She grinned, feeling less ashamed of that than she ever had before.
An ethereal melody floated toward her as she descended the stairs. She couldn’t place the song, but it sounded as if it should be the theme song of a dark fairytale. It seemed fitting.
The table was round with five chairs, all of them occupied save for one. She entered, and they all stood, a reverent gesture that was as much a surprise as the smallish round table in such a grand room. Samantha placed her hands on either side of the free chair to pull it out. Oleg reached out and stilled her motions.
“No.” He held his hand out for her to take it and guided her to step onto the chair instead. Then he encouraged her onto the table. “That is Alexander’s chair.”
“Oh. Right,” she said.
“All fours,” he stated. “Please.”
Samantha thought the please was odd as well. “Yes, Master.”
Oleg frowned slightly. “We’ve decided that you will not call any of us Master until you feel it is the only title that fits.”
“Why?”
He reached up to touch her face with one hand and caressed her cheek. With the other hand, he raised a forkful of cassoulet to her lips. His hazel eyes offered endless wells of sincerity that touched a deep place inside of her she didn’t know was there. If she never ate another bite of food that wasn’t from his hand, she’d be satisfied.
“Because a title that isn’t earned isn’t worth having, and none of us have learned to Master you yet.”
“So the teachers have something to learn as well?” She smiled at that and took another bite.
“So it seems,” he said. “We are going to begin again.”
“Hello, I’m Samantha,” she said.
His luscious mouth formed a gentle smile, as if the sentiment behind that smile had stowed away on his lips without permission. “No, you are my little lion, my lionceau, because that is what fits.”
“A better fit than Kitten?”
“Let me see your teeth,” he said.
She bared them to him, feeling a little playful and very obedient.
“Let me hear you growl,” he said.
She summoned her lowest register and brought her fiercest growl, feeling frisky and playful. She hadn’t quite finished when a warm, soft and wet tongue swept slowly over her exposed labia. Her growl was interrupted with a sharp intake of breath.
Oleg held her jaw in his grasp. “Let me hear you purr, Lionceau.”
Another lick sent a shiver over her, and her fingernails scratched the wood table. Hands were laid flat on her ass cheeks and spread her wider, and there was another lick. She didn’t know who it was. Henri had been sitting opposite Oleg, but was it his hot, torturous tongue savoring each languid swipe of every electrified inch of her cunt? Were those his hands spreading her open? A finger dipped inside, then another. Were they of the same hand?
Oleg placed another forkful onto her tongue, and she chewed the soft casserole. He placed a small kiss at the corner of her mouth as she did. She moaned softly, the sound easing forth with no intention to obey or impress. She moaned for the sensations overtaking her.
A kiss landed at the small of her back. Fingers found her clit and staked new claim on her pleasure. She swallowed and moaned again, and Oleg gifted another bite of buttery deliciousness. She chewed, and her ass accepted something warm, slippery and hard like steel.
“What’s…?”
Oleg shook his head, filled her mouth again. “Purr, Lionceau.”
The table rocked a bit, and a plate crashed to the floor. She felt the brush of fabric pass her inner thighs and the tickle of hair on her lower stomach. Another hot tongue now flicked her clit along with the one intent at her channel.
“Oh…” The breathy word culminated in a whimper.
Oleg held up a thin black device. He handed it to Henri, and the heavy metal plug in her ass began to vibrate.
Henri came to her side. “I thought you were beautiful in your corset, but this…” He pulled her hair away from her face. “You could never be more broken than you are right now.”
“Broken by pleasure,” Oleg said.
“Built up by pain,” Henri added. “Such a puzzle.”
A beard scraped her cunt, and she knew it was Ivan laving her clit, leaving Paolo to plunder her pussy with his tongue.
Oleg leaned into her ear. “I want you in pieces, Lionceau.”
A low rumble was born in her throat as her whole body shook with the promise of orgasm. She thundered for Paolo and Ivan, crumpled for Henri, and without regard for winning this game, she purred for Oleg.
“Good girl.”
She was close, so very close to climaxing in a way she’d never experienced. Samantha purred and panted and smashed her eyes shut.
Oleg kissed her forehead. “Do you feel the light on your skin?”
Did he expect her to speak? Her skin was electrified with the light. She was a ball of melting wax under their heated attention, and if this was what the light was like, she’d do anything to bathe in it every day for the rest of her life, or at least until this upside-down fairytale came to an end. And of course, it would end, because no one’s reality was this much fun.
She could only nod her head, her mouth falling open, and her body trembling as her orgasm began to take hold. Then everything stopped.
“You wield your submission like a weapon,” Oleg said, wiping her mouth with his linen napkin.
She began to protest. “I didn’t try…”
“Whether you mean to be or not, you are a thief stealing away pieces of us all.” He folded his napkin, placed it on the table and stood up from his chair. “But I know how to steal too, Lionceau, and now your pleasure belongs to me.”
Chapter 20
“Please…don’t stop… I need… God… Please…”
Had Oleg ever wanted a woman to be his as much before? There was a clear answer to that question. Not even close. She was pleading, begging for him to allow her to climax, and as usual with this woman, he wanted to give her everything. He’d die to see her tourmaline eyes go round with awe before she was forced to close them as every last sensation overcame her. He could utter a few scant words, and his brothers would bring her to the point where her pretty face crumpled and her shaky arms lost the battle to keep her from melting into the table.
But, no. She needed a lesson.
He stepped to her side, reached one strong arm around her waist and plucked her from the table like a bushel of wheat. Her feet landed to the floor with a thud. Then he grasped her wrists in his one large hand and marched her toward the door. Henri handed him the box he’d left on the buffet just before they left the room. The tiny pinch in her forehead begged for an explanation for their sudden exit. He wanted to reassure her, to answer the hope in her eyes as they climbed the stairs.
Once in her room again, he dropped her wrists, and she turned to face him. He hesitated then, held hostage with the thought of throwing her onto the bed and easing between her upturned legs, giving in to the pleas in her eyes and the ones echoing in his chest even stronger than from between his legs. Yes, the rules were all backward in this game.
“This will only take about an hour to get used to,” he said, setting the box on her bedside table.
Her eyes widened the moment he removed the lid. He’d be lying if he said the shock on her face didn’t please him.
“Is that…”
“A chastity belt. Yes. It’s surgical stainless steel but also entirely lined with cushioned vinyl. The only discomfort you should feel is frustration over your empty cunt.”
“Please, no,” she said and squeezed her eyes shut. When they opened again, they were full of tears. “Don’t.”
Oleg had removed the device but stopped cold. The fat droplets clinging to the rim of her eyelids couldn’t speak for her. He needed to know the meaning behind them. “Samantha, speak your safeword if that is what you really mean.”
She turned her head, removing her teary
gaze and aiming it at the door. Her pretty face crumpled just a little more. “Why do we have to stop? I did everything you wanted.”
He understood then. “You did, and you should know that you haven’t disappointed me.” In truth, the kernel of pride in his heart was like a pebble stow-away, a niggling annoyance of how she’d taken up unwanted residence there. “But you did everything I asked because it served you. Now you will wear this even though it doesn’t. That is true submission, Lionceau, not the power games you’ve been playing.”
“But who even wins this game? I know you want me. You can’t hide that from me.” She reached for his painfully hard cock as it pressed against his zipper. He caught her hand.
Samantha pouted with her need to call herself victorious. Even the water pooling in her eyes couldn’t put out the fire that blazed in her glare. He opened the latch and directed her with only his gaze. He didn’t ask, he expected. He didn’t force, he directed. She didn’t hesitate, she reacted. With her chin tucked and tears streaming down her cheeks, she stepped into the modern version of a very old device.
“I do want you. Like no other woman I’ve ever come across,” Oleg said. He placed a finger under her chin, raising it just as a fat tear dropped and splashed onto his shoe. “But I want your submission even more.” He affixed the lock and turned to leave the room then, before he changed his mind.
“Wait!”
There was panic in her voice. Oleg turned around. She was on her knees in the middle of the bed, her hands resting on her thighs, her eyes wet with the frayed edges of pride.
“I know we won’t have sex, but please stay with me tonight anyway.”
Could he really deny her this request? Could he deny himself? His willpower was as frayed as her pride. He shook his head, his hand already leaving the door knob. “This isn’t the time.”
“I just don’t want to be alone in here. I can play your games. I’m learning to play them, learning to obey your rules. I will do everything you ask. But…”
Her eyelashes fluttered as her gaze skittered away from him. Her still dewed skin bloomed with patches of rouge. She’d been so perfectly shameless until now. What could embarrass her so?
He turned toward her, keeping his voice steady and stern. “What is it, Lionceau?”
“When I’m locked up in here, it’s as if I’m invisible.”
Oleg smirked. “Attention wh—
“Please don’t call me that.”
Her head dipped in the most uncharacteristic way. He’d been wrong. Pleasure didn’t break her. Isolation did.
“I’ll stay,” he said, knowing what a stupid idea it was to indulge her. He quickly amended his statement, probably more for himself than for her. “Until you fall asleep.”
The way her face lit for him made him think the world could be a hopeful place. She could make the world a hopeful place. He sat on the bed.
“Will you undress?” she asked. “May I please feel your skin on mine?”
He regarded her suspiciously, discerning her motives. But it wasn’t a seductress looking at him with pleading eyes. He saw the stark face of her needful soul.
He hadn’t wanted to give anything to anyone in as long as he could remember. In his world, he took what he wanted, whether through force or cunning, whether for business or for pleasure. But he wanted this, and wanting was also something he rarely ever did. Not like this. This want inside of him felt too much like control, too much like something attached to him, like something that would hurt if it was removed. He wanted to give her the comfort of his body against hers. He wanted the comfort of her in his arms. Beneath all that was the wanting of what that meant. It was the threat of permanency. He wanted more than her submission. He wanted to feel connected to her. Once again, he’d been topped by a little lioness whose roar was like a tuning fork for his heart.
Damn her.
He didn’t waste time arguing. He’d already admitted the rules were upside down, and it had been a very long day. He wanted to climb into that bed and…
And what?
And just be a man. Not a Dom. Not a club owner. Not a Balashov. He’d give all of that up for a night to just be a man with a woman he couldn’t stop thinking about.
Oleg plucked at the buttons on his shirt and pulled it from his shoulders as the ugliness of his day was shed away along with it. He was still semi-hard from the events during dinner and starving for something more than food. Another erection brewed with just the thought of her supple, nude frame pressed against him. Yet she was right. They weren’t going to have sex. He’d make her wait for his cock, hear her beg some more for it, have her so delirious with desire that she’d hardly recognize the person she’d become. All the while, he’d prove to himself that he had the discipline to deprive her in the face of his need, which as each minute ticked by, seemed more and more of a feat.
Upside fucking down.
She watched him intently, her eyes thirsty for every inch of skin he bared. He turned for her, knowing that what she required most was to look at the wings on his back.
“Dark angel,” she whispered.
He wondered if she’d meant him to hear her call him that. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear her meaning. Something in her tone knocked that pebble around in his heart. With no words for the accusation, he only continued to undress.
Nudity had never humbled him. His body was more godlike than angelic, and it wasn’t by accident. But bared to her, he felt the ground level-off between them. This was different. Somewhere along the way, this baby sub had earned his respect, and he suspected she knew the chastity belt was for both of them.
“Under the covers,” he directed.
She grinned, wide-mouthed, and scooted into bed.
It felt like a fucking slumber party, and he didn’t even mind. He slid into bed next to her and exhaled every trying thought he’d been carrying with him like a sack of bricks since the morning. The space next to her felt as if it had been waiting for him all this time.
She shifted to face him. “Thank you,” she said with all the humility he’d never possess.
He nodded, holding his tongue to thank her back.
She’d revealed something to him about what made her tick. He’d been trying to make heads or tails of that puzzle since he first laid eyes on her in the club. “Why did it bother you so much when I called you an attention—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips.
He mouthed the word against the creases of her knuckles. “Whore.”
Her crystal-blue eyes blazed back at him. “Because…it’s true.” Her wavering voice dimmed just as her eyelids cast her eyes in shade.
Oleg dipped his head, finding her gaze and drawing her irises back to his. “Never hide from who you are, Lionceau. Especially not here in my home.”
“I’m not proud of it.”
“Why not? I think you earn all the attention you get, one way or another.”
“I don’t mean to…”
“Liar.” He matched her glare. “Don’t lie to me.” He pulled her close against him. His cock nudged at the cold steel of her caged sex. Good, he needed a reminder of the limits he’d set. “You mean every single thing you do.”
“I can’t stop myself,” she said instead.
“Better,” he said.
“I’m the least interesting person in my family. If I don’t raise a little hell sometimes, they’ll forget I even exist.”
Oleg found that entertaining, though he didn’t let her see the smile he felt in his chest. “If you’re the least interesting person in your family, I’m almost afraid to meet any of the rest of them.”
Her eyes became deep pools of disbelief. “You’d want to meet my family?”
Why had he said that? His mouth hadn’t revealed his smile, and yet his lips spoke words that surprised even himself. He shook his head, and this time, he placed an intentionally glib smirk on full display. “I want to meet your family as much as I want you to meet mine.”
She di
dn’t pout as he’d expected she would. She grinned. “You see. We have lots in common.”
He eyed her then. She certainly had his attention, which he’d come to know was what she craved. If she craved what he seemed compelled to give, didn’t they have the most important thing in common? He scoffed and turned onto his back. What was he even doing in the bed with her while not fucking her?
It was the same reason he’d been drawn to the café near her campus, and the reason he hadn’t turned her away when she showed up on his doorstep. She intrigued him in a manner that was more than sexual, meant more than domination. Each day, she proved even more of an enigma than the day before as she surprised him and seemed to surprise herself at the same time. There were surprises around every corner.
“But seriously, I don’t see you as someone who suffers from low self-esteem.”
Unmeasured (Unmatched Book 1) Page 17
