Page 39 of Cruel Submission

Instead, I spread my fingers wider, claiming more of her. The fabric of her sleep shirt is thin—too thin. I can feel the heat of her skin underneath, the slight rise and fall of her breathing.

“I dreamed about Debra,” she whispers.

Guilt crawls up my throat. I swallow it down.

“Tell me about the dream,” I say, because I’m a bastard who needs to know how close she’s getting to the truth.

“She was calling for me.” Mirabel’s voice breaks slightly. “Saying my name over and over. Like she needed me, and I couldn’t reach her.”

My jaw clenches. Too close. She’s too fucking close to figuring it out.

“There’s nothing you could have done, zaychik,” I say, because it’s true.

“I know.” But her voice says she doesn’t believe it. Says she’ll never stop reliving that day. “I just… I couldn’t stay in my room. Couldn’t be alone with it.”

So she came here. To me.

The thought does something primal to my chest. Makes me want to lock her in this room and never let anyone else touch her. Keep her safe from my father, from the trafficking operation, from the complex filth of my world.

From the truth about her sister.

“You’re here now,” I tell her, my mouth against her temple. “That’s what matters.”

She shifts in my arms, turning to face me. The movement brings her body flush against mine—soft curves against hard muscle, her sleep shorts riding up so her bare thigh slides between mine.

My cock goes fully hard.

She feels it. I know she does by the way her breath catches, the way her pupils dilate in the dim light.

“Arkady—”

I don’t let her finish. My hand fists in her hair, tilting her head back, and I take her mouth.

The kiss is nothing gentle. I’m done with gentle. Done with pretending there’s any distance left between us. My tongue invades her mouth, and she opens for me with a sound that’s half gasp, half moan.

Her hands come up to my chest, nails scraping over my skin. The sting of it sends heat racing down my spine.

I roll us, pinning her beneath me. My hips settle between her thighs, and I grind against her, letting her feel exactly how hard she makes me.

“This what you came for?” I growl against her mouth. “Couldn’t sleep, so you came to get fucked?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. No shame. Just raw honesty that makes something dark and possessive rear up in me. “Yes.”

Blyad.

My hands go to her sleep shirt, bunching it up. She arches to help me pull it over her head. Nothing underneath. Just bare skin and peaked nipples that tighten further under my gaze.

I lower my head, teeth closing around one nipple. Hard enough to make her hiss. Hard enough to leave a mark.

“Arkady—”

“You want gentle?” I move to her other breast, biting down. “Wrong fucking man, zaychik.”

“I don’t want gentle.” Her hips buck against mine. “I want you.”

The words obliterate what’s left of my control.

I hook my fingers into her shorts and panties, dragging them down her legs. She kicks them off, already spreading her thighs wider, making room for me.