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Turning my head toward the room, I try to remember where I am and what happened. “What—” I’m about to ask when I see the cuffs dangling from hooks in the wooden beams and a long leather whip on the floor. As if on cue, my back wakes up too.
I groan at the burning sensation. I remember that the whip caused the pain, but everything surrounding it seems strange and confusing, and I can’t seem to wrap my mind around anything.
Pushing up on my elbows, I try to sit, but the room blurs around me, and my body is weak, barely able to hold me.
“Easy now.” Grigory gently presses me back down. “You’re not quite ready for that yet.” He leans back to grab something, then holds a straw in front of my mouth. “Drink.”
I gingerly suck on the straw and taste sweet orange juice. One sip awakens my thirst, and I gulp down the rest of the glass in one go.
“Do you remember what happened?” Grigory asks, setting the glass aside before continuing the languid strokes along my arm.
“Mmm,” I reply tentatively, glancing around the room. The space is big. Huge really. But cozy.
My eyes drift back to Grigory when he wraps his hand around my chin. “You’re mine now, Clara.”
His words take me aback. I remember coming here, Markus leaving, and the whipping, but my mind hasn’t comprehended the full meaning yet. I stare at Grigory for a full minute as I try to gauge if it’s all just a dream.
“You belong to me,” he clarifies when I don’t respond.
“How—” I shake my head, overcome by a wave of uncertainty. “I can’t be.”
Grigory’s expression remains grave as ever as he leans down. He hovers before my face, sliding his fingers over my cheek and into my hair. I stare into his eyes, and the emotion I see there takes me aback. They’re soft and warm, yet full of purpose. I gulp, blinking rapidly as I try to process the intense contact.
And then my world turns upside down as he closes the distance and presses soft lips to mine.
I’m so stunned I can’t move. The pain in my back fades along with the confusing memories. All I feel is the press of his lips.
He leans back a smidgen, watching me with a flaring intensity that has my heart skipping a beat. “All mine,” he says. Tightening his hand in my hair, he lifts my head to connect our lips anew, moving his lips against mine in the most intimate kiss of my life.
A soft moan escapes me as I melt into the kiss, moving my lips in careful motions against his, soaking up every nuance of the connection: The woodsy, sort of smoky taste—like when he pours a glass of his favorite drink. The slight scratch of his jaw—like I’ve often felt against my shoulder at the end of a long day. The tender caresses of his hands—that usually follow a hard spanking.
It’s all familiar, yet somehow new.
Gradually, he intensifies the kiss with tiny nibbles and licks, and soon our tongues meet in an intimate dance that robs me of thought and air. I disappear into his sweet possession as he claims my mouth, finally consummating the potent force that has been pulling between us since the first time we met.
It’s heartbreaking and freeing at the same time—to finally have what I’ve ached for so long.
When he at long last breaks the kiss, I’m unable to do anything but stare at him with wide, vulnerable eyes.
“I have one last thing that will cement my ownership,” he says, swiping his knuckles across my cheek.
I give a single nod as my tongue darts over my lips, savoring the remnants of our first kiss.
Grigory straightens beside me and takes my right hand, moving his thumb in circles on top of my wrist. “I’m gonna cut my mark into you.”
It takes me a moment to realize what he’s saying, and still, I don’t quite comprehend. “Your mark?” I shake my head like the motion could clear away the last of the fog.
“My initials,” he clarifies. “In Cyrillic.”
“Cut?” I parrot. “As in my skin?”
Grigory curves his large hand around my cheek, still circling his other thumb on my wrist. “Devochka,this is not a game or pretend. This is permanent. I’m not ever letting you go. I want to make that very clear.”
“I know,” I say, feeling the truth of his words deep in my soul. “You don’t have to cut my skin to make me see it.”
“This is not to make you see. It’s to make you remember. The mark will be permanent, just like my ownership.”
My chest stutters with hard breaths as I shift my gaze back and forth between his eyes.
