Luka must have known. His hand on my breast trailed down over my curves, coursed over my belly, and touched me. His thumb rolled circles on my clit.
“Luka,” I moaned. The leather was constricting around my throat. His control was wrapped all around me, but it added to the experience. If I wasn’t in command, I couldn’t be held responsible. I was about to come, but it was only because he demanded it, I told myself. There wasn’t guilt or shame in doing what he said, because I was only trying to survive.
“Yeah?” he said in a hurried voice. “You like that?”
My eyes fell shut. Emotion and sensation overwhelmed me. “I do.”
The tempo increased, and the sharp, repeated slap of our bodies meeting filled the room. He was like a piston between my legs, and coupled with his devious thumb, I wouldn’t last much longer.
“Put your hand on your tit. Pinch that pretty pink nipple.”
His command sent a rush through me. I palmed my breast, and pinched the distended nipple between my thumb and index finger.
“Harder. Until it hurts.” His gaze was locked on my hand. “Do it like I would, if I wasn’t playing with your pussy right now.”
I quivered. He was so filthy and unapologetic. It sent a shockwave of pleasure up me, melting my thoughts. I clamped my fingers hard, obeying his order, and it made my breast feel heavy. The focused, localized pain was enjoyable, but his thumb . . .
I’d never come with something inside me before. A few times I’d fingered myself, but it hadn’t done anything for me, so I stuck to stimulation on the outside. This felt amazing, and I was sure my orgasm was going to be huge. My hand gripped his leg and he yanked hard on the collar. I was going to lose my mind. It felt too good with his hand stirring me.
“I’m gonna come inside your tight pussy and fill you up.”
His dirty words sent me over. I cried out at the crest of my ecstasy, and moaned the whole way down. The orgasm bloomed from deep inside and traveled outward in powerful waves, rendering me immobile. Every muscle in me locked down, trembling at the assault of bliss, and finally surrendering.
Luka moaned, louder than I heard from him before, and shuddered. I’d just finished recovering when he started to come. His groan of satisfaction was loud and punctuated with labored breath.
I gasped at the rhythmic jerks inside me, followed by heat. Even though my orgasm had dissipated, this felt nice. And his expression as he came was captivating. His dark eyes were closed and his lips parted, and a vein by his temple pulsed. He looked . . . peaceful. Were these few short seconds as he came the closest to happy Luka got?
He wrapped the chain around his fist once more, brought it in front of me, and jerked me forward, crashing his lips against mine. My head was a jumble of thoughts, but he kept them isolated and quiet while his mouth was on mine.
I was still trembling as he backed me off of him. His fingers went to the padlock at the top of my spine, and a few seconds later the leather band was pulled free from my throat. I exhaled in relief, and my newly exposed skin was cold in the fresh air. His lips traced where the collar had been.
“Wasn’t that better?” he asked on a low voice as he lingered at the base of my neck.
I turned my head to the side and pressed my ear against his chest. Of course it was better—I’d allowed it this time. Maybe even more, I’d sort of wanted it. I barely said the word. “Yeah.”
“Go take a shower.” His voice was unassuming and his hand brushed along my arm. “I’ll get you some clothes and then we’ll have breakfast.”
It was all so bizarre. What we’d just done, and how comfortable he seemed to be about it. I rolled off of him, and heat creeped up in my face, annoying me. We’d just had sex, and he’d made me come. Why the hell was I still so shy?
“Your father?” I asked like a timid mouse. Luka had been awful to me, but also sometimes verging on sweet, and it was Dimitrije I feared more than the man beside me.
“No, he’s hardly ever here. He stays with the whore. They left after dinner last night.”
Luka got out of bed and then helped me to my feet. My legs were weak and uncooperative, but I managed. He stayed true to his word. Luka watched me wobble toward the bathroom, but didn’t follow, choosing instead to get dressed. It didn’t take him long. Moments after I shut the bathroom door between us, I heard the bedroom door open and close as he left.
I was empty as I stood under the stream of water from the shower. Not numb, not angry, not scared, just . . . empty. I decided to think about nothing at all, rather than analyze the last two days and how I felt about it. I focused on the menial tasks. Lather, rinse. Shut off the water. Dry your hair.
When I emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped beneath my arms, there were clothes laid out on the bed—a pair of jeans, undergarments, and a soft orange sweater. The boatneck top was older, but comfortable and flattering, and one of my favorite pieces. I dressed quickly and then eyed the doorknob.
Did he trust me somewhat, or would I find the door locked when I tried to open it? I held my breath, grasped the brass handle, and turned. Luka waited in the hall and seemed pleased to see me. He noticed the surprised expression I had, but said nothing, and nodded toward the stairs.
Every step I took beside him without running inched us closer to some sort of understanding. I sat across from him at the table in the kitchen that was once again set for us with a full spread. A lifetime had passed since the last time we’d been here.
“After breakfast,” he said, pouring me a cup of coffee, “I assume you have stuff you want to work on. Homework or whatever.”
I almost fell out of my chair. “I’m going to class tomorrow?”
His eyes clouded. “I didn’t say that.”
I made a face. “Well, what’s the point of doing it if—”
“Tell me you don’t want to do your homework.” His expression was direct. “Regardless of whether you have class. Tell me it won’t eat at you to leave it unfinished.”
I set my coffee down with force. Damn him. “Yeah, okay, it’ll make me crazy not to do it, but why does it matter?”
“Just do it, Addison,” he grumbled and turned to look out the picture window at the bright, sunny day. He frowned. His gaze turned back to me and hardened. “If it matters to you, it matters to me.”
He was so confusing, but I could tell there wasn’t anything else informative coming from him, and I couldn’t keep pushing. We ate as the conversation went silent, and the only sound was the scrape of silverware against china. It was tense, but not uncomfortable. I had a hard time starting a conversation and didn’t mind the quiet, and Luka seemed to be the same.
When we finished our meal, his gaze settled on me and his head cocked to one side.
“What?” I asked.
The corner of his mouth hinted a smile. “I like this on you.”
I glanced down, and back to him. “My sweater?”
“You wore it the first time I heard you speak. You corrected professor Kwon when he’d written the wrong variable on the whiteboard. You beat me to it.”
My heart marched along at double-time. He remembered not only the event, but what I was wearing?
Luka appeared unfazed. “Tomorrow, I have to work.” He rubbed a hand along the faint scruff on his face. “I’ll have to leave the house by seven. There’ll be someone here though, until I’m back for lunch.”
I swallowed back my mounting irritation at missing my morning lecture. It wouldn’t do any good to lose control of my emotions around him, but I still said it with my teeth clenched firmly together. “And what would you have me do tomorrow? Since I won’t be at class?”
“You need better clothes. I’ll get someone over here to fix that.”
I choked. He was going to what? “I’m sorry?”
Despite it all, his annoyed look still did something to me. It made me feel excited and eager to see the expression on the opposite end. Any hint of emotion from him was nice, but a pleased Luka was the most intriguing.
“We’ll have lunch together. If all that goes well, you’ll have further privileges.”
But he wouldn’t elaborate on them. My ingrained manners had me trying to clear my plate and set it in the kitchen sink, but Luka waved his hand, dismissing my actions.
“The housekeeper will get it.”
Housekeeper. Where, exactly, was this mystery staff? The house was immaculate, but I hadn’t seen so much as a shadow of them.
I was escorted upstairs, only this time he guided me to a new door. When he pushed it open, I sucked in a sharp breath. Luka hadn’t been lying about packing up my dorm room. It appeared to all be here in this bedroom, which looked as generic as mine was. My clothes hung in the closet. There were open boxes set on the bed and I could see my belongings in there—pictures of my family, the packet from Duke, and my used textbooks.
Luka gestured to the boxes. “Get what you need and follow me.”
I loaded my text books in my arms, only for Luka to take them from me.
When I reached for my laptop, his voice was sharp. “No.”
I froze. “I need it for online stuff.”
He shook his head. “Not today, you don’t.”
My fingertips slid over the cool metal case of my laptop, longing for everything I could access from it. I wanted more than anything to look up information on Luka Markovic, rather than figure out how to send a cry for help. How twisted was that?
I collected my planner and another book, hugging them close. My fingers curled around the bindings made me feel normal again, if only for a minute. Luka carried my books under an arm, and gestured to the hallway. This time when we descended the stairs, he turned right, and I followed him across the hardwood. We went past what seemed to be a formal sitting room, and then he pushed open a door.
There was one oversized arched window on the front wall, casting morning light across the bookshelves that lined the room. A large, ornate desk sat in the center, perched on top of an Oriental rug. It seemed to be the focal point, but my gaze went to the shelves, where books and odds and ends had been carefully displayed, even over the fireplace opposite the window.
Luka set my textbooks on a tufted couch, but I drifted to the built-in bookcase, where my attention had landed on a framed photograph.
“Your mother?” I asked before I could think better of it. The image was of an attractive brunette holding a baby, while a young boy hugged her legs. His dark hair and darker eyes were instantly recognizable, even when he was five years old.
Luka’s posture went rigid. “Yeah, that’s her.” He pointed to the couch. “You’ll do your homework here.”
His mother had a slender frame, big brown eyes, and long, sleek hair the same color as his. Her high cheekbones made her look elegant, and her bright smile announced where Vasilije’s dimple came from. The picture filled me with sadness. What had happened to her? “She was beautiful.”
Luka took in a deep breath. I wasn’t sure if he was frustrated or caught off balance by my statement, so I hurried to the couch. I sank down beside the books and grabbed my planner, not wanting to make him angry.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “She was very beautiful.”
His expression gave nothing away, but his voice . . . the hurt there was unmistakable. I desperately wanted him to tell me more, but he didn’t. His face was shuttered as he went to the desk and sat behind the computer. I had a ton of reading to do for developmental biology, so I dug the textbook out of the stack, cracked it open, and got to work, refusing to let my thoughts wander toward the man sitting across from me.
After a while, I no longer noticed the clicking of his mouse or keyboard. I retreated into the science, shutting the world out.
We fell into a strange pattern the rest of the day, working in silence in his library, largely ignoring the other person. Yet, we were still intensely aware of each other. When he got up to take a phone call in the hallway, the room became cavernous and cold.
It felt like it was simply a room, and not a space we were sharing together.
Luka was gone for a while. Was this another test? The computer was right there, and he was probably still logged on. I kept myself rooted to the couch. I’d already made my choice to play the long game with Luka. Attempting escape would only make it take longer.
When he finally reappeared, he carried drinks in one hand and balanced two plates of sandwiches on the other. Grilled chicken croissants with honey mustard dressing, which tasted amazing. “You have a personal chef,” I said, “when it’s just you here at the house?”
Luka set his napkin on the plate and pushed it aside. “Whitney only works on the weekends. She prepares everything for the week ahead.”
“Oh.” I shouldn’t have been surprised that even Luka’s meals were planned and controlled.
After lunch, he went back to the computer and I moved on to organic chemistry. The day rolled on. At one point Luka rose from the desk, opened the trunk that doubled as a coffee table in front of the couch, and retrieved a quilt. He cast it over me, and I glanced up, surprised.
“You were shivering.”
I was so busy I hadn’t even noticed until he said so. The sweater I wore wasn’t very thick, and I’d been sedentary. How did he expect me to deal with him like this? The caring action was so confusing. I curled up under the warm blanket, and struggled with what to say. “Thank you.”
He said nothing.
When my coursework was done and the sunlight was fading, I closed my book and peered at him.
He hadn’t flipped on any lights, so the room was growing dark and he was lit by the glowing computer screen. Stubble shadowed his jaw. His black eyes focused on the screen, and then he picked up a pen, scribbling something down on a pad of paper. Yet he must have sensed my gaze because his attention swung abruptly my direction.
“What do you need?”
If I’d gone back to my dorm Friday night, I would have finished polishing my secondary applications this weekend. “I have some applications I was working on.”
“For Michigan and Johns Hopkins.” His face was emotionless.
“Yeah,” I snapped. “That’s right, you know because you went through my stuff when you were packing it up.”
He sat back from the desk and quirked his eyebrow. “Some of it I did then. I finished going through the rest of it last night.”
My eyes narrowed to slits, but he kept talking.
“That’s upsetting?” he mocked. “Did I cut you with a broken piece of glass?”
My gaze dropped down to his forearm. The scratch wasn’t as red or noticeable today, but it was still there. What he’d said was true, but . . . “You’ve done worse to me.”
“Yeah. So I don’t think me reading something you’re planning to send to strangers is that big of a deal.”
It wasn’t, and yet it was. I’d put personal information in there about my vision for my future. My advisor had urged me to speak candidly about my goals. “Let them feel your passion,” she’d said. I hadn’t written the essay for Luka, and it filled me with unease to know he’d read it, which I was sure he had. I’d printed out a draft for better proofreading.
“You look fucking hot when you pout.”
My hands tensed into fists beneath the blanket, stifling back the irritation and the rush his words gave me. He was pushing my buttons on purpose.
He stood and gave me a hard look. “Again, what do you need?”
“I need to polish them and put them in the mail.”
“All right. I’ll help you get them ready and drop them off on my way to the office in the morning.”
I pushed back the blanket and rose to my feet, not wanting him to look down on me. “What’s the point if I’m not going to graduate?” In fact, Duke could rescind my acceptance if my grades slipped. Their medical school would not tolerate a senior slump.
He stared at me as if I were throwing a tantrum. “What did I tell you this morning?” He shifted his weight, and set his hands on his hips, signaling visible annoyance with me. “Does getting into med school matter to you?”
Yes, of course it mattered. He knew just how much it did. “It matters more than anything.”
“Then, guess what? It fucking matters to me.”