The Assassin's Wife

by Nikita Slater

  His hand tightened on her arm a little and he pulled her steadily against his chest, his hand sliding up her back and into her hair, anchoring her against his body. His heat seeped into her, warming her as it always did, warming her doubts. She relaxed against him a little and brought her hands up to clasp his biceps lightly, feeling his solid muscles through the shirt he wore. He looked down at her, his eyes hooded and serious.

  “These thoughts are valid, my little wife,” he said quietly. “But they don’t matter. I wanted you from the moment I saw you and so I took you. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but we both know the world we live in isn’t a good one.”

  A slight frown marred her brows. He automatically smoothed it with his thumb. “Sometimes it is,” she felt compelled to point out. “It was good when I danced.”

  He traced her lovely features, the magnetic attraction that he had ensured from the very first touch rising between them. “Did I corrupt your good and fair little world, dancer?” he asked, his voice caressing the words.

  She knew he was serious. He wanted to know her thoughts. David wanted to know what it was like for her to be torn from the only world she’d known, taken unwillingly and thrust into the role of wife. Of course, he knew that the Bolshoi wasn’t uncorrupted. And he knew that she wasn’t entirely unwilling to leave by the time David had finished wooing, though she knew he would have taken her willing or not. He’d never pretended otherwise.

  She kept her blue eyes steady on him, letting him see the piercing expectation within. “Let us hope not, David,” she whispered.

  He smoothed his hand over her hair and plucked the lily from the dark red-brown stands, letting it fall on the soft satin cloth of her wedding jacket. His deft fingers reached past her narrow shoulders and swiftly unknotted the intricate braid that had taken nearly an hour to pin up. A small sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as his fingers smoothed and sifted the sections, sliding the soft hair around her shoulders. She closed her eyes for a moment, simply enjoying the pleasure of his hands against her scalp and neck.

  David could be such a contradiction. Hard and cold one moment and then gentle the next. She would take whatever scraps of affection she could find, unsure of what tomorrow might hold. His fingers slid past the length of her hair, over her shoulder to the zipper at the back of her dress. Her eyes flew up to his face and her hands clenched where they still touched his arms as he slid the zipper down the length of her back, stopping only when he reached her waist. Her breath escaped in a sigh as he slid his hand in the back of her dress through the parted fabric. The heat from his hand scorched a delicious path down her back from her shoulder blades to her waist and back up again as he traced the length of her spine.

  “Krasivaya,” he murmured in her ear. “You are so beautiful, my love.”

  She moaned, the combination of his hands against her hair and back and his softly spoken words of endearment melting her. Before she knew what was happening he was sliding the satin and lace fabric of her dress from her shoulders and skimming it down her body until it too was pooled at her feet. She wasn’t wearing a bra and it took everything in her not to jerk her hands up to cover her breasts. She knew he wouldn’t allow her to cover herself though, so she kept her hands clenched against his shirt, using him as a lifeline. She used the chemistry flowing between them to bolster her courage. When she looked at him, her pupils were dilated and her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

  “Hold still,” he told her and bent to kneel at her feet.

  She swayed a little with the loss of his solid presence and reached for his shoulder while he unbuckled each heel and slid them from her delicate feet. She clung to him while he lifted her feet one at a time and tended to her. When he placed her second foot flat on the ground and looked up at her she realized how much smaller she was than him, even when he was at her feet. He had one hand wrapped around her hip and the other around her thigh. It was not a difficult feat for anyone to be taller than a ballet dancer, the entire industry was short and at 5’1” Natasha was no exception. But with David bowed before her, his head at her breast level, it felt somehow significant.

  She suddenly felt compelled to beg him, “Please don’t hurt me.”

  Chapter Five

  She hoped he would immediately reassure her. Tell her he wouldn’t now or ever hurt her. But she knew better. Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t answer her, maybe couldn’t answer her. Perhaps he knew that eventually he would do something to hurt her. But not today. Today was about pleasure. He tugged the delicate fabric of her white panties down her thighs until they landed at her feet, joining her dress.

  He slid his hands up her legs from her ankles to her thighs, lingering at the backs of her knees for just a moment before pressing into the flesh of her toned butt cheeks and urging her legs apart. She gasped and grabbed hold of his shoulders shakily as her feet parted. He looked up as she glanced down, her smoky blue gaze uncertain. Until he bent his head and his wicked, hot tongue touched something on her aching pussy that jolted every piece of uncertainty away. Then she was absolutely certain with every fibre of her being. She never wanted him to stop doing that thing he was doing to her. Ever.

  “David!” she moaned, her head falling back and her fingers burrowing into his hair as though finding an anchor.

  Her knees give out and she allowed him to take her will away from her. He held her up with hands wrapped firmly around her hips as his tongue, mouth and teeth did magical, divine things to a part of her body that no man had ever seen let alone touched or looked at. Perhaps she should have been embarrassed or tried to stand on her own two feet, but Tasha was used to relying on the strength of partners. And David was more than capable of manipulating her body while Tasha experienced a new kind of dance. He had more strength in his body than many of the partners she’d been forced to dance with over the years.

  His tongue played with her, over and over, igniting sparks that flared throughout her belly and legs until her cries filled the once strangely silent room. He pushed forward aggressively and then retreated until she was crying out and begging him for more, her fingers scrambling frantically along his scalp reaching for something… something illusive. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she felt him rushing her relentlessly, ruthlessly forward on some kind of previously unbeknownst path. Did she dare go down it? Did she have a choice?

  “David!” she screamed as she fell off the ledge, his arms wrapped around her in a brutal, unbreakable hold, carrying her safely through the shattering experience of her first orgasm.

  David lifted her into his arms and pressed her shaking body, still erupting with tiny pleasurable shocks, onto the bed. She barely noticed him leave her to finish undressing… until the aftershocks of her orgasm gave way to the actual shock of seeing her very first penis. In the flesh. She’d seen penises before, giggled with other dancers over pictures on the internet. Which didn’t compare to seeing one in real life.

  Her eyes widened and her knees automatically slammed together. She scrambled toward the headboard, reaching for a pillow and wondering if he could get his money back at this point. Wondered how much the principal female dancer of the Bolshoi had cost him. How much did divorces cost? She didn’t know if his cock was proportionate to his body size, because this was the first one she’d seen in real life, but she thought this one was big. Too big. Was most definitely not going to fit in anything, anywhere near her.

  It was also veined, and a little on the purple side. The top was smooth, but… round and capped… oh god…. blyad… not good, not good. His stomach was a work of art. It would make the male dancers at the Bolshoi green with envy. She wondered what his workout regime was? Okay, she felt better looking above his…. oh god… his… Tasha was pretty sure she was going to pass out. She squeezed her knees together even tighter and felt the wetness between her thighs. She was amazed that it was even still there.

  “Natasha, my love, you need to calm down and breathe,” David said in his usual measured, quiet voice. “Come o
n, krasivaya, breathe with me.”

  She flinched when he kneeled on the bed and enveloped her thigh with his hand. She did her best to listen to him and to take even breaths with him, breathing as he insisted she should, matching the rise and fall of her chest to his. But it was so difficult when he was doing frightening things to her, like taking hold of her waist, gripping gently but firmly with both hands and dragging her down the bed, away from the security of the headboard until she was flat on her back underneath him. He slowly pried the pillow from her stiff fingers and tossed it aside.

  She stared up at him, fright of the unknown replacing every bit of the former wonder of her orgasm. Though she could see impatience tearing at the edges of his restraint, creeping through the blackness of his implacable gaze, something seemed to hold him back from simply tearing into his new wife. She didn’t know what. No one would have stopped him. Or blamed him. As he pointed out, neither of them lived in a fair world. She was sold to the Bolshoi, who, in turn, sold her to David. In darkest reality, she was a slave. Her husband could do whatever he wanted to her.

  Yet he chose to pleasure his new wife. So, she did as he asked. She tried to relax beneath him and she breathed, which seemed to please whatever ravenous beast was inside of him. He dropped his head into her neck and he kissed her skin, licking her softness. He seemed to like the way she felt on his tongue. And she liked that she pleased him. It made her feel special in an intimate way that her years of competitive dancing never could.

  His wonderful, patient, deliberate hands drifted down her body until once more he was strumming that part of her that made her throw back her head, spread her legs and fill the room with moans. He took one of her pointed nipples into his mouth and then devoured her entire breast in one heated lick until she was screaming at the ceiling of their bedroom and thrashing beneath him. She had no idea her breasts could possibly feel so sensitive. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she gulped air into her starved lungs and arched her back, thrusting her breasts into his hot, hot mouth, insisting he never stop suckling.

  She barely noticed when the finger that had been absently, pleasantly stroking her clitoris, moved lower and began to penetrate her tight body. The pressure was utter bliss. She lifted herself, forcing the finger further into her slippery depths, reaching for something more. She moaned and squirmed, moving herself against him until she was certain she would die if she didn’t reach the incredible paradise she knew only he could give her.

  “David… I want it!” she moaned, her voice a breathy demand.

  She inhaled sharply when he added another finger, stretching her, filling her. It was exactly what she wanted and needed. She cried out, moving her hips against his hand and arching her neck back into the pillow. His fingers inside her were more than anything she could have ever imagined when she’d lain awake at night knowing eventually he would touch her and hoping it would feel good. God, how naïve I’ve been, this is so much more than I could have hoped for!

  A shadow drifted over her closed eyelids. The moment his thumb touched her tiny, sensitive clit, her eyes flew open to meet the pitch black eyes hovering inches from hers. The intense possession within them stole her breath, stole the strength from her body, everything but her need to obey the will of the man demanding everything from her. He thrust his fingers deep within her body, using her silken fluids to ease his way, and pressed this thumb hard against her clit. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes demanded everything from her.

  Tears flowed from her eyes and she screamed, her blue eyes locked with his as she danced for him, obeying his every command. He removed his fingers from her orgasming body, replacing them with his cock and pushing into her warm, still thrashing body before she even had time to process what he was doing. He thrust into her hot, tight body, burying himself deep within her. Tasha dragged her nails down his back, gasping her screams into his damp neck while her pussy clenched painfully around his invasion.

  She shook underneath him fisting her hands against his sides as he began to move. She gasped in agony at the tight, painful thrust of his cock inside her tender body. She clenched and tried to flinch away from him, but David held her tight, not allowing her even a single inch of leeway. The pressure was too much! It felt impossible. She was simply too small for him, or he was too big for her. This wasn’t going to work. She gaped, trying to find the ragged words to tell him they didn’t fit.

  But something told her he wouldn’t listen. That she was wrong anyway. That this is what the other dancers meant when they said the first time wasn’t good. But she couldn’t imagine sex getting better after this. How could it? Things were too… tight. Too painful. She couldn’t imagine enduring this forever. David was just going to have to get his money back and send her back to the Bolshoi. If she was lucky she would be able to get back into the chorus. If she was extra lucky she would eventually work her way back up to principal. Just a little worse for wear.

  “Natasha, my love.” His voice brought her sharply back. He’d stilled within her. “Look at me.”

  She turned her head to him and only then realized that tears were streaming down her pale cheeks and into the tangles of her dark hair. Accusation burned in her beautiful pained gaze when she blinked up at her husband.

  He settled his body over hers, framing her face with the strong, veined hands that she admired so much. He bent over her and took her mouth in a long, leisurely kiss, tangling his tongue against hers, taking his time to play with her. She wouldn’t know until much later how much it cost him to wait those few extra minutes to engage her once more in sensual play. The tears dried, her heart began to flutter against her ribcage and she met his tongue with tentative pressure. Only then did he begin to move his hips, sliding against her, in and out, dancing with his wife in a way that wouldn’t crush her.

  The pain receded enough that Tasha was able to lift her knees, sliding them along David’s thighs until she was clasping his hips. Once she did this, his cock was able to hit something inside her that felt good instead of painful. Her sobs turned to cries of pleasure. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted herself against him, pressing her hips into his thrusts, trusting him to take care of her. She buried her fingers in the muscles of his back, arched her neck and let go, leaping with him into oblivion.

  David clenched his fists into the pillow next to her head, catching some of her hair and forcing Tasha to arch her neck back even further. He grunted and clutched her so hard in his embrace that she feared for a second he would crush her. Semen flooded through Tasha’s virgin body, shocking her with the intense heat. She yelped at this new sensation, holding onto her new anchor, trusting him to keep her safe.

  David loosened his tight embrace and pressed his lips against her forehead. Tasha blinked up at him sleepily. She yawned and quickly brought a hand up to cover her mouth. The edge of his lip quirked, softening the thin white scar. Tasha’s limbs felt heavy and languid. She began to drift in and out of consciousness and wondered which way was safest to go, in the arms of her new husband as he smoothed the strands of her dark hair on the pillow behind her. She sighed and closed her eyes, finally deciding on sleep. David had given her no choice but to trust him, so trust him she would. Then he rolled over and stood next to the bed, reaching for his clothes, jarring her awake.

  “Get dressed,” he said, his voice suddenly distant and hard. “We fly to Tokyo tonight.”

  Chapter Six

  Calgary, Canada, Two years and four months later

  “Delivery for Trish Portman.”

  Tasha jumped in her office chair, smacking her knee against the unyielding wooden desk. She blinked several times, her heart pounding at the sound of an unknown male voice. She had been so absorbed in her task that she barely noticed the man approach. She silently chastised herself for her inattention. She knew better than to lose focus. She’d gotten sloppy lately, settled and content. She needed to get her edge back. With a small sigh, she turned toward the delivery person, curving her lips into a profess
ionally cool smile.

  The delivery person had certainly noticed Tasha, for at least a few minutes, before making himself known. Her pixie-like features, dark mahogany hair falling across her shoulders and back, and perfectly curved body were so flawless they’d enslaved him from first glance. Over the past few months, Tasha had begun to dress more like the other agents to garner sales. Thus, she was wearing a slim pencil skirt, tight button up top and red lipstick. She called the look slutty professional, but it paid for her small apartment.

  Flicking the nameplate on her desk he said with a wide, flirtatious grin, “If I buy tickets to paradise from you, do you promise to fly with me?”

  Tasha rolled her eyes and held out her hand for the slip. “Never heard that before,” she said sweetly in flawless English. She darted a glance at the other two women seated in the travel agency office. They were watching with unabashed amused interest.

  Signing the slip, she reached out to accept the package. It was a long, slim box, tied off with a red bow. She set it down and laughed as the delivery guy pretended to ogle her and walk dramatically into the doorframe at the same time as he tried to exit. He gave her a goofy wave and sauntered away.

  “What is it, Trish?” Regan asked, perching daintily on the edge of Tasha’s desk while peeking over Tasha’s shoulder at the package.

  Tasha shrugged and swatted at the other woman. “Stop polishing my desk with your butt!” she scolded giving Regan a small shove. “I’m sure it’s nothing. We get so much promotional material around here, it’s probably another sun destination poster or something. You know me, I sign us up for everything.”

  Regan stood, smoothing her skirt and grinned cheekily, “Such a little keener Ms. Portman!”

  “Hey!” Tasha defended herself with a light laugh, “I’m just trying to draw in those commissions.”