Obey: XXX Maxim Book 2 (Club XXX)

by Lana Sky

  “Stop!” I cringe and push back from the table, ignoring the telltale clenching of his jaw. “You’re insane.”

  “And you live for it,” he counters, still seated, still eerily calm. His thumb continues to stroke the edge of the knife. Faster. Harder, leaving streaks of sweat along the metal. “I saw the truth tonight. That look in your eye. You’re wet already, thinking of the things I will do to you.”

  He’s lying. My body feels heavy because I’m afraid. So afraid that I’m aching. Burning. Dying from anticipation.

  “And the things I will do to you,” he muses, his voice thickening. “Whatever punishment you think you’ve earned, I can assure you that you won’t come close.”

  My mind skips ahead, conjuring a million horrific tortures. Whips. Chains. Pain.

  “Then,” he says as if factoring in every single fantasy, “we will be, as they say, even.”

  Even? Something he said weeks ago sticks in my brain. If I hurt you again, you have my permission…

  “Like you have the right—” My breathing hitches and a guttural sound cuts into my thoughts, setting every nerve in my body on edge. It came from him, ripped right from his chest. A growl.

  “I can smell you from here,” he warns, his throat jerking around a harsh swallow. His eyes flash and train on my throat, tracing every nervous swallow I take. “You deserve to be ripped raw for what you’ve done. Bitten until you know you’re mine. Fucked senseless for every man who’s seen you. One hundred and fifty-seven. I’ve been keeping count.”

  He says it all without a damn given for any waiter or waitress who might overhear. But we’re alone by design, I realize after a quick glance around.

  This display of domination is solely for me.

  “You want me to,” he declares coarsely. His knuckles whiten further as his fingers flex, bunching the tablecloth with every tense motion. “So ask for it.”

  “Why? So you can leave the country the second you feel like it?” My knees are shaking, knocking against one another. My thighs are clenched together so tightly that sweat drips between them. God, I hope it’s sweat. “I thought you were done—”

  He laughs and the rich sound startles me into silence. “You know, any other pet would take that as a mercy,” he says. “A sane woman. They’d be relieved.”

  His tone is too hard. It’s not a joke.

  “But not you,” he continues, his lips parting into a dangerous shadow of a smile. He’s never looked more terrifying than he does now: painfully, insanely honest. “You don’t want to share your pain. So fucking greedy, you are. You want my sole attention, kotyonok. You want to be the only little doll I get to fuck.”

  My cheeks flame. “But you don’t want to keep me.”

  “Oh?”

  I’ve barely processed the motion of standing when his hand strikes the table so hard that his knife goes flying and slides across the wooden floor. His sharp intake of breath is my only warning before I feel him. His hand cinches around my wrist, imparting a strength that makes me gasp. Groan.

  A monstrous crash shakes the room to its core. The table being shoved aside? No, a giant, barreling toward me.

  Pain. Nails sink into my flesh as he grabs me by the shoulder and yanks me back, lifting my feet from the floor. I kick out, but it’s no use. He spins me around and crushes me to the wall. His chest feels hard against my back, his teeth catching my earlobe and biting down. It’s merely a taste of his anger, and the brief, sharp pain has me writhing against burgundy wallpaper.

  But it’s not enough. Never enough.

  “I will give you what you want,” he swears. “But first, you admit it. Tell me, little kotyonok. Tell me what you need.”

  My brain shies away from the question, chanting an answer that’s become a mantra. Nothing. Nothing. Just money. Nothing else. But the lie doesn’t leave my throat, and I go limp, sandwiched between him and the wall. What do I need?

  I scrape my nails against the harsh surface beneath me, seeking the delicious burn. Any pain I can find on my own. Clarity. I crave it. Whatever I feel is only a faint echo of what the creature behind me promises. His breath alone is a tempting burn against my flesh.

  Too. Fucking. Real.

  “Say it,” he coaxes, destruction promised in every grated syllable. Thick fingers fist through my hair and tighten, making tears burn behind my eyes. He tugs his fist. “Tell me—”

  I groan, smearing drool along the design of a gilded fern. “You tell me,” I choke out.

  He pulls on my hair so hard that I’m forced to arch my back and focus my blurred vision on the ceiling. A scream escapes my throat, but it’s in vain. No one’s coming. Not a waitress or another diner.

  I’m alone in hell with him.

  And this time, he won’t let me escape.

  My heart hammers at the chilling realization. My lips moisten. Throat swallows. Legs tighten…

  “Fuck, even the thought of it arouses you,” Maxim accuses. He barely sounds human anymore. Just a pained creature who communicates in growls and grunts. Primal. Ruthless. Animal.

  He’s unashamedly harsh, grinding his erection against my ass, teasing me with the brutal fullness. Moist heat floods my inner thighs, readying for the violence promised. If I let him, he’ll break me. Ruin me.

  A thought races across my mind before I can smother it: I want him to.

  “I’ll tell you what I want. I promise I’ll…” His teeth seize the skin along my collar and bite down to the point where it stings. But not enough to bleed. Not enough to really hurt. Not enough to make me feel how only he can.

  Sharp.

  Clear.

  Alive…

  “I’ll say it first. Is that what you fucking want? I want you,” he admits, his voice a nearly unintelligible octave. “You…begging me to stop. Knowing I won’t. I want you raw. Wet. Fucking. Screaming. Fuck, I crave you—”

  He stops making sense and just mutters nonsense. Violent things. Brutal things. Tempting, fucking, twisted, insane goddamn things.

  “But you…” Ragged breaths slice my words into gnarled bits. “Let me go. Again. You’re always letting me go! Do you want to know what he said? Sevastyn?” I twist, spitting the words in his face. “He said you wouldn’t want me after. And he was fucking right!”

  “No.” Without warning, he wrenches the sleeve of my dress down one arm, baring my breast to the mercy of his fingers. Heat. Tearing. Ice. He cups me in his palm, capturing my heart through layers of flesh and bone.

  Groaning, he squeezes.

  “Never. You are mine.” He finds my nipple between the pads of two fingers and crushes it.

  My moan drips from me in heaving, disjointed cries. They nearly drown out what he says next. What he breathes into me. What madness he confesses.

  “I will always crave this tight fucking cunt. This greedy little whore who screams my name when she comes for me. On me. I want to own her. One day…I will destroy her. I’ll rip her into fucking pieces—”

  “Stop lying.”

  “Enough!” he roars deafeningly. It’s a sound I’ve never heard him make. His hands grip me tighter than ever. Bruising. Breaking. “Do you know where I went? I needed to think. Are you worth it? My money, my world, all of it—”

  “Stop!” I go limp, choking on tears. “I get it. I’m fucking not. I get it! I’m fucking worthless.”

  He draws back too suddenly. I have to cling to the wall for balance and wind up sinking to my knees. My throat aches, but that voice didn’t come from me. No. Not that pathetic fucking plea. I haven’t heard that girl in so damn long. Not since she uttered the same words to a shitty-ass mother who never cared.

  No one ever cared.

  But he listens, feasting on every whispered word and sob.

  I’m cutting myself open on the remnants of his soul.

  And. It. Hurts.

  Like nothing else.

  “But I don’t care if you think that. I…I’m tired. I’m done.” I try smothering the words into my hands,
but he’s there, crouching behind me to tear them away. “I’d rather walk away for good than constantly have you rip me open.”

  “When I learned what he did, I realized something.” His palm captures my throat, tightening. “Nothing is more important than family.”

  “Stop.” I pant. My cheeks are wet, my chest aching. But there’s no use fighting him now. Squeezing my eyes shut, I surrender. “I…I can’t—”

  “But they are not my family.” His voice resonates in my bones, unbearably deep.

  The only way to block him out is to cover my ears like a fucking child. “Please stop.”

  “I don’t have the right to, but I’m asking. Give me one more night. One more day. If you can do that, you know where to find me.”

  He steps back and I watch him through blurred vision.

  “Wait—”

  “I need you to come to me one last time,” he says. “One last chance for you to decide…”

  Decide what exactly?

  He leaves without saying.

  And I’m too fucking tired to guess.

  Chapter Twenty

  As the hours pass, I can’t ignore this little voice in my head telling me that I am losing the bet already. He said that, when I’m ready, I would know where to find him, but with a man like him, there is only one domain where he would cement a deal like this: the closest equivalent he has to hell.

  I’m shaking as I finally drag myself from my motel room, dressed in a shirt and a pair of jeans, and find a car waiting for me out front. One word and the driver knows the way. Twenty minutes later, he brings me right up to the mouth of the club and that shimmering entrance.

  There’s no one waiting for me out front. I have to enter alone, pushing the main door open before wandering through that cold, foreboding archway. The intensity of the club hits me all at once: murmured voices, low music, sex crackling in the air.

  My eyes are automatically drawn to the stage, just in time to witness the climax of the current show. A buxom redhead is lying across a dais while a man wielding a whip flogs the hell out of her ass from behind. She’s pretty, making enough noise to sell the performance.

  But it’s her costar who commands the stage and steals the limelight.

  He’s bathed in the scarlet glow of the club, and I’ve never seen anyone look so menacing. So fucking powerful: a creature of sin and perfection with a devilish temper to show for it. His hair streams back from his face like a mane, his expression feral as he gives the redhead another brutal taste of the whip.

  She throws her head back sensually, howling in pain.

  The crowd fucking drools.

  But then the show abruptly comes to a halt. Every bit as revealing as a spotlight, two black eyes hunt me down where I’m standing. His hand falls, the whip striking nothing but air as a frown twists his mouth. There is no ounce of shame in his expression: just a dare I’m not brave enough to answer.

  Why are you here, kotyonok?

  I don’t know what draws me forward, forcing me to sidestep a well-dressed couple intent on creating their own show. The closer I come to the stage, the more impressed I am by the setup, despite myself. Three black steps built into the side of the structure allow someone to mount it seamlessly from the audience.

  The moment the sole of my sneaker strikes the first step, a shadow falls over me and I find a monster impatient to dish out my punishment. He doesn’t say a fucking word. His eyes merely track my ascent as I mount the second step and cling to the wall for balance. Somewhere within the past few minutes, the redhead disappeared. The dais is empty: a slab of black marble beckoning me closer.

  Beyond the stage, the entirety of the club stretches out, and every patron watches with avid interest as a heavy hand cups the back of my throat and herds me forward. I’m blinded by the blood-red glow of the lights as Maxim trails a thumb over the corner of my mouth.

  When he nudges me forward, I comply, resting my upper body over the cold slab of marble, both hands braced on either side of me. The moment I’m prone before him, hungry fingers wrench up the back of my shirt and tug on my jeans, baring my ass. A weighted second passes, as if he’s giving me the chance to resist. Run. I don’t, and not even a second later, something whistles through the air—it’s like he can’t control the whip fast enough.

  The first blow isn’t a love tap. The leather bites deep, leaving a stinging pinch I feel all the way in my goddamn core. The answering cry rips out of me, too raw to be held back.

  Not that I even try to.

  The next blow jolts me forward onto the tips of my toes, forcing my fingers to scramble for purchase over the marble. I’m bleeding: a searing welt too shallow to drip. The blood ekes out slowly instead, smearing my skin, tainting the air like perfume. Another hit draws a real cry out of me, one that echoes above every other sound.

  And for the first time in so long, I can think. I can feel.

  Everything.

  Pain returns like an old friend, assaulting me at the urging of a sadistic master—and he makes damn sure I suffer for every second he had to wait for me.

  It feels like an eternity—and every stinging blow only feeds the fire surging through my skin. Consuming me. My cheek is pressed flat against the marble when I finally sense him staggering closer, his hips brushing the back of my ass. Unrelentingly hard, his erection pulses against the fabric of his pants, hungry for my skin. For me.

  Another sound tears out of me before I can choke it down. Wet heat clamps over my earlobe as I writhe against his hardness.

  “Did you think it would be this easy?” a demon growls into my ear, yanking on my hair when I don’t answer. He maintains his hold, even as I stagger to regain my balance—but it’s a damn good thing he does.

  I’ve never felt this unsteady before; it’s like I’m drunk, intoxicated by his scent. The rest of the club is a smear of blurred features and meaningless faces. My sole focus is on the creature behind me.

  With little care for my modesty, he wrenches my jeans down my legs. Panties next. My shirt, he rips from my collar down, baring my breasts and leaving me naked. In front of everyone. One firm yank on my shoulder twists me around to face him. His eyes probe my own as he steers me back, forcing me to climb back onto the stone slab, his body between my legs.

  I get the briefest taste of his erection brushing my inner thigh before he kneels. Oh god.

  His palm flattens against my stomach, pinning me down and throwing my upper body across the marble altar. My head dangles off the edge and all I see are scarlet and shadow before I feel the splash of his breath on me—followed by his tongue. His teeth.

  My eyes roll to the back of my goddamn head as the noise from the crowd swells with murmurs of interest. This isn’t the typical act they’re used to. With ruthless, brutal determination, Maxim Koslov shreds the script.

  Right here, on his knees, in front of what feels like the whole damn world, he fucks me with his tongue. Eats me out. Devours me.

  There’s no preamble like last time. No point to prove.

  Two of his fingers spread me open while his tongue strikes deep, and my entire body jerks as it registers the invasion: thick, hot, burning…too much…god.

  I buck my hips, chasing the sensation, and the nails of his right hand dig into my ass in retaliation. The burning sting has barely coursed through me before he changes his tactic and aims higher, going for the jugular. Pain and pleasure are my only clues to illustrate what he’s doing to cause that harsh, aching sensation in my core: grinding my clit between his teeth.

  And then my brain ceases any coherent thought altogether. I stop tracking his movements and I just fucking feel…

  Everything.

  In the end, he doesn’t let me come; he drags me to the edge. Right when my toes curl. When my chest heaves, my nipples stabbing at nothing. Right when I can’t think or do anything else but explode…

  That’s when he pulls back, his lips glistening, his eyes on fire. One of his hands shoots into the air as if becko
ning someone closer.

  Or something from the ceiling…

  I catch the glint of silver from the corner of my eye before I witness the object being lowered on a rope as if on cue. It’s a hook, the end pointed toward me. With one hand, Maxim grabs it while the other manipulates the whip. He turns his wrist clockwise, winding the leather strap around his knuckles.

  Somehow, I know to lift my arms, raising them high above my head. A shiver runs through me at the harsh contrast of his heat and the cold leather as he wraps the loose end of the whip around my wrists, binding them tightly. I have no choice but to scoot forward to the edge of the slab as he lifts my bound wrists so that the hook catches the center bit of leather between them. Then he steps back and the pressure in my arms grows taut. I have to strain on the tips of my toes—until even that isn’t enough. Within a matter of seconds, I’m suspended by my hands, dangling completely at his mercy.

  Higher and higher, my body is hiked by the hook, until I have to stare down to meet Maxim’s gaze. His narrowed eyes trace my captive form, honing in on my heaving chest, my breasts swaying for his attention.

  I try to close my eyes. Block out the tension swirling through my veins, growing hotter with every step I hear him take—but he is a ruthless master. Callused fingers grab my hip, holding me steady as his body edges in closer. Too close. The ragged vibration of every inhale he takes electrocutes me. My skin is paper, his touch a ravenous fire threatening to burn me alive.

  And the worst part?

  My inner thighs are already slick, craving the destruction.

  “Look,” Maxim commands into my ear. With one hand, he manipulates my body just enough for me to see the shape of the crowd lurking behind us. “They’re watching you. They smell you.” He inhales too, the sound reverberating down my spine. “How you weep for me. Fuck, I can taste you.”