Page 31 of From Russia With Blood

Her pussy spasms about my shaft as I bottom out, so I pull back and smack her ass for several moments, rekindling the pain from my belting, breaking up the pleasurable sensations. I don’t want her getting off so quickly. Again, my head throbs as lethargy fills my body. Adrenaline begins to wear off as I once again fill her cunt with my cock.

Groaning, I wrap my fingers around her throat again, cutting off her air supply as I howl in pleasurable agony. My balls tighten again, and I empty myself deep inside her. Grinding up against her ass, her pulse stutters against my palms. After several moments, her body goes limp in my arms, and I pull out, even though I’m still stiff as a board.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I feel for her pulse, relief filling me as it flutters against my fingers. With a gasp, her eyes fly open, their ice-blue depths full of recrimination. Clarity begins to seep in, driving away the fog from my brain. I didn’t go nearly as hard as I planned, and maybe that’s a good thing. Usually, I’m consent all the way, but this time, I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t stop.

Katrina paid the price.

Guilt churns deep in my gut as I pull back and look her over, examining her body in the waning light. All thoughts of the storm leave my brain as I look at the small bruises marring her body, coupled with the dark stripes across her ass. Normally I like to show off my handiwork and view marks as a badge of honor, but not like this. The pounding intensifies as I tug at the ropes, freeing her as fast as I can.

She doesn’t move. Instead, she turns to me fully and spreads her legs again, motioning for me to come closer. She winces as her ass scrapes against the seat, and it makes my heart soar. Pulling her into my arms, I slide back in, groaning at the friction of her skin against mine. Her words are soft and nonsensical as she spurs me forward. This time, I don’t deny her. I slip my fingers in between us and play with her clit, letting her ragged moans soothe me.

It’s much gentler this time, more of a meeting of minds as well as bodies. I rake my nails down her back, needing her to feel that bite of pain, to know that the monster still lurks inside. With a raspy groan, she arches into me, delighting in my treatment of her. The storm is forgotten. No one else enters our bubble. It’s just her and I.

Rocking my hips against hers, I ride her hard, delighting in her pussy rippling against me. She’s close. So very close. Redoubling my efforts, I continue to pluck and strum her body, letting her whimpers and moans guide me. When she comes, she cries out and wraps her legs around my hips, keeping me deep within her. After several moments, I go again, groaning at the soreness of having orgasmed so close together.

I lay her back onto the seat and cover her with my body, closing my eyes as I inhale her deep into my system. Moments go by, and the headache stops. Everything changes as it becomes too loud, too much. I stare down at Katrina underneath me, her lips pulled up into a soft smile, and I still. When did I get here?

Leaning back, I rake my fingers through my hair, rubbing at my scalp in furious strokes. I need to remember. Why can’t I remember? The last thing that I can dredge from my mind is leaving her room last night. Everything after that is a blur. Gripping her hips, I pull out, letting our combined fluids slide out of her and onto the floor.

What the fuck just happened? My dick is limp and sore, like when I was a teenager and constantly beat my meat, never satisfied until I could no longer get it up. How many times have we had sex? Her brows knit in confusion as she looks up at me. Glancing about the space, I note the rope hanging from tie-downs on the wall and look back at Katrina.

That’s when I see the red marks and the beginning of bruises on her neck. Did I cause those? I don’t usually do breath play unless it’s someone I’ve known for a while, just because things can go wrong fast. Yet, here she is, wearing what I can assume are my marks around her throat. The urge to check in on her, to make sure I didn’t damage her, is strong, but not stronger than the guilt rising up like bile.

I need to get out of here. Since getting on this ship, nothing’s been okay. I need to stick with the original plan of staying in my room until we get to Russia. That way, I don’t hurt anyone. Reaching for my pants, I feel around for my gun, relieved when I don’t find it. That’s the last thing I need. At least with my gun securely downstairs, I know I didn’t kill someone.

Muttering half-hearted apologies, I leave her there, her eyes boring into me as I run like a coward. She would only be half-right. It’s not complete cowardice that has me running like death is after me. I want nothing more than to protect her, and I can’t do that when I’m balls deep inside her body. She does something to my brain that shorts it out, and the longer I’m with her, the less sane I am.

Chapter 11

Katrina

Emptiness fills my core as I watch Jackson walk away. Tonight didn’t go nearly as I planned, but he gave me another taste of his darkness. It was a different flavor than last night, but no less erotic. The fact that he left me afterward not only ruins what I thought was a great moment but makes me question what the hell even happened between us.

My clit throbs as pain sparks along my ass. I’ve been spanked before, but nothing like this. He was like a man possessed. Memories of him taking what he wanted with no remorse floods my brain. Was it something I did? Should I have seemed more willing? Less? I look back out of the window, the waves seeming less threatening in comparison. The setting sun glints off the icebergs, lighting them with fire. Shivering, I force my gaze to stay on them.

I’m not going to let my imagination rob me of enjoying the sheer beauty before me. Beauty I hoped to keep sharing with Jackson. My lips tug down for a moment as I lay my fingertips against the cold glass. I’m letting myself get far too involved with these strangers. What happened to whoring it up? I should be looking for another play partner and not feeling sorry for myself.

I know it’s not going to happen, though. Deep down, I know this. It doesn’t make it any easier to swallow, but knowing it will all be over in less than two weeks helps. If I can keep a tight grip on my heart and sanity, then everything will be okay.

“I can’t believe he just left you here.” Luka’s voice skitters along my spine, and I’m confronted with the fact that I’m naked in front of yet another stranger. Cupping my hand over my breasts and mound, I turn to begin gathering my clothes.

He says nothing but instead hands me my shirt and then my pants. Wincing, I pull everything on and stand before him. As much as the fantasies from earlier were hot, I’m not in the mood to have my chain yanked from yet another man. I want nothing more than to go upstairs, have my second allotted drink, and nurse my wounds by myself in a hot bubble bath.

Instantly, memories of Luka and me in a warm bath flood my brain. It seems so real. Everything blurs for a moment as dreams and reality swirl in my brain, leaving me confused and aching. I know I just got off, but seeing Luka standing there, exuding an arrogance that belies his casual stance, I’m finding myself drawn to him.

Besides, Jackson left. He obviously doesn’t care what I do now that he’s gone. With a small smirk, Luka extends his hand towards me, and I study it for a moment, unsure of what to do. If I choose to play with Luka, that will be like telling Jackson I don’t want him anymore. But does he still want me?

Thinking back to my limits, I recall putting down feelings. It’s too soon to get caught up in this petty high school shit. Jackson obviously doesn’t know what he wants, or it would have been both of us going back to his room. I take Luka’s hand, shivering at his cold touch. Like fire and ice.

He leads me through the throngs of people, all of them too caught up in their own worlds to care about mine and how it’s crumbling around me with every step. Like an idiot, I let my heart get involved. I knew better. I coached myself through this. Yet, here I am, mourning the loss of someone who doesn’t even give two shits about me. We’re well past the play area before I notice us going deeper into the bowels of the ship.

Unease winds around my heart as we step deeper into the shadows. I want to scream, to cry out for help, but find that I’m unable to do so. Something deep inside me controls everything, and I can’t fight it. Closing my eyes, I send a silent plea to Jackson. Perhaps if he feels anything at all, he’ll come back and find me missing.

“Cold, dear?”

I don’t even realize I’m shivering until his icy hands slide up and down my arms. At least they’re comforting - so much more tender than his dream self - but maybe that’s what I need right now? Tears prick at my eyes as he leads me into another room. One of the coffins stands in the center, gleaming under the massive amounts of candles lighting the space.