by Raven Dark
“Don’t get too comfortable with him, Aurora,” she says. “I know his plans for you are long term, but I also know Micheal. He gets… bored easily. No woman holds his attention for long.”
The words send a chill up my spine. Since Michael can’t just release me without risking his exposure, there’s only one other way that what’s happening between us can end.
I manage to keep my face deadpan. “Speaking from personal experience, Katerina?”
Her eyes avert, only for a fraction of a second, but it’s long enough. Her mouth tightens. The sadness that flickers across her face makes it clear I was right. There was something between them once.
“Just trust me, girl. He can’t keep his hands off you now, but it won’t last, no matter how hard you try to be what he needs.”
I can’t tell if she’s trying to insult me personally, or if she’s implying that no woman can measure up to him.
“Is that all?” I say sweetly.
“Enjoy the rest of your stay, Miss Romano.”
Shit, I hate that woman.
I leave her at the front door and drift down the hall, her words making a mess of my thoughts.
She’d said Michael gets bored easily. I’m not looking forward to living my entire life under his thumb, but what will happen if he decides that whatever novelty I hold for him has worn off?
A few minutes later, while making my sandwich in the kitchen, I’m so preoccupied with that question that I don’t hear Jo come in. I jump when she touches me on the shoulder.
As soon as I look at her, Jo’s eyes flick to the caller, but then quickly redirect to my face. I get the distinct impression, by the way she’s holding my gaze, she’s pretending the thing isn’t there at all. An upsurge of affection for her wells up, especially after Katerina’s reaction.
“Afternoon, sunshine. How are you doing?” She gives me a big, but strained smile. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. “Sorry I startled you.”
My heart tugs for her. She’s probably been worried about her sister. The conversation I heard between her and Michael floods back, along with concern at the idea of her accepting that man’s help. Still unsure if I dare stick my nose in, I look away and bite my lip. “You okay, Jo?”
“You heard.” She sets a bowl of apples on the counter.
I nod, peeling open the package of sliced corned beef from the fridge. “Yeah. My mother had cancer before she died. I’m sorry. It’s tough.”
“Oh yeah.” She squeezes my hand. “But Alicia will be fine now. Thanks to Mr. Volkov.”
I worry my lip a little more. My face feels like it’s lost all the blood in it. “It’s…it’s nice that he’s trying to help your sister.”
She peers at my face. “Then how come you look like I just signed my death warrant?”
I focus on spreading Mayo on the sandwich. Adding Mayo to a corned beef sandwich is probably a cardinal sin, but I love it.
Jo sets her hand gently on my shoulder. “You’re worried he’s trying to manipulate me.”
Picking up the mustard slowly, I squirt a healthy amount on and press the bread slices together. I don’t know how to answer without causing more trouble for her.
Jo moves over to the sink and sets the bowl of apples in, turning the water on. “Mr. Volkov isn’t doing anything for me that he wouldn’t do for any of his staff.” She rolls the apples under the water, washing them thoroughly. “He gives to a lot of people, millions a year to those who need it without expecting anything in return.”
“I’m sure he does. It’s just…” I lick my lips and lean on the counter, facing her. “Look, Joanne, I don’t want to sound like I’m stirring up trouble, but… My father is a big philanthropist. He gives a lot to the community. He had a wing built onto a hospital in New York and gave them a lot of much needed expensive equipment. He gives to every charity there is, and he’s had shelters for the homeless built there. People adore him. They think he’s a gift from God. But when he gives anything, it’s never out of the goodness of his heart. As soon as my father gives anyone anything, he owns them.”
Jo nods slowly, processing my words as she hunts up a peeler. “His help always comes with a catch.”
“Yes.” I nod to the apples. “You want help peeling those?”
“Not a chance. You’re a guest, and no guest lifts a finger in my kitchen. If I’d known you wanted a sandwich, I’d have made it for you.”
I take a bite and she smiles warmly.
“I get what you’re saying,” she adds, returning to our discussion about Michael helping her sister. “I know what a lot of people think of Mr. Volkov. They think he’s is a big scary guy who does nothing but exploit others. That he shakes the hands of kings by day and murders babies by night.”
It’s difficult to hold my tongue here, but I don’t want to come off as a bitch. Michael’s money is probably the only option she has of saving Alicia’s life. Especially with the extra cost of a divorce hanging over Alicia’s head. One of my friends at work went through that, and I know how expensive they can get.
“You have no idea how much Mr. Volkov does for others,” Joanne says now. “It’s not just me.” She peels an apple, letting the long strip of bright green fall into the bowl.
I shake my head. I like this woman too much to keep my thoughts to myself anymore. “That doesn’t fit with the Michael I know.”
She smiles sadly. “I know. If you knew what he went through for most of his life, you wouldn’t think that.”
My heart stutters, taking in the implications in her words. Again, the questions loom. What the hell happened to him to make him this way?
Jo rubs my hand. “Listen, Aurora. Mr. Volkov isn’t the monster you think he is. One day, I hope you get the chance to see that.”
I open my mouth to speak, but she doesn’t give me the chance. “Didn’t get enough apples.” She looks at the bowl filled with apples, probably for pies. “Better go get some more.”
She’s gone before I can speak again.
Damn it, I hope the hell I’m wrong, because if he’s is trying to trap her, I’ll murder his ass.
I’m about to head to the library to read while I enjoy my sandwich when a scratching sound at the side door to the outside makes me turn.
“What the hell?”
A dog’s soft whining drifts from the other side of the door, then more scratching.
Careful not to set of that stupid collar, I open the door and step back, keeping a good distance from the threshold. A smile spreads across my face. “Well, hello there.”
There’s a dog the size of a small bear standing on the side step. I bend down, letting him sniff my hand. He licks my hand and then nuzzles closer. “And who might you be, handsome?”
He’s beautiful, with a thick coat of snowy white fur and paws as large as my hand. His head is almost to my waist, and he has the eyes of a wolf, dark and intelligent. I don’t know a lot about dog breeds, but I’m fairly sure he’s a Husky.
“Who’s a pretty boy?” I rub his coat and he puts his paws on my knees, licking my face. “Awwe.” I laugh. “Yes. You are a sweet pretty boy. What’s your name? Huh?” I check the collar around his neck. The name “Wolf,” is carved into the silvery tag. I don’t see his owner’s name on the collar, though.
If Wolf belonged to Michael, surely I would have seen him around the lodge before now.
I stand, intending to call for Michael, but freeze, looking at the dog. The idea that hits me makes my heart hammer against my chest. My eyes catch sight of Jo’s notepad on the counter, along with a pen.
I snatch up the pad, licking my dry lips. The lodge’s address is on the top of the page. Personalized stationary. If I could scribble a note and slip it into the dog’s collar…
Again, I glance at Wolf, thinking fast. His tail is wagging, tongue lolling out adorably. Assuming the dog isn’t Michael’s, all I would need is to scribble one word for his owner to see.
Help.
But if Michael catches me…
The memory of those flashes of pain across my thighs shatters my resolve.
I cave, slapping the pad and pen on the counter without writing a word. My own weakness makes me sick.
“Michael?” My voice shakes, no matter how hard I try to keep it upbeat and casual. I stroke Wolf’s fur, soothing my fear. When Michael doesn’t appear, I call out again and offer Wolf a few slices of meat from the corned beef packet. He sniffs it, but backs up without so much as licking it.
“You bellowed, kravitsa?” Michael sticks his head in the entrance from the hall.
“We have a visitor.” I nod to the dog.
“Shit. You again.” Michael shakes his head, coming around the island toward the dog and me. “Wolf, get outta here.” He sounds irritated, but I notice the amused twist of his mouth. He kicks his foot out, pushing the dog gently toward the door.
Wolf doesn’t move, instead pawing at Michael’s hand.
“Whose is he?” I ask, waving the meat temptingly in front of the animal.
Michael swats my hand away and toes him toward the door. “He’s Jack’s dog. A hunter who lives a few miles from here. Wolf, git. Go on. Go find Jack.”
Then his eyes fall on the pad of paper on the counter. He gives me a shrewd look. He’d seen me trying to feed the dog when he came in.
“You wouldn’t have been up to no good in here, would you, little traitor? Wolf, come here.” He tugs the dog forward, squats, and slips his fingers inside the collar. Checking around it for a slip of paper.
Blood rushes to my head. If I’d tried to leave a message for Jack there, Michael would have found it. And in minutes, I’d be up in that kink chamber, howling in pain.
When Michael doesn’t find anything on the dog that shouldn’t be there, he nods up at me. “Smart girl.” He pushes Wolf toward the door. “Davai, Iz. Go on, dog. Out.”
Wolf whines sadly, but wanders back outside. Michael shuts the door and locks it.
“Why didn’t you let me feed him?” I munch on the corned beef, letting the blood racing in my veins die down.
“He’s a hunting dog, Aurora. They’re trained to eat only from their master’s hand.” Michael snatches one of the cuts of meat from me and slips it into his mouth. “Plus, you should never feed corned beef to a dog. It’s too salty for them.”
“Oh. Well, where’s Jack? What’s Wolf doing here?”
He shrugs. “He must have gone into town. Wolf sometimes gets loose and comes here. I’ll have to—”
The door chime to the lodge echoes in the hall.
“That’s probably him now.” He squeezes my elbow, then strokes the collar on my neck. “You stay put. Don’t let Jack see you with that thing on.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want your neighbors to think you’re a kidnapper or anything.”
Michael flashes me a smile before he heads for the front door. “Keep your nose clean Aurora. Don’t give me a reason to use this.” He pats the pocket of his blazer where the remote control to the collar is hidden.
The man has no shame. No shame at all.
Michael finds me in the library reading a few minutes later. I look up from the lounge chair as he shuts the doors.
“Jack gone?” I ask lightly.
“He is.” Michael crosses the room to me slowly. “Tell me something, Aurora.”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Did you think about it?”
I blink up at him, unsure what he’s talking about.
He takes the tablet I’m reading from out of my hand and sets it aside, then seizes my wrist and pulls me to my feet. “Did you think about leaving a message in the dog’s collar?”
I swallow hard. There’s no good way to answer that. After what I did when the sheriff had stopped by, he probably wouldn’t believe me if I said no. If I told him yes, he might view that as grounds for punishment.
“And if I did?”
He steps close enough that his warm breath fans my face while his fingers brush the collar’s strap. “Don’t play with me, Aurora.”
I drop my arms. “Fine. I thought about it, yes. But I didn’t do it. Are you going to become the thought police now?”
A slow, dangerous smile pulls at his mouth. His palm slides across my cheek until it cups the side of my neck. The pad of his thumb swipes over my lips. The heat that shoots through me weakens my knees. My nipples graze his chest through my shirt, making them ache until they’re pin-prick hard.
“So mouthy. I love it.” He jerks me against him, his palm gripping my nape. “Why didn’t you do it, Aurora?”
Again, there’s no good way to answer, so I say nothing.
“Were you too scared? Hmm?” His mouth draws close to mine, teasing my lips with heat without touching.
My hands have somehow ended up on his chest. My nails dig in, and I grit my teeth. “Yes.”
At my admission, his cock jerks against my stomach. He lets out a hungry groan before his lips descend on mine.
Shit, the bastard gets off on my fear. Unfortunately, my nipples are hard as pebbles, and wetness slicks my sex. What does it say about me that excitement is racing through my veins like fire?
I try to turn my head away, and his grip tightens on my nape while his other arm bands around my waist, caging me against him. His mouth savages mine.
My fists grip the front of his blazer, and I’m panting into his mouth. I should be trying to close my mouth, but instead, it opens for him. My knees threaten to fold.
Michael’s tongue spears in, mating with mine. His hand slides down to my ass, pulling the pencil skirt he chose for me up toward my waist. His lips leave mine, trailing heat across my cheek to my ear while the hand on my ass slides around to my front. He shoves his fingers into the front of my lace panties.
I jolt at the raw heat that shoots through me with one stroke of his fingers. He moans at the wetness that coats them.
“When will you learn, kravitsa?” His mouth brushes my ear. “You’re never getting away from me.”
Instinct takes over. I try to step back before his need can utterly consume me. Michael pins me to him, his fingers mercilessly chasing my clit. He cups my pussy, and I whimper, my hips rocking into his touch of their own accord.
“Already soaked. Greedy little traitor.” He bites my ear. The pain goes right to my core.
Anger at that name roars through me. Not for the first time, he sounds like the bully I knew all those years ago. Only back then, he’d called me something else. Something I’d never forget, and I still didn’t know why.
“Damn it, Michael—”
“Shut up.” His mouth bruises mine, his tongue lapping at my lips. Every lick makes me wetter, so wet that his fingers are slick as they swirl around my throbbing core and over my clit.
At last, his fingers slide away, only for him to grab my ass and crush me against him until I can feel every inch of his hard cock against my belly, even through my skirt.
Damn, I’ve never wanted him inside me like I do now.
As though he’s aware of this, he turns, and with his mouth still ravaging mine, he rushes me to the side of the room to a table there. He lifts me up without effort and plops me onto it.
My thighs hardly hurt most of the time now, but the impact against the table stings a little. I whimper against his mouth.
He lifts his head, his lips twitching. “Hurt?”
“Would that stop you, Sir?”
“No.”
I grip the edge of the table, my nails digging into the wood. “Then why bother asking?” But I know why. He likes seeing me suffer, the fucker.
Michael pries my legs apart, traps them in place with his hips and grabs my knees, jerking me against him until his cock is pressed firmly against my sex. “Take your shirt off.”
I jerk the shirt over my head, dropping it to the desk. Doing what I’m told, but nothing more.
When I’d dressed this morning, he’d included bra and panties, something he doesn’t always do. If there was any question
as to why he did it today, the way his eyes burn eliminates any doubt. He cups my breasts in his palms, sucking in a breath. His eyes burn like teal fire.
“You look so sexy in this thing.” He slides the straps slowly from my shoulders, then pushes the lacy bra down so that my breasts spill out into his hands.
My jaw clenches with the effort not to respond to his touch. The pads of his thumbs flick my nipples, circling them until they turn so hard they hurt.
“So fucking perfect.” When he steps back a pace, I look between his legs. His cock tents the front of his pants, a long, thick rod that makes my pussy tighten.
Another few flicks of his thumbs on my nipples, and my back arches, pressing them closer to him. A rumble of approval vibrates in his chest.
“I watched that video of you drilling your tight little pussy over and over last night, you know that?”
The words should piss me off, but instead, the idea that this huge hunk of Russian man spent the night getting off while watching me finger fuck myself makes me feel incredibly sexy.
His warm palm slides up between my breasts, heating my chest and sending my body temperature so high I’m dizzy with need.
My eyes slide closed.
He grabs my hair and yanks my head back. Then he bends with a groan and sucks one nipple into his mouth.
Pleasure makes my toes curl. A wail escapes me. I try to twist free, but his grip on my hair tightens enough to make me wince and he rumbles a warning. I go slack, and his tongue lashes my nipple before he sucks on it hard, then flicks it again.
“Michael, Jesus.”
He hums in triumph, then sucks and flicks his tongue over the other nipple. When he must think I’ve had enough torture, he lifts his head.
“I wish you had tried to send that message with that mutt.” His face is hard and unforgiving above mine. Both of his hands slide over my waist to my ass, pushing me against him so that, once more, his cock is right up against my sex. “I like how you sound when that cane hits you.”
