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8
Dmitry
The car ride was blessedly silent, only the hum of the engine filling the void as we drove from the dingier side of town back to my house. Manya didn’t fill the silence with useless chatter or prattle off a bunch of questions that I didn’t have the answer for, and I was grateful for it. I hadn’t been lying to Shura. For a long moment there I hadn’t been sure if I would be able to get out of that situation . . .and I didn’t like how that made me feel.
As we pulled into the driveway of my house, I wondered if I hadn’t been at some sort of advantage having been allowed to prepare for this marriage of ours.
I’d had months. I’d gone from apartment living to settling into one of my family’s homes in the area, complete with waitstaff. I’d been given time to try and figure out how I wanted this marriage to go. Even though it turned out nothing like expected, I’d been able to adjust.For me that was a good thing.
Manya was a maelstrom of emotion wrapped up in a woman, her demeanor as icy or as fiery as she so allowed. And she was smart. I hadn’t been aware that I enjoyed that in a woman as much as I did before her.
She tasted like dark cherries and red wine, and while one might have been down to drinking, I knew that the other flavor was uniquely all her. It made me wonder what other areas of her body might taste like. I could only imagine what her skin might feel like under my palms. She hadn’t pulled back when my hand had closed around her throat, even so lightly as it had, back at the duplex.
She had almost moaned. I had felt it, vibrating beneath my palm as she twirled her tongue against mine. I wanted to recreate it. I wanted to tighten my fingers until her face started to redden, and I wanted to feel her moan from that too.
It was the only thought on my mind as I followed her up the front steps and through the front door.
It was the only thing I wanted to think about, period, as I began removing my ruined jacket from my body, not pausing as she turned in surprise. My fingers worked their way quickly down what remained of the buttons of my dress shirt so that I could shrug out of it. A few of the looser buttons torn in the fray fell from me completely, pinging against the tile floor.
“I, uh, I think that I’ll just—” she started nervously, backing a half step back in retreat to her room.
I didn’t drop my gaze from her, my hands dropping instead to the front of my belt buckle. “Take the dress off,” I uttered darkly, walking forward despite the way her throat bobbed in response.Fear or attraction. It was always a game.Which one would win. . .?
“The silk . . .” she objected weakly.
“Take. Off. The. Dress,” I repeated, sliding my belt out of the loops of my pants.
Her lips opened, no sound escaping them as her tongue ran nervously along the bottom swell of her mouth. She stared, her eyes wide, as I stripped entirely, nothing standing between us now but my throbbing erection and the space that I had left to cover. She didn’t move.
I crossed the room to her in a matter of three strides, gathering her wrists in my hands and pulling them forward to me, straightening her arms out. She took a half step forward, swaying slightly.
I didn’t pause. I didn’t wait for her to catch up.
Instead I took the belt that I still held in my hands and fitted it around her joined wrists, pulling the leather back through its buckle until it banded her hands together. I pulled it until the leather creaked and her skin creased from it. Her eyes widened even further.But she didn’t try to pull away.
I could hear her breath stutter in her chest, see the tight stand of her nipples in response to me pulling that belt until the end was left like a leash from her bound wrists. With a sharp tug I walked her backwards until her shoulders hit the wall behind her, watching that confusion war with desire in the black depths of her gaze. . . .
And then I lifted the belt holding her. I looped the excess around the lighting fixture well over her head, stretching her arms above her, leaving the rest of her open to my gaze . . . and having now secured it, she would be open to my hands as well.
“Dmitry . . .” she whispered, wetting her lips again and all but rubbing her thighs against one another as she shifted. “What—”
“Don’t,” I demanded, my fingers finding the knot of her dress that kept it tied up about her neck. “Don’t overthink it. Don’t ask.” I wanted her to feel. I didn’t want to explain myself—I didn’t want to pause and lose my momentum. . . .
She inhaled roughly, her breasts heaving with the motion. “Yes s—” she cut off, swallowing that second word, and I wanted to pull it from her throat.
I wanted to know if it was the word I thought, and if it was, I wanted to hear her moan it around my cock until I came.
The burgundy silk fell around her, revealing the lack of tan lines that I had been expecting, and all of her body in all of its nude perfection. Her breasts sat high on her chest. Her nipples tightened even further from just my gaze alone, their dusty pink seeming to blush in the incandescent light from the other room.
My palm ran roughly down the center of her chest, trailing down the planes of her stomach and pushing between the rounds of her thighs to feel that warm, wet heat that I had only imagined before. As I ran my fingers along her, I could feel her thighs shifting—opening—as if she were asking for more. She let out a lilted moan as she writhed against her bindings.
My thumb rubbed at the sensitive flesh I found there, circling it again and again as I slid my two fingers inside of her, teasing at her entrance until I could go a step further, until I could pull my cock up at the right angle to slide it between her thighs instead.
“Fuck,” she breathed, the word dying on her lips and morphing into a high-pitched inhale as I followed her directive. Even if it hadn’t been meant as that. I slid inside of her with a groan of my own, my lips falling roughly on hers to keep her from repeating anything back to me.
With one hand I lifted one of her legs, securing it about my hips as I flexed further into her. My other hand rolled against her side before lifting up and over her stomach, her chest, her shoulder . . . coming to rest as it had back in the duplex against her throat. I felt the quick uptick in her heart rate.
“Do you want me to choke you, Manya?” I asked roughly as my hips moved so very slowly in and out of her.
