by Coco Miller
The white double doors with gold handles open when I scan my finger again and when they open, they reveal white tile, a platform bed with black silk sheets, and a cathedral style gold foil ceiling with a stained−glass skylight above it.
I bypass the bed and head straight to the bathroom. When I see the large tub sitting in the corner, I imagine Alegra bathing with me. My cock jerks a drop of precum at the thought of her naked body anywhere near me.
And now that I know for sure she’s a virgin?
My dick jerks yet again in hungry anticipation.
Winning Alegra over is going to be tough, but in the end I’ll be victorious and it will be so worth the wait.
5
Alegra
Oh, the freaking nerve of these people!
The nerve of that man.
I cross my arms over my chest, hating and loving the way these red silk pajamas feel against my skin. In normal circumstances, I’d be insane not to like this and I’d also be insane not to love the large tub in the bathroom and the memory foam bed on top of a gothic style frame. It’s black with roses carved along the headboard.
But this isn’t normal.
While everything seems luxurious and extravagant, it doesn’t ease the knowledge of the fact that I’m being kept prisoner.
There are huge bars outside on the balcony, blocking me in like a porch but at least I get to sit outside if I want. So many emotions are bombarding me. I don’t know how to feel.
I know my father didn’t have much of a choice about this. Either die or give me away. A dark part of me thought he would die for me, that he should die for me and yet he offered but they declined.
For some reason, Kazimir really wants me here although I am incapable of understanding why at the moment.
Am I angry? Yes. Sad? Yes. Scared? Absolutely. But the two emotions I’m feeling the most are guilt and betrayal.
Not only do I feel betrayed by my father but betrayed by my body. I feel guilty because a woman in my situation shouldn’t feel attracted to the man that has kidnapped her.
Yet here I am, sitting on the bed, debating if I want to touch myself to memories of his bright, hungry eyes staring at me like I’m his last meal.
Here I am thinking about the man with the clean shaven, strong jawline who seems to be very particular about things. Yet his personality is also dangerous, prickly as a porcupine, and one I should be wary of.
So why do I find him so interesting? Why am I starting to like him? Ugh, that’s the last thing I want.
A knock at the door makes me crawl under the covers and shield myself. I tuck the sheet to my chin and watch for the door to open. I have a robe on over the silk pajamas, but I still do not want anyone seeing me wearing them.
The knock comes again and I wonder what they are waiting for. They don’t seem like the type to wait for permission.
“Alegra? Are you okay?”
It’s Kazimir.
My heart skips and I lower the sheet to my lap, holding my chin up so he doesn’t see any more fear. I steel my shoulders and prepare for a big fight. I’m not afraid to slap him again. I have never slapped someone in my life, but damn it, it felt good to have my palm against his face. He deserves it.
“Come in.” I finally find my voice.
The door swings open and I try to peek around the edge of the wall that blocks the entrance way. A cart rolls in, followed by Kazimir dressed in an impeccable suit. It’s black with no tie, and against his pale skin it looks even darker, a shade of black I have never seen before.
“Good morning,” he greets brightly.
Gah! He smiles at me, showing both dimples on either side of his cheeks looking damn delicious.
No, no, no. I don’t want to like him.
I’m such a sucker for dimples.
“Hi,” I manage to say in return.
“I brought us breakfast.”
“Us? I’m not eating with you,” I say in dismay. “You can go.” I shoo him, waving my hand toward the door. “I want nothing to do with you.”
“Your words hurt, Moya Dusha. You’ll get used to me in time but we are eating together today. Spending the night away from you was torture.”
“Seriously? Torture? Let’s talk real talk, Kazimir.”
“Okay,” he seems amused. “Let’s as you say have real talk.”
“What do you want from me? You don’t want to sell me, you don’t want to rape me, then why am I here? My father made the loan not me.”
He exhales slowly as he takes the silver tops off the plates. My stomach rumbles when I smell French Toast and bacon. There are bowls of delicious looking fruits such as grapes, watermelon, and strawberries. Coffee also lingers in the air, but I don’t see it. It must be in the silver carafe on the side.
He prepares a tray with a few slices of French Toast, tops it with powdered sugar and syrup. He places a few pieces of fruit on the side and then fixes me a cup of coffee.
Three creams and a teaspoon of sugar.
How the hell does he know I prefer that?
Kazimir sets the tray on my lap and begins to make his own plate. I’m stunned to silence. It smells delicious but there’s no way that I am going to eat first. I want to make sure the food or the coffee isn’t poisoned.
“You are mistaken if you think that I don’t want to have sex with you.”
He cuts a piece of French Toast and dips it in the syrup. The maple goodness makes his lips shine and his tongue flicks to gather it up. I shouldn’t be so turned on by his mouth, but I am. His jaw ticks as he chews. He washes it down with a sip of coffee and dabs his lips like a well−mannered gentleman.
I have a suspicion he is anything but.
“I want nothing more than to bend you over this bed and slide my cock inside you and let you experience how good we will be together, but I need to gain your trust first. There will be no rape.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and reach for my coffee when my hand knocks it over. Hot java spreads everywhere, but stays within the edges of the tray.
“Are you okay?” he takes the tray off my lap quickly. “Did it burn you?” He flips my hands over to study them and sighs when he sees I came out unscathed.
My clit is throbbing from his provocative words, but that’s just a normal body response after hearing filth like that from a man that looks like Kazimir.
“Why do you care?” My voice comes out breathy as I try to get a hold of myself.
He is the enemy, Alegra.
I don’t want anything to do with him.
Yeah, I just need to keep telling myself that and maybe I’ll believe it.
He kisses my fingertips and lays them gently on my lap. Then he picks up the silver fork and knife, his strong thick hands hold the silverware delicately, and all I can imagine is him holding me like that. Firm but with care.
Maybe I’m getting Stockholm Syndrome. It isn’t normal to lust after a man that has practically kidnapped you.
Kazimir cuts into the French Toast and syrup falls over the edge of the plate. He swirls the maple with the cinnamon infused bread and lifts it to my lips.
“Open.”
My mouth parts on his command and I want to curse myself. I need to be protesting, not doing what he says, but I’m hungry and the breakfast smells good.
I wrap my lips around the fork and his nostrils flare as I pull the bread off and start to chew.
Is he really turned on by me? Impossible. This is just a power play.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I say, popping a grape in my mouth after I swallow the French Toast.
He contemplates and lifts the small teacup full of coffee to his lips. Kazimir really is a handsome man. All strong lines around his jaw, an interesting crooked nose that isn’t too big or small, but sturdy like the rest of him. But it’s his eyes that get me most. While his father’s are cold and calculated, Kazimir’s hold something other than a deep freeze. I’m not sure what it is. The only way I can explain it is, it looks like
he wants more. More of what I haven’t figured out yet.
“Why do I care about your safety?” He dabs his mouth with the cloth napkin.
“Yeah.” I bring my legs up and cross them and my robe comes undone, showing the silk pajamas I’m wearing. Pajamas that other captives have probably worn. “Seeing as how you took me against my will.”
“I took what was owed to me, that’s the difference.”
His eyes fall on the pajamas and his lips twitch. His top lip is thinner than the bottom, appearing firm. Making think about what’s his kiss might be like. Is it strong and possessive? Or soft and demanding?
Wait, why am I thinking that?
Bad, Alegra.
“A human being is not something someone can just decide they are owed. I am not a possession.”
“You are mine.”
“I belong to no one. Least of all you.”
He launches forward and takes my chin his hand, squeezing tight to make his point. I like it, I realize. I like the force he is using and evidently so does my body. Maybe that’s why I keep pushing him to react.
I’m definitely losing it.
“Make no mistake, Moya Dusha, you are mine. You belong to me, and you’ve been mine for a while now. I’ve always cared about your safety.”
He leans in closer, so close I can smell the coffee and maple on his breath. It’s intoxicating. My eyelids flutter shut when I feel his lips almost touch mine.
The electricity between us stuns me.
The hot puffs of his breath tickle my lips.
And yet, he stays in control and never steals a kiss. Which is surprising since he stole me.
“From the moment I saw you, I knew you were mine, Alegra.”
“You only saw me yesterday.”
I finally gather the courage to open my eyes and what I see nearly has me closing the distance between us. He is so close. I can smell the shampoo he used this morning.
His eyes are locked on my lips and his tongue is flicking out, wetting the bottom pout.
Kiss me, already.
That mouth of his kicks up in a wicked sly grin.
“No, Alegra, I’ve been watching you for a while now. Ever since your father got into business with us. The family makes sure that we know every aspect of the people who owe us money, and when I saw you…” He shutters and closes his eyes, reliving the memory.
“The moment I saw you, I just knew. You were wearing this light blue shirt and black skinny jeans that hugged you in all the right places, and I just knew I had to have you, anyway I could get you.”
“I haven’t worn those jeans in months,” I say flabbergasted by his stalkerish ways.
“I’ve been watching you for an entire year,” he says without a hint of shame.
“A year!”
I think back to all the times I felt watched but never saw anyone. My instincts told me someone was there, and after a while I ignored the feeling in my gut, thinking I was paranoid or overreacting. But I was right the whole time. Kazimir was watching.
“That’s right. An entire year.”
“Why not just ask me out? This is a bit extreme,” I say, not meaning to sound so turned on. My voice is husky and my skin is overly sensitive.
I think he knows.
He drags his fingertips from my jaw and down my neck. The rough pads of his fingers elicit a soft moan from my lips as his eyes marvel at what they see when he touches me.
“You’re too good for a man like me. You would have said no when you saw me. It is pretty obvious that I’m a dangerous man. You would have known that as soon as I approached you.”
“So instead of trying your luck, you take advantage of my father’s desperation and then steal me?”
“Yes, then you couldn’t have rejected me.” He glides his fingers over my collarbone and traces the delicate ridge. “I would have been devastated and angry by your rejection, and I might have taken you away in the end, anyway.”
I swallow the salvia that’s gathered in my mouth to try and coat my dry throat.
“That’s not how rejection works, Kazimir.”
His eyes shutter close in approval for a moment. I think I may have addressed him by his name for the first time and he likes it.
I shouldn’t have done that.
“Like I said, I don’t handle rejection well,” he says, sliding his finger between the valley of my breasts. “You’re so soft.” He admires. “I love the feel of your skin.”
I don’t say a word as he continues his exploration of my skin. Any fear I feel dissipates as he continues to methodically stroke me. A burning liquid starts to pools in my panties.
He continues on with his simple touching and yet, he doesn’t kiss me. It’s torture. I want to hate him more now because while I know this is wrong, it feels so deliciously right.
I’m starting to think that something that feels this good, something so easy, can’t be all bad.
Can it?
6
Kazimir
She’s killing me.
The touch of her silky skin beneath my fingertips is everything I’ve dreamed of and more. The way her chest is rising and falling in rapid beats gives me hope that she too can feel this once in a lifetime connection between us.
It’s universally changing me. I feel like a totally new man having her here and she hasn’t even given into me yet but I know that she wants to. She has not fought me this morning, but rather she is fighting herself. I take great pleasure in knowing that I’ll be her downfall, just like she is mine.
I want to kiss her so badly right now. Just a kiss. Nothing more. I don’t want to spook her, but I can tell both of us are needing it, yearning for it and desiring it.
I usually have any woman I want. They never deny me as Alegra has. Her strong will is an aphrodisiac to me. I truly believe behind every man, stands a stronger woman, and Alegra will certainly need that strength when she takes that stance.
“Kazimir.”
She says my name again without hate but with lust, and the seed swollen orbs hanging between my legs pull tight as I hear her desperate plea.
I dip my finger lower, between the crease of the camisole she is wearing that I bought specially for her, and feel the large curve of her breast against me.
So fucking soft.
Her nipples are hard and poking through the silk, telling me they are needy for my attention. I slide my finger to the right, keeping my hand above her shirt because if I actually touch her bare tit with my hand, knead it, and caress it the way I want before she is ready, I’ll never forgive myself.
I pluck the bead between my fingers and roll it, feeling the tightened bud give with the pressure I put on to it. She groans, tossing her head in pleasure.
Fucking beautiful.
My cock is as hard as stone, pulsing, throbbing for release, but I hold back. I know the wait will be worth it with Alegra. She’s only been here a day and she is already warming up to the idea of me, the idea of us.
I place my nose in the crook of her neck and inhale. I release a strangled breath as the scent of coconut and vanilla tease my orgasm. I could come right now and have no shame.
The want I have for her is all too much, it’s unhealthy, maddening, and debilitating. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love being on the exhilarating cliff of insanity.
Against the pulse of her throat, I massage my lips against her skin. Her hands are at her side, fisting the sheets, fighting the urge to touch me. Her knuckles turn a lighter shade of brown as she denies herself to fulfill the need swirling inside her.
Kissing her throat, I make my way up the column of her neck, smelling and enjoying the beauty in my hands. She’s a delicate flower, a bouquet that deserves to be handled with absolute care.
I pepper kisses along her jaw and the new position has her lips near my ear. I hear every pant, and every small whimper that leaves her that tells me that a tiny bit of her resolve is fleeting.
I’ll break her down eventually but t
here’s no rush. All we have is time.
I nibble on her earlobe and her body turns into a quaking mess. I love her response to me, so sensitive, so quick. I bet I can make her come just like this, teasing her body with my mouth and hands.
“Have you ever kissed a man before, Moya Dusha?” I ask her, hoping that the answer is no.
I’m not afraid to go out and kill all the men that have ever touched her. I don’t care that they were before me. No one should be before me, and no one will be after. That’s for damn sure.
“What’s that mean?” She asks breathily. “Moya Dusha?”
Her skin is hot to the touch and a bead of sweat drips down her temple. I lick it up greedily, loving the salty goodness on my tongue as it seeps into my body, mixing with my DNA.
“You’ll know soon enough. Answer me,” I say, tugging on some of her hair. Her hair is styled in a cute pixie cut that compliments her bone structure.
She licks her lips, eye glazed over from the lust and desire swirling between us.
“What was the question?”
I grin. “Have.” I place a kiss on her cheek. “You.” Her nose. “Ever.” Forehead. “Kissed.” Other cheek. “A man before?”
I hover my lips right over hers, keeping my hand buried in the thick of her black mane.
She shakes her head, her pink tongue flicking out and nearly touching my bottom lip.
“No, never. I’ve never…” She swallows the lump in her throat. “I’ve never done anything with a man.”
A virgin in every sense of the word.
Perfection.
“My sweet Alegra, where have you been all my life?” I whisper in awe, slowly lowering my mouth to hers.
She stiffens against me, not kissing me back at first since she has no idea what to do. That’s okay. I’ll guide her. I’ll always guide her. I open my mouth and pry hers open, dipping my tongue between the uncertain lips.
Alegra relaxes and when she gasps at the feel of my tongue, she kisses me back. She’s unsure at first, moving her lips as I move mine, but after a few minutes she becomes confident and slides her arms around my neck.
