by SR Jones
“Take off your clothes, leave your underwear on, and come over here. On your hands and knees,” he repeats.
My heart is beating too fast. This isn’t the same as the riding crop. This feels different. Wrong.
He’s angry at me still. Hurt.
“No,” I say.
“Excuse me?”
His brows draw together as his jaw tightens.
“No,” I enunciate more clearly.
“Get on your fucking knees and crawl,” he demands.
“No.” I jut my chin and stare him down, holding his gaze.
I see him thinking. Fuck me, but I think he’s contemplating forcing me to do it.
“Why not?” he asks with exaggerated patience.
“Because all the other times you’ve ordered me to do something, it’s either been to make me feel good, or to make you feel good. This is neither. You only want me to feel bad.”
“You don’t know what the fuck is going on in my head, and you don’t get to question me.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine, leave, there’s a spare room two doors down. Shut the door behind you.”
“No,” I say again. My heart is going so fast, I’m convinced I’ll need medical attention if it keeps it up.
“Cassie, get the fuck out.”
“No. Why do you want me to crawl for you?”
“Because it would have been mildly amusing and hot, and now I’m bored of you and your histrionics, so you can leave.”
“You’re a coward,” I say.
He glowers at me, and I can see the violence simmering under his skin. I want to harness that violence and get him to use it for both our pleasures, but not while he’s in such a dark place.
“You don’t want me to crawl only for amusement; you want me to do it to make me lesser.”
I call him out on his shit, and from his expression, I know I’ve hit the nail on the head. I know that’s why his order felt so wrong and why I couldn’t do it. The moment I articulated it, we both knew that’s why he wanted me to do it.
Why would he do that? I only want him to be more.
I see the moment he accepts what I’m saying as some of the fight goes out of him. His big shoulders relax a notch, his jaw unclenches, and he blows out a breath through his nostrils. “Because you make me feel lesser all the fucking time,” he says.
“I do?”
“Yeah, you fucking do.”
“How? Why? I don’t understand. I’m plain, and boring, and scared, and you’re … you’re … glorious.”
He barks out a laugh. “You don’t act like you think I’m glorious. You act like you think I’m someone who should do better.”
Shit, he’s right. Didn’t I just think I wanted him to be more? I’ve been both putting him on a pedestal and trying to knock him off it from the get-go.
I cross to him now, suddenly aware that he might have hurt me, but I’ve also been hurting him. I do think he can be better, but that’s a shitty way to treat someone. I have to either accept this man as he is, or walk away. I can’t stay by his side, constantly expecting him to change.
The realization hits me hard. All the way through this, I’ve put the barriers between us as purely down to him, but I’ve been building quite a few of them myself. Great big steel barriers made from my belief that he’s better than this deep down. As if he isn’t good enough the way he is.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s not that I think you’re a bad person, or that I want you to be someone else because I disapprove; it’s more that I want you to be safe. I hate that this life always puts you in danger.”
“Cassie, I am what I am. This life never lets you go, not easily anyway. Most people who leave it, they leave in a box.”
The thought makes me shudder.
“Come here,” he pulls me in. “You’re right about one thing.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“I did want to make you crawl to make you lesser, and I’m sorry.”
I don’t say anything for a moment. This is important, and I don’t want to fuck it up. Konstantin is not the sort of man who apologizes often, and I don’t want to take that apology and make it a slap in the face.
“It’s okay. Sometimes I want to make you lesser too because you’re so much. Too big, too handsome, too confident, too rich.”
“Is that why you seem determined to disapprove of all this?” He waves his arm around him.
“No, I disapprove of all this because I see it as trapping you in a dangerous life, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. It’s not about some form of reverse snobbery; it’s about me wanting you free.”
“I am free,” he says with a laugh. “I’m the motherfucking king, Cassie. You don’t get any freer than that. I’m the one who gives the orders, and I clawed my way to being that person. I’m not the one taking orders.”
I get what he’s saying, but I see it differently. “But, if you’re a king trapped in endless wars, then you’re just another soldier at the end of the day. Another potential casualty, which breaks me a little bit every day.”
I’ve admitted how deep my feelings for him run. I don’t expect any such declarations in return, but I hope articulating it won’t make him retreat and put up those walls again. He doesn’t. He pulls me in and kisses me. It’s deep and languid, and I want to drown in it.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he says as he pulls away to kiss at my neck as he talks to me between each soft touch. “Every time I fuck you, I think this might be the time I slake my thirst, but it only makes me want more. I want to fuck you until we’re both unconscious from it.”
“Sounds like a good way to go,” I say with a smile as he licks along my collarbone. I whimper at the sensation as he places a small bite on the skin at the side of my neck. I run my hands down his big body, and for some reason, I say the thought in my head aloud. “I wish I could tame all this power and harness it for a short while. Why is it always you men who get to tie us up?” I muse.
He stills, and I do too. Shit, will he think I’m crazy? I mean, it’s not that kinky, but in Russia he has said before they have very traditional attitudes about male and female roles.
“You want to tie me up?” he asks.
I swallow down a dry throat and nod. I want to feel free to explore him completely without worrying he’s going to flip me over and start us fucking, which I love, but I want him at my mercy for once.
“Yes, I think that might be fun.” I watch him.
He grins. “You can tie me up, Cassie. Go for it.”
I lick my lips. “What would I use?”
“I brought ties. Use your imagination.”
Oh, lord, I don’t know where to start. I’m not someone who has ever done anything like this, but the idea of him all splayed out for me, still and wanting, makes me so damn horny. “Okay, erm, take your clothes off, please,” I say.
“Please? You’re a polite dominatrix.” He laughs.
I turn to look at him, curious. “Have you ever had sex with a dominatrix?”
“No, but I was friends with one once, vaguely. She used to do undercover work for the Russian state. We used her a lot to get intel out of senior politicians. You won’t believe how many politicians are into being beaten up by a sexy woman. She was a blast, but she wasn’t polite. Or hesitant.”
“I’ll try not to be so polite then.” I grin.
He grins back, full and sexy. “No, I like it, it’s hot. It’s…you.”
He stands and takes his clothes off, revealing his powerful, beautiful body. I rummage around in the drawers and find four silk ties. They’re all in bright colors, and I take them across the room to where Konstantin is arranging himself on the bed.
“Erm, put your arms above your head,” I say. “Out to the side. Your legs, as well.”
The lights are dim, and the bed is huge, but he fills it with his arms and legs stretched out, starfish style. His leg muscles are taut, and his arms look huge as he grabs the wooden bed posts. I make qu
ick work of tying his ankles to the posts at the bottom of the bed, and his hands to the posts at the top.
He looks like a glorious present all wrapped up for me. Tan skin, taut muscles, all tied up in silk bows of bright colors. His hard, thick cock is the icing on the cake. I’m so tempted to take a photo because once he sends me packing back to my boring, gray existence, this is one memory I want to keep forever.
I push such sad thoughts away, not wanting them in the air between us here and now. “You look gorgeous,” I tell him.
His cock twitches as I admire him.
“You always liked me for the real me,” he says, somewhat mystifyingly. What else would I like him for?
I don’t know where to start and decide to start at the bottom. I kiss his ankle and then up his shins, placing a tender kiss on his knee, before moving up to his thickly muscled thighs. I kiss both of them and bite gently into the muscle of the right one. His leg twitches, but he doesn’t say anything. I keep moving, going up his body to the hardness of his hip. I don’t go near his cock, except to blow on it. It twitches again, and a bead of clear liquid forms at the tip and runs down his shaft. Tempting, oh-so-tempting, but I’m not going there yet.
I want to torment him first.
Reaching his glorious, flat stomach, I kiss and lick my way across the ridges and dips of his musculature. His skin ripples where I lick and kiss, touch and learn. I’m mapping every wondrous inch of him, using my tongue, my lips, and my fingers.
When I reach his pecs, I lick his flat nipples, and he shivers under my touch. Feeling bold, I nip one between my teeth the way he does to me sometimes, and then I lave it with my tongue. He groans, and I smile to myself, liking the power it gives me. There’s a rush having someone so still under me, waiting for my touch.
I kiss his shoulders, lick his collarbone, and kiss and lick his neck. I nuzzle the skin there, liking the fresh washed scent of him. He must have showered at some point since we arrived here, and he must use the same shower gel here as at home. I recognize the rich, heady scent. No cheap chain store special for Konstantin. Even his shower gel is the very best.
He turns his face and captures me in a quick kiss. I let him, before moving on and trailing my fingers up his arms. When I get to his wrists, I relish the feel of the cool silk against his hot skin. My nipples are pebbled and hard, and he lurches up to take one in his mouth. He sucks hard before letting go with a pop. The action goes right to my core, as surely as if he’d sucked me there too.
I’ve teased him long enough, so I move quickly back down his body until I reach his straining cock. He’s wet around the thick head, and the color is a deep red at the top. I smile before I lick a long stripe up the shaft. He groans, and his arms bunch as he tests his bonds. I tied him tight, but I know he could probably get out of them if he truly wanted.
I tease him for ages, licking, blowing, kissing, but never taking him in my mouth. By the time I’ve got him groaning under me, and leaking for me, I’m soaked myself. Finally, I take him in my mouth and swallow him down as far as I can. It isn’t as far as I’d like because he’s too big, but I use my hand on the remaining half of him, setting up a rhythm.
“Cassie,” he growls with a warning in his tone. “I’m going to come.”
“That’s kind of the idea.” I take my mouth from him to speak and throw him a wink.
“I want to come inside you. The doctor called, we’re fine to not use condoms.”
I stop and look at him.
“Untie me, now,” he orders.
I do as he says, wanting him inside as much as he wants to be there. I take the ties off his ankles first and then his wrists. Once he’s freed, he grabs me and pulls my clothes off. Literally, he tears my dress from me. I liked that dress, but I can’t bring myself to care as it’s so hot when the buttons go flying everywhere.
My bra gets the same treatment, and panties, which he drags roughly down my legs, before pulling me under him, where he wants me.
His mouth captures mine in a fierce kiss, and then he surges inside me. I scream out at the sensation as he thrusts deep to the hilt.
He pauses, panting as he says, “Good scream or bad scream?”
“Good,” I confirm, wrapping my legs around him and digging my ankles into his back.
He doesn’t say anything else, but he fucks me hard and fast. My back inches up the bed from the power of his thrusts. He’s not taking this slow or easy; instead, he’s fucking me the way animals do. I match his ferocity and hunger.
Lifting one leg, he changes the angle of his penetration, and something inside me lights up like a fucking Christmas tree of pleasure. Oh. My. God.
“Jesus,” I pant.
“Sir,” he says.
“What?”
“Call me sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
He’s slowed his thrusts and that amazing feeling, that exquisite spot he found isn’t giving me the same intensity anymore.
“Say, make me come, sir.”
“Yes,” I pant. “Please, make me come, sir. Let me. Please, sir.”
I’m begging and beyond caring.
Konstantin once more hits that spot inside me, and I see stars as he pounds into me. I come with a scream as I rake my nails down his back and bite his shoulder, hard.
When I come back to my senses, I stare in horror at where I bit his shoulder. Shit, there’s a tiny bloom of blood. Oh my God, I didn’t mean to bite him that hard.
“Oh no.” I scramble to get him off me, so I can get him something to clean it up.
“What’s wrong?” he asks lazily, holding me in place.
“You’re bleeding, where I bit you. I’m so sorry, I’ll get something to clean it up.”
“In a minute; stay here,” he says and moves to the side, hauling me into him.
He’s sated. A big beast whose had his fill for now. I love him when he’s like this.
I love him full stop.
One day, I’ll tell him how I feel and ruin this forever.
“You ought to clean that up,” I say, trying to be firm.
“In a bit; stay here,” he mumbles.
He’s pulled out of me, and I’m a sticky mess.. “I ought to clean up as well,” I protest.
His eyes open at that, and he shakes his head. He feels between my legs and gives a satisfied grin. “No. I want you like this all night.”
He kisses my neck and falls asleep holding me.
I stay awake for a long time, until he wakes up and takes me all over again. And through it all, I’m wondering how the hell a person ever gets over a man like Konstantin.
Chapter Fourteen
Bohdan
“The opera?” Damen stares at his wife as if she’s grown another head.
“Yes, darling, the Paris Opera is famous, and I thought it would be fun if we all went. I bought us tickets.”
“All of us?” Damen says, looking around the room at us big, tattooed men, and clearly thinking the same thing I am.
We’re not the sort of people who go to the opera.
“Yes,” she says firmly. “It will be magical. I want to go, and I want Cassie to go too. She deserves something magical, a treat, and I think she’ll love it.”
Cassie isn’t here. Konstantin only appeared twenty minutes ago, and it’s past ten. They were fucking. My room is next to theirs, and I heard them. The girl might not look like much, but she’s clearly dynamite in bed. Maybe that’s why K has lost his head over the little mouse. I see the way he looks at her when she’s not aware of his scrutiny. When she isn’t looking back, and he lets his guard down, K looks at his mouse like he wants to see nothing but her face for the next hundred years. Man has it bad. Trouble is, he can’t admit it.
“Don’t you think it will be nice for Cassie to have a magical memory, Konstantin?” Maya asks with a winning smile. “She’s been through so much, from what I’ve gathered. Sick grandfather, and then the awful nonsense with the Armenians.”
I see K’s face when sh
e says nonsense. It’s a fucking picture. Now, Maya’s appeal, I understand.
She’s not my type, but I get it. The woman is dynamite glamor, sexiness, and an ability to talk to anyone all wrapped up in bows of silks and jewels. I bet she fucks like a champ too.
Then again, so does the little mouse. I would not have put Cassie down as a screamer. Last night changed my views on that. Girl is noisy when she comes. I had to put fucking earplugs in after a while and listen to a meditation tape through my Bose headphones on top of that to drown them out.
“Yes, she does deserve it, Maya; you’re right,” K says. Then he looks around to us and shrugs. “Seems we’re going to the opera.”
“Are the logistics even safe?” I ask.
“It’s the opera,” Maya says as if I’m dense. “I hardly think whoever it is who wants us all dead will turn up at the Paris Opera to do it. It’s not an ideal place to take someone out.”
“Still, we can’t pack,” I say.
“Yeah we can,” Damen says. “I can make it so we can. Don’t worry about that. There’s not much of a threat here in Paris, from all the intel I’ve got.”
I shrug, and then realize I can’t go. Thank fuck. “I can’t go.” I feign great disappointment. “I only brought casual clothes.”
“Oh yes you can.” Maya claps her hands in excitement. “I’ve got a tailor coming today with some ready to wear options, which can be easily altered.” She frowns. “You’re all so tall and big; I hope he has enough larger sizes. There’s a lady bringing twenty different dresses for myself and Cassie to try.”
Cassie appears at the doorway and frowns. “Dresses for what?”
“We’re going to the Paris Opera,” Maya tells her.
I half expect Cassie to not want to go, little mouse that she is, but she does the same clapping thing Maya did a bit ago and jumps up and down on the spot like a child.
“Really?” She looks to K, not Maya, when she asks. She stares at him as if he hung the moon and stars for her. The way she looks right now, flushed, happy … I get it a little bit more.
“Yes, really,” he says.
Then he takes out his phone and places a call. “Dee, hello. How are you?” he says in English.
