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“I’m allowed to get mad at you,” I said mutinously, giving the hard muscle of his ass a retaliatory swat as we approached the bed.
“You're mad about something that is now obsolete. What I would have done a year ago is irrelevant because I’m with you now. I get that you’re pissed about Orlov, about your dad, about your situation, but you’re lashing out at me over something fucking pointless and I’m not about to let you get away with it.”
He finished his statement with another flurry of slaps that had me howling. Jesus, could Hannah hear me? I cringed at the possibility. Of course, that didn’t shut me up. “You hurt my feelings. I can’t believe you were going to blow me off forever!”
He stilled, his fingers digging into my sore bottom with enough force to make me yelp. “You’re not listening to me. You know what you’re asking for, Em?”
His low voice was ominous. I was shocked to feel a bolt of heat between my legs at the same time as fear crowded my thoughts. What he was insinuating was scary, but there was something about this that I found unbearably hot. It was confusing as hell.
I knew what he was really asking me—are you ready for this? Do you really want it? My sane mind screamed no, but my newly discovered sexuality sat like a little devil on my shoulder, urging me on, taunting me with the image of him ripping my clothes off and spanking me and fucking me.
Instead of answering him, I gave him another swat on the ass.
“Oh, you are being a very neposlushnaya devochka,” he murmured, before giving me an even harder slap on my ass. I yelped but before I could retaliate, he swung me off his shoulder to my feet. Before I could blink, he had my panties around my knees and me slung over his lap.
The awkwardness of the position had some of the eroticism ebbing away as my cheeks filled hotly with embarrassment. “Ivan, I don’t think I—”
Before I could finish my sentence, he landed three hard swats that had me seriously reconsidering my decision to encourage this. My hand reached back on instinct, looking to soothe the stinging skin.
“None of that.” He grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the small of my back.
I was so disoriented at my sudden position—slung over his lap, being spanked and restrained—I was about to tell him to stop, but before I could open my mouth, two big, rough fingers slid between my legs and started stroking my clit. I gasped as ecstasy rocketed through my body, at odds with the burning heat left by his hand.
“Oh, devushka, I’m not sure how much of a punishment this is considering how wet your pussy is right now.” His fingers suddenly moved from my clit and thrust inside me, as if I needed proof of my own drenched condition.
Moaning softly, my hips moved desperately against his hand, seeking my own pleasure. But he was having none of that. He swiftly removed his hand and landed several hard swats on my heated skin. It was as if the heightened experience of pleasure and pain had flipped a switch on my emotions as a torrent of tears streamed down my face.
My breath heaved in gasping sobs that had Ivan gently lifting me from his lap and pulling me to his chest, his hand gently rubbing my back as he whispered in Russian to me. A flare of petulance flashed through me that he was probably saying the sweetest things to me, and I couldn’t even understand him. I really needed to learn Russian.
As if hearing my inner thoughts, his words turned to English. Pulling back, he cradled my face, the emerald of his eyes glowing as he stared at me with compassion, but firmness.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry for everything you’re going through, and I would do anything to take it away. But the one thing I won’t do is let you manage your anger in a way that’s going to create distance between us. I won’t tolerate it.”
I nodded as tears continued to stream down my cheeks, which he wiped away with his rough thumbs. “I can’t believe everything that’s going on. I have a maniac father and just when I thought things were safe again, that we could settle down and relax for a minute.”
“I know, moya devushka,” he murmured.
Reflecting on the tantrum I threw ten minutes ago, I winced. “Are you mad I yelled at you?”
“No. I loved that you yelled at me. I want you to confront me if you’re pissed.” His thumb swept over my cheek, as if to calm me down after my uncharacteristic behavior. “Look, Em, I’m an intimidating motherfucker and I know I did everything in the world to make you doubt my feelings for you. I like that despite that, you yelled and screamed at me because at least you were communicating with me. I need you to always tell me when something is wrong.”
I looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, you aren’t exactly an open book when it comes to your feelings. You’re aware you need to do the same thing for me, right?”
His lips pressed together as if in distaste and I almost laughed. “Yes, I know.”
My inner demon was provoked by his discomfort, and I couldn’t help taking advantage of it. “You know I think I’m just going to feel insecure for a little while, so I’ll need reassurance, can you do that?”
“Of course, malyshka.” He was so sincere, I felt a prickle of guilt teasing him.
“Well, it would really help if you would write me a daily love poem so I feel secure in your feelings. Not too long, just like a page or something.”
Ivan’s body turned to stone under mine. I darted a glance at him and almost whooped at the sickened look on his face. “Poems?” he repeated.
I nodded and stared at my hands because I couldn’t look at him or I’d start howling. “Yeah, but only for like a year or so. Then I think I’ll be okay.” I pressed my lips together in order to repress the grin that was threatening to break out.
“Emmy, I don’t—” he paused, strong hands gripping my chin as he yanked my gaze to his, his brow tightening as his assessing gaze skated over my features. “You’re joking?”
I snorted and clapped my hands together. “Oh my god, you should have seen your face.”
