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“Lie on the bed,” he growls.
Wordlessly, I do as he says, and as I slide back across the sheets, Ilya strips his jacket and tie, then his crimson dress shirt. Delicate Cyrillic script follows the line of his collarbone, probably some quote from the bible or whatever text Ilya holds sacred. Thieves’ stars grace each of his shoulders, and the two-headed eagle I vaguely recall being part of the Russian royal crest sits just over his heart. Everything about this man screams danger, and yet, despite the fear coursing through me, I’ve never wanted anyone this badly in my life.
Ilya stalks toward me, his expression inscrutable as I brace for his next move. And as he reaches the side of the bed, his strong hands find mine, first my right before he draws it up toward the cuffs on the headboard, then my left. The satin lining dulls the bite of the cold metal against my skin, and while my restraints leave me feeling vulnerable and exposed, they also make my stomach quiver with excitement.
He doesn’t strip his pants immediately, getting right down to the business of fucking. Instead, Ilya climbs onto the bed beneath my bent knees, which he grips firmly as he slowly spreads my legs. My muscles spasm instinctually, fighting to maintain my modesty, but Ilya doesn’t let me. His arms bulge like iron bands as he flexes to resist my legs, and despite my own considerable strength, he overpowers me with ease.
Sucking in a shuddering breath, I force myself to relax, letting my legs fall open at his command. And then Ilya leans over me, his chest aligning with mine as our eyes meet. He hovers there a moment, our lips so close I can feel his breath whispering against my skin. And then he closes the distance, capturing my mouth in an electric kiss that makes my heart skip a beat.
It’s my first kiss and perhaps the most intense experience of my life. The way the soft skin of his chest grazes my nipples, his strong hips pressing against me, his thick arms entrapping me, I’m overwhelmed by his presence. But more than that, the strength of his lips against mine, the warmth of them seeping deep into my skin fills me with a craving akin to starvation. I want more, and without thinking, without knowing what I’m doing in the slightest, I bring my head up off the pillow to deepen our kiss.
Ilya responds greedily, his lips parting with mine, allowing his tongue to stroke inside my mouth and trace along my tongue. A moan escapes me unexpectedly, and a deep rumble vibrates from Ilya’s chest into mine in answer. A shiver makes my arms quake, jangling the handcuffs against the bars of the headboard.
And then Ilya’s lips release mine in order to find the tender spot beneath my jaw. He kisses his way down my neck to my breasts, which he lavishes with attention, one hand groping and massaging one while his lips tease the other, his tongue twirling around the hard nub. I gasp, my back arching up off the bed in response as fresh excitement trickles from my entrance, tickling my slit as it makes its way toward my ass. I’ve never been this wet in my life, and we haven’t even gotten to the real stuff yet.
He lingers on my breasts for several minutes, ratcheting up my excitement as he teases the sensitive points, before his lips slowly move on, tracking down to my navel and then lower still. Heart thoroughly lodged in my throat, I pray it won’t explode from how forcefully it’s pounding as Ilya’s lips find my hip bone, and then he pauses.
Gasping, I try to rein in my excitement as I look over the swell of my heaving breasts to see what gave him pause. The hint of a smile curls his lips as he studies the tiny tattoo tucked on the inside of my hip bone. A fierce green-haired fairy, poised in mid-flight and wearing a ballerina’s tutu and slippers points a wand out from my skin, aiming it at the viewer. It was a juvenile attempt shortly after my father’s departure to rebel against him. By the time I realized he was never coming back to chastise me for getting a tattoo well before I was legally allowed to, it was too late.
I’ve gone through phases of regret about the image etched permanently on my skin. Sometimes it seems childish, the image something that a tween girl might pick. But other times, the little fairy actually lends me strength and reminds me that my independence and freewill are more important than always making the right decision. But with the amusement that plays across Ilya’s face comes a fresh wave of embarrassment.
“A fairy?” he asks, his tone playful.
“Yeah, I… got it when I was pretty young.” Compared to Ilya’s tattoos, mine looks like a Sunday-morning cartoon–or worse, a Disney character about to sprinkle me with pixie dust. Heat flames in my cheeks, and I fight the sudden, inexplicable urge to cry.
Ilya’s gaze flicks up to meet mine, and his expression softens ever so slightly. “I only find it amusing because that’s what I’ve been calling you.Moya feya.It means ‘my fairy’ in Russian.”
Bubbles of emotion fizzle to life in my chest, and it takes everything I have to fight them back as I remind myself that this is supposed to be a business transaction–my body in exchange for money.Feelingshave no place in our relationship–if we’re even going to have one.
The moment passes, and Ilya turns his attention back to my skin without another word. Brushing his lips across the tiny figure–intentionally placed to remain hidden no matter what ballet outfit I chose to wear–he resumes his tantalizing trail of kisses until his hot breath washes across my throbbing clit.
A cry of pleasure bursts from me the instant Ilya’s tongue traces my dripping slit, and my hips jerk automatically upward against his lips. The tickle of his soft facial hair makes my walls clench with anticipation, and when Ilya’s hands wrap around my thighs, immobilizing me, I feel as though I might explode with the intensity of my arousal.
Stroking his tongue more intentionally between my folds, Ilya laps up my juices, sending jolts of electric pleasure through my body. I mewl, releasing a sound I didn’t even know I could make as my limbs go numb with intoxicating euphoria. And then his warm lips wrap around my clit, encasing my overtaxed bundle of nerves as he slowly starts to suck.
I feel as though my body might rip in two. Every muscle draws taut like a piano wire as I practically convulse with the need for release. And I can feel it coming, barreling through me like a freight train as Ilya’s tongue flicks out to torture my throbbing clit.
“Fuck!” I scream, my hands scrabbling uselessly at the air as my orgasm obliterates me.
It’s so intense that stars explode behind my tightly closed eyelids, and if not for Ilya’s iron grip pinning me to the bed, I’m confident I would have gone into seizures. Wave after wave of ecstasy washes through me, making my skin tingle and my body go limp. My breaths burst from me as if I’ve just sprinted a 5K race without training, and for a moment, my ears ring so loudly I think I might have gone deaf. Whether that’s from too much blood pounding through them or too little, I don’t know. And I couldn’t care less.
Collapsing onto the mattress in a puddle, I suck in lungfuls of air as my heart slowly comes back down to a less frightening rate. And when I finally can bring myself to open my eyes once more, my stomach clenches at the self-satisfied smile stretched across Ilya’s captivating face.
He shifts then, sliding off the bed before digging into his pocket and pulling out a foil wrapper. Icy fear replaces my deep satisfaction as I realize that this is it–my last chance to back out. But my lips are frozen, my voice caught in my throat, and suddenly I can’t breathe as Ilya unbuckles his pants and drops them and his boxers down around his ankles, exposing an impressively thick erection.
Tearing the foil, Ilya tosses it aside before rolling the rubber onto his hard length. Then he climbs onto the bed once more. My legs are still spread wide for him, and the massive Russian falls on top of me once more, aligning our bodies so that his face hovers above mine. I can smell my own arousal on his breath, and somehow, that brings back a flicker of excitement despite my sheer terror.
“Breathe,moya feya,” he commands, his eyes staring deep into mine.
He leans in to capture my lips with his, and I close my eyes, trying to inhale through my nose, though the fear constricting my throat makes it nearly impossible. Ilya shifts, his arm sliding between us to align his cockhead with my entrance, and I can feel just how large it is as it presses insistently against my tiny hole.
I can’t do this. Fuck, I’m not ready. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fu–
A sharp pain rips through me as Ilya presses inside me several inches. I cry out, my scream vanishing into his mouth as tears of pain sting the back of my eyes. Ilya stills, allowing me a moment to wrap my mind around the alien feeling of having someone else inside me. His lips release mine, and he leans in to murmur in my ear.
“Breathe through the pain, love.”
I know the term of endearment is only meant to put me at ease. He can’t possibly feel anything as powerful as love after knowing me for little more than a day. Besides, the concept of love is an entirely misguided premise based on lust and temporary madness. Still, hearing it somehow helps bring me back to my senses, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath, my muscles tense with the anticipation of more pain.
