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Raw, rampant lust.
He stared down at her, his eyes blazing. His body was hard as granite against her curves, the rigid shaft of his cock pressed against her stomach. There was a fresh cut on his temple, and she had to resist the urge to touch it, to place her lips tenderly against the wound.
He slid his hand into the hair at the back of her neck and yanked hard enough to make her gasp, forcing her to look up at him.
“Something I’ve taken from you? You’ve got that all wrong, Kira. You took from me when you left,” he said.
She swallowed hard, steadied her voice. “What did I take from you?”
“You took an instrument of my power,” he said.
She hated him. Hated him with a viciousness that blinded her to anything else, even the desire flooding her sex, making her wet as she imagined him plunging into her. “That’s all I am to you now? An instrument of power?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “That’s all. It may not sound like much, but it — you — still belong to me. That’s the bargain you struck, the bargain your father struck, and it’s a bargain I expect you to honor.”
She was relieved to feel rage flood her body. It didn’t remove her hunger for him, but it masked it long enough for her to pretend it wasn’t there. “Don’t you dare speak of my father.”
He gave her hair a tug, forcing her head back even further.
She yelped, but it was as much from the shock of the pleasure-pain of it, the fact that it only made her want him more, as it was anything else.
“You don’t seem to understand. Let me spell it out for you, mymalen'kiy sokol.” The old term of endearment —little falconin Russian — sounded bitter coming from the harsh line of his mouth, and her mind tripped over the cognitive dissonance as he reached up, dragged a knuckled down her cheek, his eyes like liquid gold. “I will do whatever I like. Will say whatever I like. Will take whatever I like.”
Her breath stuttered in her lungs as he trailed his fingers down her neck and chest. The tug on her towel was so subtle she didn’t notice until it was gone, nothing between them but his starched shirt, rough and erotic against her nipples, his trousers supple against the mound of her sex.
He cupped one breast in his hands and thumbed her nipple, then pinched it between his fingers.
He dropped his head to her neck and inhaled. She felt his breath like a whisper against the base of her throat, then against her exposed nipple. She was suddenly desperate for his kiss, for the intimacy of his mouth on hers, his tongue, slipping between her lips.
A sigh escaped her mouth against her will. She didn’t even have the strength to curse her traitorous body. She was putty in his hands, desperate for him to close his mouth around her nipple, to suck and lap.
“You are mine, Kira. As much mine as anything in this house. Like everyone in the bratva, you will do as I command.”
“And if I refuse?”
He lifted his head, ran his nose up her neck and along her jaw as his hands slid down her belly. Lust roared through her body as he grazed her mound. He stroked the inside of her thigh and it was all she could do not to beg him to take her.
“If you refuse?” He sounded surprised by the possibility. “Well, if you refuse I’ll simply take what’s mine. It makes no difference to me,malen'kiy sokol.”
“You’ll… you’ll rape me?” She could barely get the words out around her need, was half-afraid she would instead beg him to fuck her then and there. “That’s what you’re saying.”
A low chuckle, hard and mean, escaped his full lips. “Oh, it won’t be rape, my love. It will never be rape.” He slid his hand higher on her thigh, brushed his fingers through the folds of her pussy. “You’ll always be begging for me. Will always be this wet for me, your tight little pussy desperate for my cock. How does it feel to know you still want me so much?”
Her eyes were closed, her head tipped back against the wall, her breath coming in shallow gasps as he stroked his way closer to her clit.
Closer, but not quite there.
“Please…” It was a whimper. A plea.
Somewhere in the still-functioning part of her brain, she hated herself. But the rest of her didn’t care. The rest of her knew he was right, knew she would always want him this much, would always be under the command of his mouth, his fingers, his cock.
“Please what?” he murmured. “Tell me what you want, Kira.”
“I want… you. I want you inside me,” she said as his thumb stroked her clit.
And then he was gone. His hands absent from her body, the chill of the room seeping into her damp skin.
She opened her eyes and found that he’d put a foot of space between them. A wry smile curled his lips, and a triumphant gleam lit his eyes.
