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Panic seizes me, driving all thoughts of technique out of my mind. All I can do is react, and I do, clawing at his shirt, kicking and squirming as I try to get him off of me. I feel his weight shift, and I twist out from beneath him, wrenching us to one side in an effort to get him on his back so I can slip out of his hold and run for the door again.
Instead, we end up rolling together, over and over as we grapple for supremacy. He curses aloud, trying to get a grip on me, but that one moment of surprise at the very beginning has kept him a step behind, always on the defensive as I try to escape him. I feel his weight bearing down on me when he gets me on my back again, trying to keep from giving me even an inch, and I rear up, smacking my forehead against his.
It hurts.Fuck, does it hurt, and it leaves me dizzy, but it does the same to him. I feel him falter, and I lunge forward, sinking my teeth into his neck as I claw and kick beneath him, taking as much advantage as I can of the moment to get him off of me. The moment I feel space between our bodies, I bring my leg up, my shin smacking against his balls again.
He sinks forward, groaning, just as I knew he would–but his momentum is lost. I rally every bit of strength I have, shoving him off me to one side, my heart pounding as I scramble to my feet and rush for the door.
I’m so close.It’sso close. Within reach. I can hear him behind me, but I can’t look, can’t think about anything except getting to that door. It feels like a dream, the ones where your feet are weighed down and you’re moving in slow motion, unable to get to the thing you so desperately need. I can feel tears streaming down my cheeks, my entire body throbbing with pain, but all I have to do is twist that knob and I’m one step closer to freedom.
My hand touches it. I can feel cold metal under my palm, ready to twist. My breath catches in my throat, astonished at how close I am. How far I’ve gotten.
And then I feel a heavy arm go around my waist.
I’m weightless for a moment, as if I’m sailing through the air as he lifts me, swinging me around towards a desk by the window. All the air is knocked out of me for a third time as he slams me down on my stomach, bent over the desk, my cheek pillowing hard against the wood. It’s cold everywhere, and it reminds me that I’m naked, that I’ve been naked this entire time, my breasts crushed against the desk, the edge of it digging into my stomach just below my ribs.
“Suka,” Mikhail growls, kicking my legs apart. I feel his body leaning over mine, his clothes rubbing against my bare skin, a reminder of how exposed I am, how vulnerable. How easily he could hurt me–how much hehashurt me already. What he could do to me.
Something kindles deep in my belly at that, a flare of something that should be anger or hate or resentment, but it’s not. It’s something darker and much more wrong, a desire that I know I shouldn’t feel. A need that I shouldn’t indulge.
He rubs against me, the soft material of his joggers in direct juxtaposition to the hardness of his cock beneath them, pressing against my bare pussy as he insinuates himself between my legs. He groans, low and hungry as he pushes his cock against me, one hand on my waist and the other on my upper back, holding me pinned down.
“Feel that,devochka?” Mikhail growls, his hips rocking against me in a lewd imitation of the threat he’s delivering. “Even when you’re a bad girl, you get my cock so hard for you. Maybe even more than when you’re a good girl.”
His hand skims over my hip, squeezing. “I like you like this. Naked, with my cum still on your skin, still stuffed inside of you. I should keep you like this all the time.”
Fuck.It shouldn’t turn me on. His thick accent shouldn’t rub over my skin like velvet, making me feel as if I want to arch into him, spread my thighs wider, satisfy the rush of adrenaline that came from fighting back with a good fuck. I can feel my body craving it, cravinghim, wanting to remind itself that I’m still alive, that I can feel pleasure as well as pain.
I shouldn’t want to be stretched, filled, fucked. I shouldn’t want it right now at all, let alone from my captor. But to my everlasting shame, as he grinds against me, laughing darkly as he sees my skin flush, I can feel my pussy getting wet.
I know he can feel it too, soaking through the fabric of his joggers.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Mikhail groans, pushing the thick ridge of his cock against me until I can feel it parting my folds around him, almost pushing inside of me. “I can’t wait to fuck you again,krasotka.But for now–”
Both of his hands leave my hips, and I feel him pull away. I hear him moan as our bodies separate, his sharp intake of breath. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet. It’s all over me–fuck–”
I feel the shift in the air as he leans down, still trying to hold me in place with his hands, and I tense. I know what he’s going to do before he does it, that he’s obsessed with eating me out, that he won’t be able to see the front of his pants soaked with my arousal, his hard cock outlined with it, and not try to taste me.
I also know it’s another chance for escape, if I can keep my head.
My gaze darts across the desk, looking for something to grab, something heavy enough to hit him with. I only have a moment before I feel his warm breath against my pussy, feel the flat heat of his tongue sliding over me, from my clit to the entrance and all the way to my tightest hole, and I let out a low wail of pleasure before I can stop myself, the sensation sending sparks of sensation skittering across my skin.
“Silly girl,” Mikhail groans, his tongue pushing against my clit, teasing me. “Pretending you don’t want to be in my bed, with my tongue in your pussy just like this.”
I wait for him to press his face between my thighs again, my body tensing with what I know to him will feel like pleasure–and itis–but it’s something else, too.
Preparation.
When I know he’s not looking, when I can feel his nose and mouth pressed against me, his tongue circling my clit, I reach for what I saw. A snow globe with the famous Moscow skyline in it. My hand closes around it, and I take a deep, shuddering breath.
I only get one more chance. I’m sure of that.
Don’t. Stay. It feels so good.I can feel my body protesting, my clit throbbing under his tongue as he laps at me, teasing me closer to the edge of a climax that my body seems all too happy to give him. The temptation to let him keep going, to come, to feel his thick perfect cock inside of me again, is almost too much.
But I know that ends with me chained to his bed again.
I twist around, hitting him in the side of the head with my knee as I do, pushing him sideways. I dance on one foot out of his grasp, hopping and jerking to one side, and before he can recover, just as he grabs for me, I smash the snow globe into the side of his head.
It doesn’t break as I hoped it would. But it does bounce off of the side of his face as I let go, and he lets out a cry of pain, his hand going to his head as I rush for the door again. I get one look at the twisted expression of hatred on his face, the erotic sight of his lips glistening with my arousal, and then I’m fleeing for my life, my hand going to the doorknob again.
