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“I’d say that’s strike one.”
Instinct moves me, along with the same panic I felt earlier when I tried to run. But unlike then, when I thought I could escape, I’m fleeing now because I don’t want to find out what strike one means.
Like the lion playing with the mouse, Malik allows me to get a few more steps ahead this time before he catches up to me.
He grabs my nightshirt first, and because I don’t stop trying to escape his grasp, it tears off my body like paper, leaving me in nothing but my panties. He grabs me with one arm and throws me over his shoulder caveman style.
“Running again was strike two.” His voice deepens, and one large hand lands on my ass cheek so hard I cry out. He spanks me again, holding me tight as I try to wriggle out of the lock.
“Let me go!” I scream.
One more slap comes down hard on my ass, and another, before he walks out of the secret shrine with me just like that and back into the bedroom.
“Put me down. What the hell is wrong with you?”
He throws me onto the bed, and blinding panic races over me when he climbs on, too, then presses his hard body into mine.
Before I can say another word, he catches my hands in one of his, pinning them above my head. Instantly, I think of worse things he could do to me than what he’s already done.
Would he really force himself on me?
Why wouldn’t he?
I’m naked and completely at his mercy. He’s strong. There would be nothing I could do to stop him.
“Malyshka.” I wish he didn’t call me that. Hearing the stupid endearment reminds me of how much I liked it. And how much I liked him. I must be sick in the head if I can think of that now when nanoseconds ago, I was worried he’d rape me. “I warned you what would happen if you fucked with me.”
“I’m sorry.” The words tumble out of my mouth.
“It’s too late for sorry, Malyshka. The last man to draw blood from me is six feet under.” He speaks in a deep, low voice that heightens my fear. “What do you think I’m going to do to you?”
His massive erection presses into my belly, and he parts my legs with his knees.
“Malik—” My words cut when he releases my hands to cup my sex.
I gasp, and he doesn’t give me a chance to recover before he shoves my panties aside and pushes his finger into my pussy.
“Baby, I’m not above fucking you into submission.” He pumps into my passage and I can no longer move. “I just think it’s so much sweeter when you come to me willingly, like all the other times we’ve fucked.”
Holding me captive with his massive hard body, he continues pumping his finger in and out of me, then speaks in Russian. Of course, I don’t understand him, and it’s clear he doesn’t mean for me to. But I can tell that whatever it is must be something completely inappropriately sexual, and it would frighten me more than I am now if I knew what he was saying.
“What are you going to do to me?” The high-pitched whimper of my voice carries across the room.
He smiles and answers in Russian, sounding scary and sexy at the same time.
“You…bastard.” I grab his shirt as I feel the beginnings of an orgasm rising through my body on a wave of fire.
“Yes. But I’m the kind of bastard you like, Malyshka. Look at how fucking wet my naughty little designer is for me. You seem to be a good girl, but you like my fingers in your pussy. You like how I touch you, and you like being restrained.” He grins.
“I… don’t.” My forced answer feels like the same kind of lies I hate telling myself.
“Your naughty little pussy doesn’t lie, Malyshka. This cunt is soaking wet for me, and only I can please you.”
I want to protest and tell him it’s not true, but I can’t speak. A stupid moan comes out instead, betraying me.
Smooth circles go around and around my clit, and I whimper in confliction because I want to hate it, but what I hate is that my body loves what he’s doing to me.
I hate that his fingers feel so damn good inside me, and I hate it even more that I remember how his cock felt even better pounding into me.
