Destiny Mine

by Anna Zaires

  The expression on his face.

  His eyes are narrowed, his nostrils flaring as he undoes his belt, and in the jerkiness of his movements, I see the violent hunger that’s always there, the dark, savage need that also pulses in my core.

  He’s going to hurt me tonight, I can feel it, and my insides clench on a wave of fear and lust. I should run, should protest, but my body acts of its own accord, my legs propelling me off the bed to kneel on the carpet in front of him, my hands reaching for the zipper of his tuxedo pants.

  “Yes, that’s it, come here,” he mutters under his breath, his hands fisting roughly in my hair as I open the zipper and push down his pants, freeing his erection. He’s already fully aroused, his cock long and thick, so hard the veins are popping out along the shaft. It’s a weapon, that cock, but also a tool of unimaginable pleasure, and my mouth waters as I stare at it, remembering how he choked me with it—and how it made me burn.

  He pulls my face closer and slaps his cock across my cheek. Once, twice, a third time. I open my mouth on the fourth slap and catch the tip, sucking it in as I meet his gaze. The familiar musky taste further heats my core, and my left hand snakes between my legs while my right one reaches up to cup his balls.

  His face twists with ferocious pleasure as I squeeze him gently, and he thrusts deeper into my mouth, his fists tightening in my hair. “Fuck …” he groans, his voice low and rough. “Keep doing that, just like that.”

  I obey, letting him fuck my throat as I massage his balls. At the same time, my left hand rubs my clit, my thighs quivering with growing tension as I find the right rhythm. His pupils dilate further, his hips moving ever faster, and I’m close, so close when he grits out something in Russian and abruptly pushes me away.

  Startled, I fall backward onto my palms, and before I can recover my wits, he grabs me and throws me on the bed again.

  “You’re not getting off that easy,” he growls, and I suck in an unsteady breath as he loops his belt around my wrists, securing them to the headboard, and then moves down my body, his strong hands pulling apart my legs.

  “What are you doing?” My heartbeat is so fast I can barely speak. “Peter, please, you don’t have to—”

  “Hush,” he breathes against my thigh, and I gasp as his teeth graze across my labia before his tongue pushes between my folds, unerringly finding my throbbing clit.

  The ignition is nearly instant. Fire licks through my veins, and I arch, screaming and pulling on the belt as the delayed orgasm crashes over me, making my entire body spasm. But my tormentor is not done. His tongue gentles, softening just enough to let me ride the aftershocks, and then two rough fingers thrust into me, finding my G-spot. I cry out, spiraling again as his tongue resumes its devil’s work, and it’s not long before I come again.

  He’s still not done, though, his talented mouth moving up my body, dropping burning kisses on my belly and breasts, sucking on my nipples and the sensitive part of my neck. And all the while his fingers stay in me as his thumb works my clit, bringing me to the edge again.

  His lips meet mine just as I start to come, and I moan my release into his mouth, tasting myself on his tongue as he deepens the kiss. My muscles feel like they’ve liquified inside my skin, my wrists raw from tugging on the belt, and yet he still fucks me with those two rough fingers, all through my climax and beyond.

  I’m on the verge of yet another orgasm when he lifts his head and withdraws his fingers, only to move them lower, smearing my wetness all along the way. I squirm, realizing what he’s planning, but he’s relentless, and I cry out, my eyes squeezing shut as his middle finger finds my back opening, the slickness from my sex acting like lube as the finger pushes into me, past the resistance of clenched muscles.

  He’s taken me like this before, but it’s been over nine months, and his finger feels as enormous as his cock, the edges of his nail abrading tender tissues. My heartbeat spikes, my breath catching in my throat as he withdraws the invading finger slowly, only to have it joined by another.

  “Peter…”

  “Shhh.” He kisses me again, and as the two fingers press on my opening, making me tense in panic, his thumb finds my aching clit. The orgasm that all but receded rockets back, the tension cresting with explosive force, and as I come, moaning helplessly, the two fingers push all the way in.

  I tense again, but it’s too late, and all I can do is breathe shakily as he stretches my tight passage, making it sting and burn. The fullness is unbearable, invasive, yet underneath the discomfort is a promise of something more, and my body contracts in orgasmic aftershocks, chasing that darker sensation.

  “Yes, that’s it, ptichka,” he breathes against my lips, and I shudder as his thumb finds my clit again. I can’t come another time, it’s impossible, yet my body doesn’t realize that it’s spent. The tension gathers in my core, winding it tighter, and I’m on the verge of orgasm, trembling and panting, when the invading fingers pull out of my ass.

  I groan in frustration, tugging on the belt and arching my hips, and he laughs softly, the sound low and dark as the mattress to the left of me dips.

  Startled, I open my eyes, but he’s already back, a small bottle in his hand. “Don’t worry, ptichka. We’ll get you there,” he promises huskily, and I jolt as he tips the bottle, drizzling the cool liquid all over my swollen sex. It trickles lower, to the crevice between my cheeks, and my pulse speeds again as our eyes meet.

  In his gaze, I see hunger and something more, a wordless yet fierce demand. Hooking his forearms under my knees, he lifts my legs onto his shoulders and leans forward, stretching my hamstrings as he guides his cock to my ass.

  “Is this what you want from me?” His eyes glitter as he presses forward. “Is this what you need?”

  He pushes in deeper, and I groan at the stinging pressure, sweat dampening my spine as my sphincter slowly gives in. With my legs draped over his shoulders, I can’t control the depth of penetration, and he slides all the way in, filling me until my stomach churns and my breath comes in frantic, shallow gasps.

  “I don’t…” I drag in a deeper breath, fighting a wave of dizziness. “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you?” His mouth twists, a cruel gleam lighting his metallic gaze as he withdraws halfway, only to push back in. “Or is it that you just can’t say?”

  The stinging burn is still there, the fullness as extreme as before, but as his thumb lands on my clit, a tantalizing tension drowns out the pain. His hips move slowly, his massive cock gliding deeper with each merciless stroke, and the orgasm begins to build, the pleasure different from before, stronger and darker, as agonizing as it is exquisite.

  It’s too much, too intense, and I can hear myself begging and pleading, squirming as much as the restrictive position allows. But the cruel light stays in his eyes, his pace unchanged even as sweat droplets appear on his brow.

  “Answer me,” he rasps out, leaning in to nearly fold me in half, and I scream as the pain sets off the spark, lighting the fire that consumes me. The ecstasy explodes through my nerve endings, my vision flooding with white light as I shut my eyes. The tingling chills race up and down my spine, the release careening through my body, making every muscle tremble and lock up.

  I hear him groan above me and feel a warm throbbing deep inside. He’s coming too, I realize dazedly, and peel open my eyelids long enough to see the same agonizing pleasure twist his face.

  Breathing heavily, he collapses on top of me, and we stay like that, our breaths synchronizing as we recover. My hamstrings feel like they might tear from the stretch, and my ass burns as his cock softens gradually inside it, but I don’t want to move.

  I want to stay like this, my body joined with his forever.

  “Yes,” I say quietly as he slowly lifts his head and pushes himself up to relieve some of the pressure on my legs. Our eyes meet, and a dark triumph kindles in his gaze as I repeat wearily, “Yes, it is.”

  I understand his question now, and I know the terrifying ans
wer. This is what I want from him—and it’s definitely what I need. Pain, punishment, force—I require that from him nearly as much as love and tenderness.

  I need the total package, as messed up as that may be.

  He reaches forward and frees my hands, then carefully withdraws from me and cleans me with a tissue. I close my eyes, too drained to move, and his strong arms slide under me, lifting me off the bed.

  He carries me into the shower and washes me there, wiping off the smeared makeup, undoing all the intricate curls and waves in my updo. Then he wraps me in a towel and brings me to the living room, where he sits down on the couch, holding me cuddled on his lap.

  I lay my head on his broad shoulder and place my palm over his heart, feeling the steady beat inside his muscled chest as he gently massages my nape, his strong fingers working out knots I didn’t even know were there.

  “So tell me, then.” His voice is a soft, deep rumble underneath my ear. “Tell me why you nearly backed out today.”

  “Because…” Because Ryson reminded me of the reality of things, made me feel lower than a slug—that’s what I start to say, but then I stop. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the full truth either. I was panicking before the agent’s visit, before he forced me to confront the ugly facts.

  “Because why?” Peter prompts, pausing the massage.

  “Because…” A knot forms in my throat as I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them, pulling back to meet his gaze. It’s time I stopped pretending and embraced the truth. Taking a breath, I say unsteadily, “Because you were right. Back in Japan, when you said that it’s too late for me, you were right.” It’s getting harder to force the words out, but I make myself continue. “It was too late then, and it’s definitely too late now. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along our jagged path, I fell in love with you. Only I—” I stop, my throat closing up completely.

  His gray eyes soften, his hand resuming the light massage. “Only you what?”

  “Only I can’t take it,” I confess, the words like rocks inside my vocal cords. “I need...” I stop, unable to voice it fully, but he understands.

  “You need this.” He lifts his hand to stroke my cheek. “You need me to make it hurt sometimes, to take control and force you. To take away the other choices, so you can embrace the one you really want.”

  I nod jerkily, equal parts ashamed and relieved. It’s wrong and cowardly of me, but in the context of all the other wrongness, it’s the one thing that feels right. Our relationship will never be like that of other people… because it shouldn’t exist at all. Torturer and victim, killer and his target’s widow—we’re as impossible together as any predator and prey, but because of Peter, we are here.

  His obsession created us.

  He understands; I see it in the warm silver of his gaze. “So today, when I called you from the venue,” he murmurs, tucking a damp strand of hair behind my ear, “you needed that, didn’t you, ptichka? You needed to know that walking away wasn’t an option… that you had to marry me or else.”

  I swallow thickly, fighting the temptation to look away. “I think so. Maybe. I—” I stop again, unable to formulate the confusing mix of emotions I’d experienced. His threat had terrified me as intended, but I now realize that I’d also been relieved.

  Deep down, I’d been counting on him to do it, to lift away the worst of my shame and guilt.

  His warm hand curves around my jaw, his thumb brushing soothingly across my cheek. “It’s okay, ptichka. Don’t feel bad. It is what it is, and it’s okay to admit it.”

  I stare into his eyes. “You don’t think that I’m… an awful person?”

  “Because you love me, or because you can’t embrace it fully?”

  “Either. Both.”

  His smile is both sensuous and sad. “No, my love. You’re a product of your upbringing, as I am one of mine. You were right too, back at the Swiss clinic, when you said that in a different world, a different life, it would’ve all been different. If I could, I would erase the past, rewrite the history between us, but in lieu of that, I’ll give you what you need—what we both need, if we are being honest.”

  I hold his gaze, my eyes burning. He understands, because he’s my dark, terrifying mirror, his cravings both inverse and parallel to mine. He loves me, he’s demonstrated that in the most vivid ways, but some part of him also needs to hurt me, to punish me for the pain of the past.

  To control me, so I can’t leave him.

  So he won’t lose me, the way he lost Tamila and his son.

  “I do love you,” I say softly, the words coming easier the second time. “I love you, Peter, with everything I am. And I appreciate what you’ve done for me… what you have given up.”

  He chose me over his vengeance.

  He chose our love over his desire to deal death.

  His smile dims—the reminder about Henderson must still hurt—but then he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “I know, ptichka. I know you love me—and one way or another, we’re going to make this work. We have to… because I’m not letting you walk away.”

  I lay my head back on his shoulder, closing my eyes, and feel the heart beating inside that powerful chest.

  He’s right.

  We’re going to make this work.

  Our love may not be simple and straightforward, but it’s no less strong for how it began. This marriage won’t be easy, but it’s forever.

  No matter what happens, we have each other.

  For as long as we’re both alive.

  Epilogue

  Henderson

  I stare at my computer screen, clicking from one glossy picture to another, my throat burning and my hand shaking with nauseating rage.

  They look beautiful, both young and healthy, dressed in the best wedding finery blood-stained wealth can buy. In one picture, he’s lifting her against his chest; in another, they’re holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes.

  I click again and taste the bitterness of bile. They’re smiling at each other in this picture, standing next to her family and friends.

  Do any of these people know?

  Do they realize what he is?

  She knows. Of that I have no doubt. I see it in her eyes, her pretty, lying smile.

  She knows, and she loves him.

  She married him, knowing the monstrous things he’s done.

  I roll my head from side to side, futilely trying to release the agonizing tension. The steroid shots are no longer helping, and the pain eats at me, keeping me awake at night, adding to my nightmares and insomnia.

  Three years of running.

  Three years of fearing for my children’s lives.

  Three years of knowing that everyone I left behind may be killed or tortured… that no one I care about will ever be truly safe.

  I click over to a browser window and navigate to my daughter’s Facebook page. There’s nothing there since three years ago, nothing on my son’s social media as well. They, too, have lived in fear all this time.

  In fear of the monster smiling at his loving bride.

  He thinks he’s won.

  He thinks it’s over.

  He’s convinced they’re going to let his reign of terror slide.

  Turning away from the computer, I open the folder on my desk, trying to stay calm as I review the list of names—my own list this time.

  Julian Esguerra, CIA’s pet monster.

  His loyal partner, Lucas Kent.

  Yan and Ilya Ivanov.

  Anton Rezov.

  And of course, Peter Sokolov himself.

  They think they have it made, that they’re untouchable.

  They couldn’t be more wrong.

  It’s time the world saw them for the terrorists they are.

  One way or another, they’ll pay.

  The End

  Thank you for reading! If you would consider leaving a review, it would be greatly appreciated. Peter & Sara’s story continues in Forever Mine. If you�
��d like to be notified when it’s out, please sign up for my new release email list at http://www.annazaires.com/.

  If you’re enjoying this series, you might like the following books:

  The Twist Me Trilogy – Julian & Nora’s story, where Peter appears as a secondary character and gets his list

  The Capture Me Trilogy – Lucas & Yulia’s story

  The Mia & Korum Trilogy – A dark sci-fi romance

  The Krinar Captive – A standalone sci-fi romance

  The Krinar Kindle World stories – Sci-fi romance stories by other authors, set in the Krinar world

  Collaborations with my husband, Dima Zales:

  Mind Machines – An action-packed techno-thriller

  The Mind Dimensions Series – Urban fantasy

  The Last Humans Trilogy – Dystopian/post-apocalyptic science fiction

  The Sorcery Code – Epic fantasy

  Additionally, if you like audiobooks, please click HERE to check out this series and our other books in audio.

  And now please turn the page for a little taste of Twist Me, Capture Me, and The Krinar Captive.

  Excerpt from Twist Me

  Author’s Note: Twist Me is a dark erotic trilogy about Nora and Julian Esguerra. All three books are now available.

  Kidnapped. Taken to a private island.

  I never thought this could happen to me. I never imagined one chance meeting on the eve of my eighteenth birthday could change my life so completely.

  Now I belong to him. To Julian. To a man who is as ruthless as he is beautiful—a man whose touch makes me burn. A man whose tenderness I find more devastating than his cruelty.

  My captor is an enigma. I don’t know who he is or why he took me. There is a darkness inside him—a darkness that scares me even as it draws me in.