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“You’re—” I swallow hard, not wanting to say it aloud. “Look, whatever’s going on, I’m sure it has nothing to do with me. Just please don’t—”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeats. “Not inanyway. But I do need you to calm down, and accept that for now, you’re staying in this hotel room.”
“Your—” I lick my lips, feeling my cheeks flush. “I hear you, but your dick is saying something else entirely.”
Something in his eyes darkens at that, and I feel his hands tighten imperceptibly on my upper arms. “You’re not here for that, Lidiya. But I can’t help it if I respond to having a beautiful girl like you pinned up against the door of my hotel room.”
I stare at him for a moment, shocked once again into speechlessness. I’m not about to fall for a line like that, ofcoursenot. And it’s not as if no one else has ever called me beautiful–for all that I don’t really believe it, more than one man has complimented me on my appearance.
But somehow, it sounds different on his lips. Holding me there with his hands on my arms, those piercing eyes fixed on mine and his muscled body so close to me, close enough that I can almost feel the heat of it sinking into my skin through his clothes and mine, the wordbeautifulseems to take on a different meaning. The way his rough, thickly accented voice murmurs it sends shivers over my skin like I’ve never felt before, makes my heart leap in my chest and my eyes flick down to his full lips, wondering suddenly what they might feel like on mine—
What the actual fuck, Lidiya.
This man has all but kidnapped me—maybe evenactuallykidnapped me—and is holding me prisoner up against a door, and I’m thinking about hislips.Maybe Grisha really took every last bit of common sense I had with him.
“If I let you go,” the man continues, “are you going to be a good girl, and go and sit on the bed while we talk this out?”
Something about the way he saysgood girlmakes my knees go weak, enough that I might have stumbled if he wasn’t still holding me against the door. I’d been freezing not all that long ago, but now I feel flushed and hot, and I suddenly want nothing more than for him to let go of me—and at the same time, my mind is racing with fantasies of what could happen if he didn’t.
I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, but clearly Grisha did a number on my brain.
I try to think rationally. It’s clear that I’m not going to get out of this hotel room, not right now at least. I’ve tried twice, and he’s gotten ahold of me both times. I don’t trust him in the slightest, but I do believe him when he says that he’s not going to hurt me—my instincts about people are generally pretty good. Grisha excluded, of course, but that’s the exception. From the moment I woke up and he started talking to me, I got the distinct impression that he’s not happy about keeping me here. And even if certain—other—parts of him seem happy about our current situation, I also don’t get the sense that he’s going to take advantage of me. Even him removing my layers in the warm room seems more caring in retrospect than creepy.
Despite the fact that I’m here against my will, he doesn’t seem likethatbad of a man. Still, he’s clearly determined to keep me here, and I’m not particularly interested in finding out what lengths he’ll go to to make that happen if I don’t cooperate.
Idefinitelydon’t want him tying me to the bed, and not just because I’m not particularly fond of the idea of being restrained in a strange man’s hotel room.
It’s also because from the way my heart is racing, I’m almost worried I might like it a littletoomuch.
“Alright, fine,” I manage through my teeth. “I’ll listen to what you have to say. But then, and I swear to god—I’m going home.”
Levin
This girl has been awake for less than twenty minutes and she’s already driving me insane.
At first, all I’d felt was relief that she’d woken up. I’d have had a hell of a time explaining it to my boss, Vladimir, if the girl had died under my watch—even if it would have been through her own clumsiness. But then she’d tried to run, and I’d realized that this was going to be a harder process than even what I’d initially expected it would be.
Follow that up with her twisting my balls and making a second run for it, and that leaves us where we are now, with me pinning her up against the door and sporting a rock-hard, completely inappropriate erection.
What the fuck is wrong with me?I’m not some teenage boy, to get a hard-on for every pretty girl I touch. I’m particularly not one to mix business and pleasure unless the circumstance specifically calls for it—I don’t go around getting aroused by every woman I come in contact with. This one is beautiful, certainly, but she’s not some supermodel—there’s absolutely no reason for me to have lost control of myself in that way.
But something about the way she’s looking up at me defiantly with those pretty blue eyes, squirming and fighting back like a little wildcat, the way she’s not screaming and crying in panic anddefinitelythe way her slender body felt arched against me all add up to the fact that I’m harder than I remember having been for a woman in a very long time, my heart pounding in my chest at the feeling of her arms in my grasp and the scent of her skin.
I want to fuck her. I want to toss her onto the bed, pin her down all over again and strip those unflattering clothes away from her so I can see what her pale, petite, naked body looks like beneath them before shoving my throbbing cock so deeply into her that she’ll have the veins of it imprinted inside of her for days to come. I want to fuck her completely, thoroughly, and as roughly as she could possibly take it.
Which makes absolutely no fucking sense, because I have actual business to handle with her, and she’s just a girl. Just another pretty Russian girl in a country full of them.
My cock seems to think differently, though.
I’m almost disappointed when she says that she’ll stop fighting and listen to what I have to say. Not that I would have hurt or taken advantage of her—I very much want to avoid physically hurting her and I’ve never violated a woman and never will—but the idea of her tied to the bed so I can look at her that way while I question her holds a certain appeal that has my cock straining even harder against the fly of my jeans.
“Alright, then.” I let go of her anyway, because I’m a man of my word. “Go and sit on the bed then, and I’ll sit on that chair, and we’ll have a proper talk, like adults.”
Lidiya glares at me, rubbing her upper arms where my fingers have left red marks, but when I step back to let her pass, she doesn’t try to go for the door again. Instead, she pushes past me, striding towards the bed and plopping pointedly down on the edge of it, staring at me as I make my way towards the chair.
A woman of her word then, too. Good. We’ll get along much better that way.
“Let’s start with introductions,” I say, pulling the wing chair a bit closer to the bed so that there’s about a foot of space between us, my hands loosely and unthreateningly on my knees. I want to be close enough to catch her if she tries to run again, but not so close that she feels threatened.Ialso want a bit of space from her—the moment I sat down my cock folded up uncomfortably in my jeans, still raging on in its inability to understand that this is not a woman we get to fuck.
