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Wiping my eyes, I took a few deep breaths to steady my heart rate and clear my head. If I could pleasure him, then perhaps my body would get a break. I could try and claim a little bit of control over this situation.
When I opened the door, Gavril was still sprawled out across the bed, his member half-aroused already. He had stamina unlike anything I’d ever seen before.
“Would you like a massage?” I asked, leaning against the door frame, hoping I looked sexier than I felt.
Gavril opened one eye, looking me up and down where I stood. Then, he shrugged, and I took that as a yes.
I started with his calves, running my three middle fingers along the thick muscle, working from his ankle to the back of his knee. After a few minutes, I moved up to his thighs, spreading my fingers wide and massaging the heel of my palm into him. I noticed him growing harder and harder as my fingers worked up his legs and around to his inner thighs.
I was paying extra attention to the thick cord of muscle that wrapped from his hip to his leg when suddenly, he reached down, grabbed my waist, and pulled me up on top of him until I was straddling him. He quirked an eyebrow at me and looked down at his member, a hint that he was ready for me to begin massaging something else.
My fingers slowly traveled up his midsection, feeling the mountains and valleys of his abs before cupping his strong pecs. Honestly, this part was for me. As cruel as he could be, Gavril was a gorgeous specimen, and I wanted to enjoy the parts of him I could.
Apparently, I wasn’t moving quickly enough for him though. He grabbed my hand from his chest and hauled it down towards his length, wrapping my fingers around his thick base. I slid down his body and swirled my tongue around him quickly for lubrication, and then began sliding my hand up and down in a slow, steady rhythm.
At some point, I began crying again. I didn’t realize it until Gavril sat up and grabbed my hand again, this time dropping it onto the bed.
“I expected you to cry during sex, not now,” he said, annoyed.
I sniffled and wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Just save the tears for when they are appropriate.”
What did that mean? Did he want me to cry during sex? What kind of twisted monster wanted to have sex with a crying woman? The sadness inside of me curdled into disgust.
Gavril sighed and pushed me off of him. He slipped on his boxers and then his jeans.
“That is enough for tonight. I’ll have the guard take you to your room.”
“We’re done?” I asked, surprised.
He nodded. “But if you want to save your brother, tomorrow better be more enjoyable than this.”
I pulled my clothes on as quickly as I could and left his room. A man with shaggy brown hair and a tattoo across his neck and part of his chest was standing in the hallway. I didn’t recognize him. Gavril must have given the man his instructions while I was in the bathroom because as soon as I stepped into the hallway, he gestured for me to follow him and led me into the room next door.
It was a guest bedroom with a four-poster bed, white linens, and little else. I tried to close the door behind me, but the man held it open.
“I keep eyes on you,” he said, talking as if he had only the barest understanding of the English language.
“You’re serious?” I asked.
He nodded and proceeded to stand in the doorway, making it impossible for me to shut the door.
I turned away from the man and tried to ignore his presence as I pulled back the white comforter and sheets, but I felt his eyes on me like a physical touch. Slimy fingers moving over my body.
I closed my eyes in a half-hearted attempt to fall asleep, but the events of the day paired with the strange man’s presence made it impossible. A few times I cracked one eye open to find him staring at me from the doorway. His gaze made me uncomfortable, but I hoped that because I was Gavril’s, he wouldn’t touch me. That thought was the only comfort I could find in the situation, and somehow, I managed to drift into a restless sleep.
Chapter Seven
Samantha
Gavril’s house was massive. His kitchen alone was the size of my entire house. Everything was shiny granite, stainless steel, and white tiles. I had to assume he did little of the actual cooking and cleaning. But when I walked into the kitchen (a different guard than the one the night before following closely behind me), I found a full spread of eggs, bacon, and toast with chopped fruit, with no sign of any cooks or maids. In fact, the kitchen was still pristine. It didn’t look like anyone had cooked in it at all.
