by Zoe Blake
The pad of my thumb teased her clit as I pushed a second finger in deep. “Your body tells me otherwise.”
Her gaze hardened, causing the small flecks of gold within their deep brown depths to shimmer like light on a knife’s edge. “It’s not from your touch. I’m a… I’m… thinking about my… my boyfriend, yes… I’m thinking about my boyfriend.”
I pulled my hand free from her sweet cunt and wrapped it around her neck, pushing up against her jaw. My gaze scanned her face. She quickly averted her eyes. I knew she was lying, but that didn’t stop my jealousy. I had barely touched her, but already considered her mine.
“Tol’ko za eto ya zastavlyu tebya umolyat’ menya o poshchade,” I growled, warning her she would beg me for mercy before I was finished with her.
Before she could respond, I claimed her mouth, wanting to punish those lips for daring to lie to me again and this time about another man. She screamed as her body writhed, but I refused to relent. My tongue swept inside, relishing the scrape of her sharp teeth. Her fists beat on my back, but it only spurred me on.
I angled my head and took her mouth harder, wanting to bruise her lips, needing to taste the tangy sting of her blood on my tongue. My left hand clenched around her throat, quelling her protests. Lust clawed at my insides. I wanted to swallow her last breath. I wanted to banish all thoughts of any other man from her mind, from her body. I pressed my cock against the edge of the bed, seeking some relief from the pain of my erection as I loomed over her, caging her in, trapping her within my embrace.
Never had a woman angered me so completely or so quickly. I should have laughed at her silly attempt to distract me. Instead it fired my blood.
What is it about this woman?
In the end, it didn’t matter.
I wanted her, so I was taking her.
It was that simple.
I would figure out the why later.
Then, like the turn of a coin, she submitted. Her body softened under my touch. Her hands clung to my shirt as she kissed me back with as much fervor as I had kissed her.
I rasped against her neck as my tongue laved her skin, “Chert voz’mi, zhenshchina, ty svodish’ menya s uma.”
She was driving me crazy. One moment she was fucking me with her eyes, the next she was running from me. She lied to my face that she despised my touch. All the while her pussy was wet and ready for me. If I didn’t get control of the situation, of her, she could very well be the death of me.
Breaking free of the kiss, I rose to my full height. Inhaling deeply to calm my thundering heartbeat, I growled more than spoke my command. “Roll onto your stomach.”
She blinked. Her large eyes were clouded with passion. I was pleased her pretty lips were already a deep cherry red and swollen from my kiss. “What?”
“Roll onto your stomach. Now!”
With a start, she obeyed, probably more out of shock than obedience. She pushed her tangled curls away from her flushed cheeks and asked, “Ivan, what are you—?”
“Don’t speak. Pull up your skirt.”
She licked her lips. “Can we please just talk about—”
“No more talk. Do it.”
Her hands shook as she reached down on either side of her hips to grasp the silk fabric of her skirt. She pulled it up a few inches. Teasing me with just a glimpse of her creamy soft skin.
“Higher,” I barked. “I want to see your ass.”
I never made idle threats. I told her I would punish her for lying to me, and I intended to keep my word. She needed to learn there were consequences for her actions.
Finally, she obeyed without further question, pulling the skirt up till it bunched at her lower back. Her perfectly curved ass cheeks were just over a handful and on full display because of the simple black lace thong she wore. At the top of each cheek was a cute little dimple. I couldn’t wait to see her ivory skin crisscrossed with red slashes from the mark of my belt.
I circled the bed as I lowered my arm, letting the leather strap unfurl from around my fingers. “YA khochu uslyshat’, kak ty umolyayesh’ menya stegat’ tebya remnem.”
She sniffed. “I don’t know what you are saying.”
“I want to hear you beg me to whip you with my belt,” I repeated in English. I was a cruel bastard, but I wanted to hear her sweet innocent voice asking me to punish her like the bad girl she was.
She buried her face in the pillow and sobbed.
I raised my voice over her cries. “If you do not, your punishment will be that much more painful. I promise you.”
I was pleased she was afraid. It was obvious she didn’t know how erotic the slash of a leather belt could feel. If I hadn’t been the first to initiate this intoxicating woman into the beautiful art of sexual punishment, I would have had to track down any man who’d come before me and kill him with my bare hands.
Her response was muffled by the pillow. “Please punish me.”
I raised my arm. The first lash of my belt caught her across the soft bottom curve of her ass. She screamed and reared up. With my left hand, I grabbed her by the hair and forced her body back down onto the bed. I lashed her again and again. Her bottom turned a satisfying pink.
“Stop! It hurts!”
Ignoring her plea, I struck her on the underside of her ass, just skimming the tops of her thighs. I wanted her to feel her first punishment from me when she tried to sit down hours after it was done.
“Stop! I have the money! I lied! I have the money! Please! I’ll tell you where it is, just stop!”
I crouched down. Using my grip on her hair, I turned her tearstained face toward me and smiled. “It really is adorable, my malen’kaya kukla, that you still think this is about the money.”
She sniffed. “It’s not?”
I brushed the curls away from her face and stroked her cheek with the back of my knuckles. “No, baby girl. This stopped being about the money the moment you answered the door and opened that sweet mouth of yours.”
Her lips trembled. “Then why are you doing this?”
I stroked her bottom lip with the tip of my finger. “Because I have decided to keep you, and if you are going to be mine, you need to understand there will be rules—and punishments when you break them.”
She leaned up on her elbows, wincing when the movement shifted her hips slightly. The tears in her eyes highlighted the tiny gold flecks hidden in their mink depths. “You can’t do that! You can’t just claim me like I’m some freaking sack of flour!”
I rose to my full height, towering over her. “And who’s going to stop me?”
Chapter 6
Dylan
Before I could respond, he struck my ass with his belt again. The heat from the leather strap raced over my skin like lightning in a storm. There were flashes of burning intensity, followed by a warm rush. Every nerve in my body was alive and humming. The pain increased my awareness of the tiniest details. The feel of the cool satin bedspread against my thighs. The earthy sandalwood scent of his cologne. The sound the leather strap made as it slashed through the air moments before striking my vulnerable ass. The taste of my tears on my lips. My own labored breathing as I tried to anticipate each punishing spank. It all crashed around me, only to settle deep in my belly. Each time his belt made contact, it seemed to cause a vibrating hum between my legs. I clenched my thighs to try to stop my body’s insane response, but it only made it worse.
“Please, stop,” I begged, not sure if I was pleading for him to end the pain or the torment of my confusing response to it.
“You haven’t learned your lesson yet.”
A shocked scream escaped my lips as he tore the flimsy thong panties off my body, their meager protection now gone. There was nothing separating me from his touch.
As he raised his arm yet again, I rolled to the far side of the bed and threw my legs over the edge, ignoring the sharp sting of pain as my punished skin scraped against the rough lace edge of the bedspread. Before I could even stand and make a run for it, I
was wrenched backwards by my hair. My body slammed back onto the bed. Ivan dragged me to the center of the mattress before straddling my waist. His strong thighs crushed the breath from my body.
He placed a fist on either side of my head. I winced as he caught some of my hair under his hands.
As he leaned down, a thick braided silver chain escaped from the open collar of his dress shirt. A Russian Orthodox cross dangled from the center. The unique vertical slash across the base and top of the cross made the religious symbol seem aggressive and ominous rather than peaceful and soothing—or perhaps it was the sin-personified person wearing it?
“Are you trying to piss me off, malen’kaya kukla?”
Heat radiated off his body, enshrouding me in a strange stifling warmth. I licked my dry lips but couldn’t force the words. I shook my head instead.
Two of his fingers traced the silk neckline of my blouse. “Then why are you making me hurt you?”
A tear escaped my eye and slid down into my hair. I tried to blink further tears away as I sniffed, “I’m not, really I’m not.”
He continued to slowly trace the edge of my blouse, moving his fingers up and down in a hypnotizing rhythm. I held my breath, waiting for the fleeting soft brush of his fingertips against my skin as he did so. “Shhh. Don’t cry, my little doll. Everything will be okay—as long as you obey and stop lying to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
His hand paused. After a heartbeat, his fingers dipped into the bottom V of my neckline. They curled into a claw, capturing the fabric. “There you go again—making me hurt you.” His hand wrenched downward, tearing my blouse down the front. I could hear the buttons pinging off the wooden surfaces of the nightstand and headboard as they flew in scattered directions.
Thank God I had put on one of my smooth white cotton bras because of the silk blouse rather than one of my lace bras, otherwise I would be completely exposed to him. My relief was momentary, because he grasped the center clasp of my bra and easily flicked it open. My bare breasts spilled out. I cried out and tried to cover myself, but he was too fast. He snatched both of my arms and stretched them over my head, securing my small wrists in one of his hands.
His right hand palmed my breast. He then rolled my traitorously erect nipple between his index finger and thumb. Without warning, he pinched the delicate nub. Hard.
My hips rose off the bed, almost grinding against the backs of his thighs as I fought his grasp, trying to get away from the pain. “Stop! I’ve told you I have the money. What more do you want from me?”
“I want you to admit your sweet pussy is wet for me right now.”
My cheeks flamed. Even if it was true, I couldn’t possibly admit to something so outrageous out loud. “That… I… it’s… no… you can’t.”
He pinched my nipple again.
I caved. It wasn’t like there was any point in denying it. His fingers had been inside of me. “My pussy is wet for you!”
His hand moved over my breast, testing its weight. “Now admit you want my cock.”
Fuck, were all Russians so freaking blunt?
My gaze traveled down between our bodies to where he straddled my thighs. The fabric of his suit pants did nothing to conceal the massive shaft pressed along the inside of his upper thigh. My eyes widened as I vigorously shook my head. “No. No, I don’t.” This time I wasn’t lying. That thing would tear me in two!
He leaned back and stroked his cock through his pants. “Don’t worry, baby girl. You’ll learn to crave the pain.”
The sight of his strong tattooed hand with those heavy silver band rings around several fingers methodically rubbing his cock was so freaking hot I had to stop myself from begging him to fuck me. What the hell was wrong with me? This was no time for some twisted bad boy fantasy. This man was probably here to kill me, and I was imagining what it would feel like to have him pound into me till I cried for mercy?
This wasn’t me. This was obviously some sort of instantaneous Stockholm syndrome shit. Terror had rattled my brain. “Please, I didn’t steal your money. They sent it to me. I’ll take you to it. I haven’t touched a single dollar. It’s all there.”
He shifted, placing both of his knees between my thighs, forcing my legs open and slightly raising my hips. He ran his hands over my skin, pushing up my skirt. “I’ve already told you, malen’kaya kukla. This isn’t about the money.”
His hands skimmed over my hips to cup my ass. I hissed as his grasp made the heated skin sting all over again.
I threw out my arms, fisting the bedcover to brace myself as he lifted my hips high. “What are you doing?” I cried out in alarm. I had no choice but to place my legs on his shoulders or topple over.
“Tasting you.”
Keeping one arm stretched out, I awkwardly tried to shove my skirt between my legs with the other to cover myself. “I don’t like that sort of thing.” I really didn’t. The only time I’d tried it, it had been uncomfortable and embarrassing, as the one guy I’d dated before Oliver had fumbled and clumsily licked me like a damn ice cream cone. Then Oliver seemed relieved when I said I didn’t want it.
His lips quirked up in a smile. How was it possible that a scar could look so sexy? “That’s because you’ve only ever been with selfish boys who don’t know how to please a woman.”
His warm breath caressed the sensitive skin of my inner thigh before he trailed the tip of his tongue along my leg till he reached my pussy. His sky-blue eyes turned stormy as he captured my gaze. He opened his lips and stretched out his tongue. I was mesmerized as the tip traced the seam of my pussy lips.
He then flicked the tip of his tongue up and down as he pressed more firmly, opening me. He swirled his tongue around my swollen clit, teasing me. After several times, he leaned back to blow gently on my skin. The simple gesture nearly sent me into orbit. Once more he swirled just the barest tip of his tongue around my clit, not fully touching it.
Breathing heavily, I lost all control. “Oh, God, please!” I begged.
I could feel the vibrations of his amused chuckle. Without forcing me to wait any longer, he pressed his tongue fully against my clit, relieving some of the delicious pressure. My hips bucked in his grasp as if I had just been hit with an electric shock. He varied the pressure, first soft, then firm, then soft again as he slowly increased the pace. His tongue moved in ways I didn’t think possible. I could even feel the bristle of his beard, which only increased my pleasure to almost painful dimensions.
“Come for me,” he commanded.
My head lolled from side to side on the pillow, fighting his effect on me. He flicked my clit again. My legs squeezed together, locking his head between my thighs. He pressed his tongue against my entrance, then pushed in, the taunting sensation only making me crave his cock inside me.
“Oh, God,” I moaned.
He growled in response, “Don’t make me ask you twice.”
His tongue flicked my clit once more, and my entire world exploded into a shower of sparkling lights. His fingers dug into my ass, holding me steady as I bucked and screamed my release. All the while, he continued to gently swirl his tongue around my clit. Not too much hard pressure, just enough to keep the orgasm crashing over me.
While I was still dizzy and disoriented, he turned me onto my stomach and flipped my skirt up. Grabbing me by the hips, he pulled me back onto my knees till my ass pushed against him.
This was too much. The euphoria of my orgasm receded as I panicked at the thought of him fucking me from behind. I wasn’t a prude, but I’d only had sex with two men in my life and both were boyfriends, or at least a pseudo boyfriend as far as Oliver was concerned. This man was a stranger… a dangerous stranger who was definitely a criminal if he was in any way, shape, or form involved with my uncle.
I struggled in his grasp, trying to rise. “Wait, no!”
His warm hand caressed soothing circles on my back. “Be a good girl and bend over.”
I swallowed a sob, knowing I was powerless to s
top him.
I buried my head in the pillow and braced myself for the pain of his enormous cock forcefully entering me. He pushed in one finger, then two. My hips reflexively shifted forward, but his hand on my lower back stilled me. He slowly thrust his fingers in and out.
Then he added a third finger.
I bit the pillow as I whimpered. My body strained to accept the width of his three fingers. He increased the pace as the tips of his fingers curled just slightly, adding just the right amount of pressure. My thighs clenched around his wrist. “Oh, God!”
His hand caressed down my back. He then grabbed a fistful of hair and wrenched my head back, arching my body.
My knees slipped open further, which raised my ass even higher.
“I’m not God, baby girl. When you scream, it better be my name and no other.”
He thrust his fingers in harder. My body rocked back and forth, increasing the illicit pleasure. I moaned. He tightened his grasp on my hair. The sting of pain actually increased the already taboo feelings that were swirling in my belly.
The pad of his thumb pressed against my ass. I clenched, but he pressed in.
I tried to turn my head to plead with him over my shoulder, but his grip on my hair would not allow it. “No! Stop… I’ve never!”
“Nikogda ne govori mne «net», ponimayesh’?” he growled as he pushed his thumb in further.
The only thing scarier sounding than the Russian language was a large Russian, with his hand inside of you, growling something at you in Russian. I had no idea what he said, but I certainly caught his meaning. I submitted.
Sweat dripped between my breasts as I bit down so hard on my lower lip I tasted blood. My body was no longer my own. It was his to be used and abused for his pleasure.
He slowly pushed in a fourth finger. When I tried to complain that I was too tight and it hurt, he rasped in my ear, “You’re lucky it’s not my fist.”
My heart stopped at the intense sexual threat. I sucked in my next breath so harshly I choked.
