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NATASHA
Day 1 of the rest of my fucking life.
I slam my fists on the mattress. I have to figure out a way to escape this monster’s lair before the wedding day. Once I’m in Dima’s clutches, I’ll never get away. Bosses always have massive security details. He’ll probably shackle me every night for the rest of my life if I tried to run and he caught me. And guys like him always would because they have tons of people at their beck and call. He’d kill anyone who let me bolt.
Dima is all about optics. That’s clear. Pun grudgingly intended.
Getting jilted by his fiancée would be grounds for death. But if I get away now, I might be safe after a while. Nobody but his family and my family knows about his twisted intentions. His ego wouldn’t be shattered. He’d probably look for me, then he’d lose interest and find another way to stick it to my dad.
I fist chunks of my hair. This is utter desperation talking. I don’t really believe the bullshit I’m feeding myself at all. Of course he’ll look for me. And when he finds me, he’ll kill me and everyone in my family, too.
“Motherfucker!” I jump off the plush mattress and stomp across the safe room toward a cluttered desk, my bare feet slapping against the tile. I jut out my arm, sweeping the piles of books and papers onto the floor. I pull down one of the bookcases on the wall next to the desk, jumping aside as the hardcover books crash to the floor. I recoil when the wooden bookcase cracks on impact.
I survey the damage. It’s a good start, but not nearly enough of a mess. I ball my hands into tight fists, my chest rising and falling from the rush of rage flooding my insides. What else can I fuck up of Luka’s?
I stomp over to the flat-screen television and whirl around, my eyes wild as they search for something...anything… Then I spot a bookend on the floor in the middle of the crap pile. My brow furrows slightly when I see that it’s Captain America’s shield. Interesting that he favors Cap, since Luka is a sick and demented criminal, and Captain America is the antithesis of everything Luka stands for.
With a maniacal scream, I hurl the small shield at the center of the television. I clap my hands and giggle like a crazy person when I see the large crack appear on the screen. Seconds later, a loud beep jolts me. I let out a startled gasp when the door to the safe room opens. Luka barrels in like a raging animal, his eyes flaring with annoyance
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He walks over to me and grabs me by the neckline of my shirt. “You don’t touch anything in here, do you understand me? You don’t do anything unless I tell you to.” A ripple of fear knots in my gut when he pulls me closer. “You obey me...or fucking else.”
My chest tightens. A shock of tension coils in my core as I draw in his heady musk. He presses his hand into the small of my back, forcing me tight against his chest. The heavy clunking of his heart matches the beat of my own.
“Fuck you, Luka.”
The vein in his forehead throbs. His gaze takes on a decidedly psychotic glimmer. “You know what will happen if you disobey me, Natasha. You know what I’ll do if you let that mouth of yours say shit it shouldn’t.”
I do. Oh fuck yes, I do.
Sick. I am just as sick as my captor. I should shut up. I should behave myself. I should not rile up the beast. But I want to...so badly. And I decide to do just that, even though everything about my actions screams wicked and perverse.
“Fuck you,” I say again in a tight voice. Lust and heat flood my insides. My pussy clenches, followed by a tingling sensation of the most intense variety. I let my legs fall open the slightest bit, and the corners of his lips curl upward.
He flips me around and shoves me against the wall opposite the book mess. My hands slap against the drywall, a rush of breath expelling from my lungs at the force. His fingers twist and tangle in my hair, his other arm wrapped tight around me. “You’re gonna pay for that mouth.”
My eyes flutter closed.
Yes! Take me, please! Like the caveman I know you are!
Blood rushes between my ears and drowns out the weak protests that clutter the corners of my mind.
He kidnapped you...and spied on you.
He assaulted your family...and violated you.
Now he’s doing it again…and I want him to.
The arguments for why every cell in my body should not be turned on right now fade to white noise as lust crashes over me and consumes every last reservation in its path.
Oh, God, this is such delicious torture.
A whisper of cool air chills my prickled flesh when he drops his hands to my waist and runs them over my hips. He slides my shorts down to my ankles, sinking to his knees behind me. His rough touch sizzles my skin, the pads of his fingertips leave erotic sparks in their devious wake. He takes his time pulling off the shorts — slowly and maddeningly, to the point where I almost cry out and beg him to do what my body so deeply craves.
I arch my back, his tongue sliding up the column of my spine as he straightens up. His thick cock presses against me, and a moan slips from my lips before I can swallow it.
“Are you going to talk back to me again? Or do I need to punish you?”
“I’m not afraid of you.” My voice quivers, but it’s with need, not fear. “And you don’t get to threaten me.”
