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“You’re chaining me like a damn dog?” I snap as he connects the end to my ankle chains with a padlock. He then proceeds to chain the other end to the bed.
“There’s enough for you to go to the bathroom and stay in this bed.”
“Are you seriously going ahead with your stupid plan, Ivan? You think I killed your wife and you’re still going to have a child with me?”
“You can replace what you stole,” he snaps, pushing me onto the bed.
“Then you’ll take it by force because I’m not having sex with you again.”
He grins. “We’ll see, sladost. Whether you like it or not, your body reacts to my touch.”
I scoff. “You’re not special to me. My body reacts like that because I like sex. I’m not ashamed of that.”
“You’ll beg me to fuck you.”
I pull the sheets over my body. “You’re wrong.”
Days pass and we’re back to how we were in the beginning. Ivan is hardly around, occasionally returning to his room to shower before changing and leaving. He doesn’t acknowledge me, and he hasn’t even tried to touch me.
Maria leaves my food just inside the door, after Ivan clearly told her, in front of me, the rules he was putting in place.
And I hate it. I hate being ignored, and I hate not having anyone to speak to, even if he’s ruining my life. At least when we were talking, I didn’t feel so alone.
It’s night when Ivan enters the room. He makes too much noise to ignore, and when I sit up, he gives a drunken smile. “Sladost,” he slurs. I flop back down, ignoring him. He eventually crawls into bed, moving close. I shift to the edge of the bed, doing my best to avoid him, but he’s soon pulling me back and pressing himself against me. “We can’t make a child if we don’t touch,” he whispers.
“The doctor said we should wait until I have a period,” I remind him. He runs his hand along my side, and I shrug him away. “I told you, we’re not having sex.”
He laughs, rolling onto his back. “We’ll see.”
The next night is the same, only this time, he isn’t alone. Heels click across the floor, and I push to sit up, catching sight of Ivan as he pulls a leggy blonde towards him. She giggles, placing her arms around his neck and kissing him.
Jealousy burns me, and then I get angry at myself because that’s the last thing I should feel. Ivan sits on the chair in the corner of the room, and the woman begins to slowly sway, removing her clothes as she does. “Excuse me?” I snap, and she jumps in fright. “I’m trying to sleep.”
She tries to grab her dress, but Ivan beats her to it, kicking it from her. “Ignore her, she’s not important.”
“Ivan, this is—” the woman begins, but he pulls her close, capturing her lips before she can finish.
“Hot,” he whispers against her mouth. In one swift move, he spins her around and bends her over the foot of the bed, pushing her face into the mattress. His eyes connect with my own. “Keep quiet, or this won’t end well for her,” he warns me.
I roll my eyes. I thought I hated him with everything I have, but as he removes her knickers and rips a condom open with his teeth, the feeling is so much more than hate. He repulses me. I watch as he slowly enters her, unable to look away, because despite everything I feel right now, I’m turned on.
Watching his masculine body cover hers as he takes what he wants ignites something in me I didn’t know existed. His eyes never leave mine, which only adds to the intensity of the situation, and as she begins to writhe around, whimpering in pleasure, he pulls from her and pushes her to her knees. She takes his length with enthusiasm, yet still he watches me. It’s seconds before he’s groaning aloud, thrusting so hard that she gags.
I lay silent as they make plans to see each other again, and then he walks her downstairs to see her out. When I hear him returning, I roll over, keeping my back to him, and squeeze my eyes shut. The last thing I want to do is talk to him.
He goes straight into the shower, taking time to wash his body. “Do you have anything to tell me yet, suka?” His new nickname for me, ‘bitch’, has replaced sladost.
“Nothing has changed, Ivan. I have no idea about your wife,” I say with a bored tone.
“Maxim thinks I should kill you,” he states.
“Maxim is a cunt,” I say clearly. I hate the word, but it seems perfect for him. “Maybe he placed it in my bag.”
“Yes, of course, why didn’t I think of that?” he asks with an empty laugh. The shower turns off, and I hear him step out. “My friend, the man I’ve known since I was a child, killed my wife and waited all this time to frame you.”
“He’s not a good friend,” I tell him.
“And I should take the word of a suka?”
