Any hope that a hot shower would dissolve some of the tension in my body is lost when I climb beneath the sheets. My muscles are fatigued, my eyes are heavy, and soreness has taken a stronghold over me.
The house is quiet now, and I’m left to wonder how the evening ended. It should make little difference to me, but I’m curious how Nikolai fared in the gladiator sports downstairs. Reason dictates I care only because he’s my captor and he’s in charge of my fate. But if I’m honest with myself, I know it’s more complicated than that.
I’m not left to wonder for long. When I’m on the verge of sleep, the bedroom door thunders open, and Nikolai emerges from the shadows. The light from the hallway creates a halo of orange around him, illuminating a swollen jaw and blackened eye. But it isn’t his face I’m worried about.
When I meet his gaze, an edgy, twitchy feeling crawls over me. I need to get away. Far, far away.
He stalks toward the bed, and I scramble to the other side. I’ve got one foot on the floor when his arm comes around my waist and captures me from behind. His lips ghost over my ear, breathing fire into my skin.
“Where are you going, little doll?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately seeking shelter from the storm in his. The strength I need to endure has abandoned me, and I won’t survive him this time. He’s going to wreck me.
He drags me back to the middle of the bed, immobilizing me with the weight of his body. His skin is feverish, and his breath is laced with whiskey. But it’s the tension rippling through his muscles that scares me the most.
“Perhaps you would rather go home with my brother. Is that it, pet?”
“No,” I whisper.
“You spent the evening flirting with him.” His booming voice vibrates against my chest. “So why shouldn’t I send you home with him?”
“Please.” I cling to his arms. “That isn’t what I want.”
“Guess what, kitten?” His words blow over my throat. “I don’t care what you want.”
A tear falls down my cheek, and Nikolai collects it with his tongue. His fingers take ownership of my face, and he forces intimacy by staring into my eyes.
“Tell me that you want me.”
“No.” It’s a faint protest, drowned out by his mouth crashing into mine. The first thing I taste is his blood, and the second is his whiskey.
My first kiss. He’s taken my first kiss. The shock anchors me to the bed, rendering me a prisoner to his lips. Swollen and rough, fiery and insatiable. He has the will of a fighter and the artistry of a lover. Right now, he’s both. And I’m a slave to my weakness. A slave to him. He squeezes my jaw open, and his tongue clashes with mine. It’s intimate. It’s a violation. Yet I thirst for it.
“You are my angel,” he murmurs. “And if I want, my whore too.”
My body arches against him, and my fingers tangle in his hair, wishing for the strength I don’t possess. “I hate you.”
“I think you wish that you did.” He forces his leg between my thighs.
I’m not wearing any panties, and my nightdress has migrated up over my hips during the struggle. A flush sweeps up the back of my neck and over my face as I endeavor to put myself back together again. The thought of him seeing me spread open is terrifying. Humiliating. But Nikolai doesn’t care about my modesty.
His lips are lazing over my throat now, his angry cock straining against his trousers. I’m supposed to remain pure. There was a reason, I’m certain, but I can’t think of it now. Not when he’s pawing at me, licking and biting and kissing my flesh. My nails sink into the rigid angles of his back, searching for my sanity. My breath comes in waves as I wonder if this is it. If this will be my damnation. His mouth reaches the swells of my breasts, and I stop breathing altogether.
“Fuck these tits,” he grunts as he squeezes them together between his fleshy palms. “Fuck you and your pretty little tits.”
The lashing of his tongue softens the harshness of his words when he lowers his head to suck my nipples through the silky fabric. A thousand jolts of lightning arc through me. I don’t want to want him, but he is manipulating me with his touch, his sounds, and the drugging scent of his body.
The same way he manipulated all the other women before me.
“Nikolai.” I shove him. “We can’t. I can’t. You were with her. You chose her.”
My protests stall when his fingers move between my legs and drag against my bare sex. The place no man has ever touched before. The place only my husband is supposed to touch. Logically, I know this, but I’m so wet for him that it doesn’t matter what my mind knows is best for me. My body doesn’t want what’s best for me. My body wants to lay down and sacrifice for him.
“You are mine to play with.” He pulls down the nightdress and kisses each of my breasts. “Mine to toy with. And fuck. And use. And degrade. You belong to me now, zvezda, and I’m going to let you know it.”
My head rattles against the pillow, but my protests have dried up. He’s right, and I know he’s right. He can do anything he wants to me.
To further prove his point, his hands grip the back of my thighs, pushing them up until my knees kiss my chest. Cool air passes over the most intimate part of me, and embarrassment colors my cheeks as his eyes drink me in like this. I’m on display, just like the doll he says I am. It’s lewd, and it’s dirty, and I try to squeeze my thighs back together, but they don’t budge.
“Nikolai.”
“You can call me Nikolasha,” he tells me. “Whenever I eat your pussy.”
His mouth comes down on me, and I yelp. But when I feel him bury his tongue inside me, spasms rock my body. I squirm against him, fighting for each ragged breath as he laps at me without restraint. My knees buckle, and I feel like I’m falling. I’m out of control, and I’m falling, and there’s nothing to save me.
My fingers coil in his hair, twisting with the intent of pushing him away, but instead, I pull him closer like a deviant. He kneads the flesh of my ass cheeks in his hands and drinks from my body like I’m the sweetest nectar he’s ever tasted. I’m hypnotized. Strung out. Drunk on a pleasure I never realized existed. But I know it’s a lie. I’m not the sweetest nectar he’s ever tasted. Every time my eyes fall shut, I see him with her. I see him with all the others who came before me. And I hate it. I hate him.
I tell him so.
He grunts. “You won’t hate me when your pussy is raw from my lips.”
Sharp teeth pinch the most sensitive part of my flesh, and I reflexively yank on his hair. His grip dominates me, and I am left to thrash against him as he schools me in the art of control. I claw at his arms. His shoulders. Even the back of his neck. I tell him in one breath that I hate him and beg him not to stop in the next.
None of it matters. Nikolai has his own agenda.
“You are going to come on my face,” he murmurs. “And you’ll be filthy just like me.”
I don’t want it to be true. But it is. The onslaught is sudden and explosive. With the tug of his puppet strings, the master fractures the good girl inside me. All that’s left in the wake of his devastation is a broken doll who wrings out every ounce of pleasure from his mouth before she deflates.
I’m bankrupt. Devoid of contrition as he kisses my thigh and smears the arousal from his face into my skin. Tomorrow I’ll repent, but for now, the devil’s got his grasp on me.
Nikolai unzips his pants, and my tongue darts out to wet my lips as his cock springs free. It’s a violent pulsing monstrosity. I watch his face as he strokes it in his fist. Eyes half-drunk, he soaks in the sight before him. I’m still spread wide, my sex wet and swollen and tender from him.
He edges his body between my parted thighs, and I try to squeeze them shut, but he just pries them back open. I think this is it. This is where he will ruin me. This is the moment that my life will be over.
He drags my body closer to the giant throbbing dick, and I shiver. It’s going to hurt. I might cry. I don’t know how my body will ever accommodate him. The piercing heat thrusts against my sensitive flesh, dousing his cock with my arousal. I take a breath, and the world doesn’t end.
He doesn’t violate the sacred barrier, even if I secretly wish he would. Instead, he reaches for my hand and guides it down between my legs, wrapping it around his heavy flesh. He shows me the way, teaching me how to touch him. How to grip him. How to force the sounds of agony that rip from his throat. Lusting for that power, the student quickly surpasses the teacher. The tides have changed, and now it is this savage of a man who is a slave to me.
He collapses forward, his palms coming to rest on my knees as his head falls back in a drugged daze. His hips move disjointedly, jarring his cock into the tiny opening of my fingers. He’s fucking my hand, and not my body. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because I’m in control, and he can’t stop himself.
I watch his face, cataloging every detail. The tension pulling at his drooping eyes. The five-o clock shadow feathering over his sharp cheekbones. The tousled hair that I attacked. He didn’t look this way with her. He didn’t look this way with anyone.
I’ve left my mark on him.
And now, he’s determined to leave his on me. His cock pulses, and he yanks it from my grasp, jets of hot cum spraying against my sex. I wrench at the unexpected sensation, and he offers me a lazy smile as he smears the fluid inside me with his fingers.
“What are you doing?” I demand. “You can’t do that.”
He isn’t reactive to my protests, and I’m not even sure he heard them. His eyes are dazed and heavy as he squeezes the head of his cock into my opening, seating just the tip inside.
I jolt at the foreign intrusion before falling eerily still. His skin is on my skin. His cum is inside me, and if I even breathe, he could push past the point of no return.
Murmurs of his approval rumble from his chest as he glides back and forth with the slightest of movements. It seems to go on until my lungs are about to burst, and only when his dick is soft does he pull out and tuck himself away.
“Next time, zvezda, I will empty myself inside you.”