by Jane Henry
It’s harder keeping my wrists secured when they aren’t shackled in his grip. I keep them in place with difficulty. I want to hold him. Touch him. But he controls this, and I love that he does.
He’s exploring my breasts now, weighing their fullness in his hands before flicking a thumb across one hardened nipple, then the other. I moan when he does that, electric thrills slicing through me. With a hungry growl, he brings himself lower still and captures my hardened nipple between his lips. He sucks, and I shatter.
The feeling is unlike anything I’ve experienced before, so intensely erotic and intimate I’m whimpering with the need for him to put pressure between my legs. He doesn’t stop, but continues the onslaught, lashing his tongue against my nipple while he fondles my other breast. Teeth and tongue, suckling and lapping. I can’t breathe, my body so taut it’s ready to snap into bliss. But he isn’t done yet. Not by a long shot. The blissful torment goes on for so long I close my eyes and welcome the darkness. He moves his mouth to my second breast, covering the first with the heat of his palm. Priming me until I’m ready to fly.
Sliding down the bed lower still, he glides his hands under my back and lifts my belly to his mouth, licking my belly button. I shiver and squirm, while he kisses his way lower, to the soft, tender skin between my pussy and belly, his mouth so soft and his whiskers rough, his fingers digging into my back to hold me in place. He trails his tongue down to the top of my pussy. I throb, my core contracting with his hot breath on my naked skin.
I know where he’s going and it makes me nervous. No one’s ever been down there before.
Do you trust him? I ask myself.
Yes, of course.
Then the answer is easy. If I trust him, I let him do this. I give him control over so much, allowing him to bring me pleasure is no different.
He isn’t ready yet, though. Not yet. First, he has to torture me a bit more.
Spreading my knees apart, he inhales deeply. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. It’s so dirty, but I can’t help feeling even more turned on than before. He’s savoring this, my scent and taste and feel in his hands. And I would never take that away from him. I want to speak to him so badly, I bite my tongue to keep my mouth silent. He implied he’d punish me if I spoke, but that isn’t why I stay quiet. I don’t want to break this spell.
He glides his hands beneath my ass and lifts my pelvis upward, taking in another deep breath. He groans and swallows, then licks the inside of my thigh. I’m shaking with need, wetness growing between my legs. If he touched me now I’d be soaking, and I swear my skin throbs in anticipation.
Pursing his lips, he blows hot air on my bare pussy. I tremble. My fingers clench into fists, but I don’t move my hands. I’m determined to obey him. Determined to earn his approval and if I’m lucky, the coveted title: good girl.
Again, he blows, and again, I tremble. His eyes come to mine as he lowers his mouth. He wants me to watch him lick me. I feel shy and reserved and excited all at once. I nod.
The first lazy drag of his tongue makes me moan in uncensored bliss. Oh, Jesus, oh fucking hell, I’ve been dying for release and this both grants and denies it, because every swipe of his tongue brings both bliss and the desire for more. God, more.
His eyes on mine, he suckles, pulling my clit fully into his mouth, My eyes flutter shut and I’m losing myself to sensation. He works me soft then hard, his fingers probing my core and gently pumping in and out. I’m pressing myself to his face, unabashedly begging for more of his tongue. He’s chuckling into my pussy, the hot vibration making me clench with need. On and on he licks and suckles until I hit a crescendo I didn’t know existed. I’m dying and soaring under his tongue, spasms of pleasure rippling through me like white-foamed rapids, powerful and all-consuming. I’m moaning and whimpering, dying to speak or move but succumbing to his commands. I climax until I can’t breathe anymore, until my body is wrung out with pleasure, and when I finally fall back to earth, his cock is at my center.
Gentle at first. Parting me. He guides his cock through my wetness, but doesn’t plunge himself in. He’s shaking with the effort of controlling himself, and I want to reach for him and impale myself on his cock. My core tightens and contracts with the need to be filled by him, but it has to be on his terms.
It will hurt. His eyes meet mine in anticipation and apology. He’s done what he can, making me climax before he takes me. I can feel my slickness between my thighs, and I know it should help. I’ve heard it does, anyway.
He shakes as he lowers himself to me, our chests connecting skin to skin, before he pushes the tip of his cock inside me. I brace. He’s only just begun, and he’s so big. He holds himself over me, then brings his mouth to my cheek and brushes a kiss there, before he glides a little deeper inside.
My hands encircle his neck.
I trust you.
He holds me back and pushes himself in me.
He’s stretching me until I’m so full it hurts. He pulses in me, but holds himself back, slowly building a rhythm of pleasure and pain, my too-tight skin yielding to him. The friction stings, but when he moves his hips I lift my pelvis for more. I longed to have him in me. I thought it would feel incredible. I wasn’t wrong.
He’s laid me bare and now he claims me as his. In and out, harder and faster, then gentler still, he works me closer to another climax as he groans in my ear. Aw, fuck. He enjoys this as much as I do, and I want to give it all to him. Every damn last bit of what little remains of my innocence.
I expected I’d feel when he broke my barrier. I expected a gush of blood and stained sheets. But he’s eased himself in me so carefully, my only feeling is of utter completion, like we belong fitted together like this. I anchor myself to his neck as he pumps in and out, so full, so perfect. I’m building again, so close to another climax, when he groans and jerks in me. I hold onto him so tightly but it isn’t close enough, as I fall off the edge into utter ecstasy. I cry out when spasms wrack my body. He’s kissing me and holding me and right then, everything is utter perfection. Our sweat-soaked skin and heated bodies, joined in ultimate surrender.
We’re panting when he drops his forehead to my chest. I rest my hands on the wide expanse of his back, holding him as he holds me. I breathe in and out, and he does, too. Perfect moments come swiftly and leave in a heartbeat. We ride this one out until our pulses slow. With a sigh, he pulls out of me, rolls to his side, then yanks me up onto his chest. It’s messy and sweaty, our juices mingling in tangled sheets, my hair a wild mess. But it’s everything.
He plays with a tendril of my hair, wrapping it around his finger.
“Zvezda moya,” he says. “My shining star.”
I smile. I like that.
After a moment he grows contemplative. “You could get pregnant,” he says.
“I could. Could that pose a problem?” I’m not scared of it, though. This is Nicolai.
“Or a solution,” he supplies.
I give him a curious look.
“Some Bratva groups treat childbirth as sacred. They would do nothing to separate us if you were pregnant.” He takes my fingers to his mouth and kisses them gently. “It was my pakhan’s wish that I have you. A reward, if you will. And if a baby comes of it, then…” his voice trails off.
“Were you planning this?” It surprises me. I would have liked to be asked first.
“Planning it?” he repeats. “It seemed pretty clear to me it was what we both wanted.”
“But you said nothing about a baby.”
“And you said nothing about birth control.”
“I wasn’t permitted to speak!”
He pauses. “Do you object, then?”
I imagine a mini Nicolai, with his vivid blue eyes and crooked mouth. And better still, I imagine Nicolai as a daddy. Holding our baby to his chest.
“No,” I breathe. I’m suddenly enamored with the idea of a child with him. He chuckles.
“Well, then, we will see.”
I look out the little w
indow, surprised to see it’s a little bluish.
“What time is it?” I ask.
He kisses the tips of my fingers again before replying. “Time for us to make another appearance.”
Chapter 16
Nicolai
She’s given me the most precious gift: her innocence and trust. Marissa and I have fought long and hard for this, but it’s still something I need to treasure. Against all odds, I claimed her virginity. And no matter what happens next, that matters.
“I love you,” I tell her one last time before I push myself out of bed.
“And I love you,” she says, her eyes filled with trust and hope as I walk to the bathroom to clean us up. There isn’t much else to say. We need to pick up our roles again, convince everyone of who we are. We need to make it back to Boston and prove to the men there that she is my slave and I her master. If I’m just the transport guy, it won’t matter too much. But if she’s grown close to me, and we prove to anyone who looks our way that we belong together…
I’m growing sentimental, and it will not do.
I grab a towel and washcloth, lather it with warm, soapy water, and return to her. Her hair is beautifully tousled, her cheeks flushed with color, and I’m pleased to see the pink marks I’ve left all along her neck and collarbone. They’ll show when we’re around the others, proving my ownership of her.
And if I put a baby in her… Khristos, it’s risky, but if it happens, it could work very much in our favor. I can’t think much beyond what we’d do if we had a baby. So much is left to the unknown, though. What if Tomas decides he wants to claim her? If he’s had me fetch her, only to make her his?
I will find a way to escape. To keep her. To prove to anyone that comes within ten feet of us that we belong together.
I kneel beside her on the bed and clean her, towel drying her off before I reach for her clothing. I can’t wait to see her in regular clothes again. I’ll burn this fucking sheath, and with it the memory of her captivity.
After a time, I bring her out for an early dinner. Erik and Yakov are both in the dining area but seated separately. This time when I bring her out, the pink marks on her neck and chest show vividly against her pale, creamy white skin. Yakov smiles approvingly, and even Erik gives me a lewd grin. When we finish, Erik walks past me and bumps my fist. He approves. He’s still a bastard.
“Too bad she isn’t yours to keep,” he says, before he drags his woman back with him.
Marissa’s gaze widens and she looks at me in shock.
“What did he say?” she asks.
I swallow hard. We haven’t discussed this. “He said it’s too bad you aren’t mine to keep.”
Her pale skin grows even paler. “What does that mean?” she whispers.
I clear my throat and finish my drink before I reply. “I’ve come to fetch you as a tribute for entry into the brotherhood,” I tell her. It’s as much as I can tell her in public like this, anyway. She holds my gaze. I suspect she has many questions to ask, but can’t risk any of them being overheard.
“What happens when we arrive?” she finally asks, her voice so soft it’s practically a whisper.
“I don’t know,” I tell her truthfully. I reach for her hand. “But I have a suspicion, and—” I realize the man beside us is watching us, and likely hearing every word we say. I squeeze her hand and assume the role of master once more. “The only thing you need to worry about is your obedience to me. Do you understand?”
If she follows my lead, and puts her trust in me, I will do everything in my power to keep her safe. She holds my gaze for long minutes before she replies. Nodding, she bows her head. “Yes, sir.”
I reach for her hand and squeeze it. There are so many other things I wish to say, but not here. Not now.
I take her back to the room and make love to her again, as slow and steady as before, but this time the union is even sweeter. After we make love, I pull her onto my chest.
I want to claim her body and leave my mark. Fuck her. Fucking own her. But not now. It’s too soon. She’s too young, too fragile.
So young.
My conscience plagues me. Marissa has her whole life ahead of her. Who am I to take that from her? Once I free her from this, from all ties to the Bratva and the captivity she’s endured, she could live her life unencumbered with a much older man like me. I come with baggage and the weight of the life I’ve lived.
“What are you thinking?” she says softly. I can’t tell her. Not if we’re going to keep our cover.
I smile slowly at her. “That I can’t wait to fuck you.”
She captures her lips between her teeth. “You just did.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “I made love to you, zvezda moya. That is very, very different.”
“The, um, movements are the same?” she offers helpfully. That makes me laugh out loud and hell, it feels good to do that.
“You will see.”
She falls asleep tucked up onto my chest with a smile on her lips. I hold her, and wish I could hold her forever. I wish I could erase what lurks in every corner. I could secret her away to the furthest corner of the earth and they could still find her. And no logical argument prevails. She was sold, for a price, the price her father likely had to pay. I paid that price. What happens to her next doesn’t matter.
But the Boston Bratva may think otherwise.
Soon, she falls asleep, but I can’t. I go over every scenario in my mind, some that could possibly work, and some that border on the insane. But in the end, I come back with the same conclusion I have since the very beginning.
I can’t run from this danger.
I need to confront it head on.
When the fingertips of sunrise begin to creep beneath the window covering, I fall into a brief and restless sleep. I wake with her curled up on me, her knee crooked up and her hair spread out on my chest. I bend down and kiss the top of her head.
“You awake?” she asks.
“I am. Are you?”
She giggles. God, it’s the cutest thing. But I quickly sober. Today is the day.
“You’ll have to be on your best behavior today. If anyone suspects you aren’t well-trained, it puts us at risk.”
She sighs. “I will, sir.” But there’s a note of chagrin in her voice. I take her chin between my fingers and lift her gaze upward.
“What is it, zvezda moya?”
“You keep telling me to obey you,” she says, and to my horror, her voice wavers and her eyes shine with unshed tears. “But I am trying the best that I can. I haven’t defied you. Not at all. I slipped up once by accident, and a few times I’ve been too shocked to obey you immediately.”
My heart squeezes and I want to kick myself. She yearns to please me so much, and I haven’t honored her obedience to me.
“Sweet girl,” I say, holding her even tighter. “You please me more than words can say, in all that you do. You are beautiful and kind, and such a very good girl. It isn’t you that worries me.”
She basks in my praise like a flower in the sun, blooming to full brightness under the rays. “Tell me again, sir? Please.” Her voice is choked with emotion. How could I have overlooked this before? How desperate she is for my approval?
“You are such a good girl,” I tell her. “I can’t imagine how you could please me more.”
And then she’s crying, tears falling down her cheeks, sniffing into my chest.
“Marissa,” I whisper, but she shakes her head.
“Years,” she manages to choke out. “I’ve wanted you for years. And it isn’t fair how hard we have to fight to be together. But it doesn’t matter. None of it does. We fight harder than anyone else, and when we finally can live in peace, we will appreciate it more.”
My throat is tight. I swallow hard to keep my emotions in check, to remain strong for her.
“We will,” I agree. “Hell, we already do. Now let’s do what we need to today. Let’s follow the script. Trust me, sweet girl. Will you?”
; She lifts her face to me, her eyes bright with conviction.
“I will. I do.”
We prepare in silence. There are too many things to say that no one else can overhear. Now that our next step is here, I’m eager to take it.
I don’t like that when we leave, Erik and Yakov will be joining us, but it’s the smallest detail of what I dread next. I brought nearly nothing with me when I boarded, so only a small bag of my essentials remains when I take her off the ship. We’ve arranged for a rental car to be waiting for us when we leave, large enough to accommodate all six of us, and Yakov brings clothing for the girls. We’ll get more permanent transportation when we arrive at our new compound.
So many questions trouble me about what happens next. Will anyone in Boston recognize me? Or her? Are any of the Boston Bratva in league with her father? How will I manage to keep her from being shared by the other men if I offer her as tribute?
We exit the ship and a large black SUV waits for us beside the wharf. Erik, Yakov, and I load our luggage and situate the girls. I’m driving, Marissa is in the passenger seat, and the other four remain in the back. Tomas and the rest are waiting for us at the compound, the directions already loaded on my phone. I buckled Marissa in myself. It’s a hot, humid summer day in Boston, the wharf teeming with tourists and vendors. I need this but hate it at the same time. The busier it is, the less likely we are to being noticed or identified. The busier it is, the easier it is for someone to touch her. Look at her.
I want her alone in a tower, hidden from anyone else’s eyes but mine. I want to hold her to me and shield her from anyone and everything that could harm her. But to save her, I have to bring her to the heart of where the most pressing danger lies.
It’s a beautiful summer day in Boston, bright and sunny. Vendors sell their wares: t-shirts and souvenirs, hot dogs and cotton candy. Full blooms and greens decorate archways that cover walkways, and just beyond the busyness of the wharf, cobblestones line old-fashioned streets.
