by Julia Sykes
He pulled back so he could stare into my eyes. “You want me to hurt you,” he rasped. “Tell me.”
My core clenched, throbbing in the aftermath of his bite. “Yes,” I admitted in a husky whisper.
“I knew you would be like this.” He muttered to himself in Russian, but I was finally able to understand him. I glowed at my triumph, and – I hesitated to admit to myself – at his pleasure with me.
He stood and quickly removed his clothes, then retrieved something new from the nightstand drawer. He pinned me down by straddling my hips before apprehension could make me move away. Holding the strange device in one hand, he began to massage my breasts with the other. Pleasure bloomed low in my belly, and my nipples hardened against his palm. He pinched and rolled them between his thumb and forefinger, giving me little flashes of pain that further stoked my lust.
Just as my eyelids began to grow heavy with bliss, something sharp bit into my right nipple. My eyes flew wide, and a twin pain flared in my left. I stared down to find little black alligator clips pinching my nipples. A heavy plastic ball hung from each of them, which in turn were attached to thin red electrical cords that led to a remote in Dimitri’s hand. He flipped the switch with a wicked grin.
My back arched with a sharp shout. The hanging spheres had begun to vibrate, and the pleasurable stimulation interwove with the pain of the clamps pinching down on my nipples. My body twisted under the unfamiliar assault, but my movements caused the balls to sway, tugging on my hypersensitive buds. I stilled with a sensual, tormented whimper. Dimitri laughed in delight.
He shifted above me, lining his cock up with my wet and waiting entrance. When he pressed into me, I lifted my hips in invitation, and he sank into me in one smooth thrust. He didn’t pause before pulling out and driving all the way back in. The force of it rocked my entire body, causing the weight of the vibrating spheres to pull against my nipples again. A strangled, animal sound clawed up my throat, and my legs wrapped around him.
He fucked me without mercy, drinking in my tortured cries with an expression of transcendent bliss. My mind fogged over with that strange sense of lustful peace that only he could inflict upon me with his ruthless mixture of pleasure and pain. I lost count of how many times I came before he finally let himself go. His teeth closed around my neck again, biting hard enough to bruise. He snarled against me as he rode out his ecstasy, and my arms closed around him, my fingernails raking down his back with my own fierce pleasure.
The chemicals that flooded my mind obliterated the final vestiges of my ire towards him. Hatred was impossible to maintain in the face of such overwhelming bliss. My hands tugged against the back of his neck, pulling him in for a greedy kiss.
* * * * *
A knock on the bedroom door roused me from my languorous state. My head lifted from Dimitri’s chest, and I shot him a quizzical look. We never had any visitors.
His lips curved up in a lust-drunk smile and brushed his mouth against mine.
“I have another present for you,” he said huskily. “Wait here.”
I had no desire to move, so I compliantly remained sprawled out on the bed while he went to answer the door. It didn’t seem to bother him that he was completely naked, and whoever passed the large white box to him didn’t remark upon it.
He grasped my hand and tugged me into a sitting position, setting the box on my bare thighs. I didn’t wait for his order to open the gift this time. I was eager to see what he had chosen for me. The return of my pendant had rejuvenated my soul, and I was excited to find what more he might give me.
I wasn’t disappointed.
A dress. Clothes. Real clothes. I almost cried with gratitude. He wouldn’t force me to wear the sex-doll lingerie he had initially selected for me. The dress was a sign that he saw me as a woman, not a toy. He might be messing with my mind, but it seemed I was changing him, too.
“I want you to wear it for me,” he said softly. “I’ve had a meal prepared for us in the dining room.”
“You mean…” I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “I get to leave the bedroom?”
“Yes, myshka. I want to show you the rest of our home.”
Our home. It wasn’t my prison. He wanted me to feel I belonged here. With him.
Wasn’t that what I had wanted from the very beginning? To be with him? I had even entertained fantasies of moving to St. Petersburg to live with him, to spend my forever with him. And now he wanted the same.
“Here,” he prompted, lifting the dress from the box. “I will help you put it on.”
The sapphire blue gown matched my pendant perfectly. Dimitri helped me stand and then eased the silky material over my head. It slid down my body, teasing across my tortured breasts. They still throbbed from the bite of the clamps, and the feel of the dress rubbing against them was the sweetest reminder of Dimitri’s erotic torment.
The slinky design clung to my curves, and the V neckline plunged between my breasts, almost reaching my navel. Once, I would have considered it far too lewd, but now it made me feel sexy. Desired. Dimitri had chosen this for me, and the way his hungry eyes raked over my semi-concealed body made me shiver with feminine appreciation.
“Spasibo,” I thanked him in his native tongue. The books really were helping me understand the language, and I was ready to try more conversational Russian.
He beamed at me. “Pozhaluysta.”
The intense mixture of pride and pleasure in his expression made me blush and drop my eyes.
He took my arm and threaded it through his. I barely breathed as we crossed to the bedroom door. I could hardly believe I was about to leave my cell. How long had it been since I had first been incarcerated? Time had lost its meaning beyond when I was with Dimitri and when he was absent.
He opened the door, and I pressed my body closer to his, seeking support. Trepidation stirred in my gut. The bedroom was safe. Outside was an unknown.
His arm wrapped around my waist, his fingers curling into my hip. I took solace in his strength, and allowed him to guide me out into the hallway. I stiffened when Roman fell into step behind us.
I couldn’t help remembering the feel of men’s hands on me as I was hauled into the back of a black SUV; the sting of the needle piercing my neck; the all-consuming terror of my abduction. Dimitri had said Roman was responsible for taking me.
But Dimitri held me possessively close, and Roman kept a respectful distance. It reassured me that he was there to serve Dimitri rather than to be aggressive toward me.
Once my tension eased, I drank in my new surroundings. Bright sunlight filtered through the windows that dominated most of one side of the hallway, illuminating the intricate gilding that decorated the opposite wall. The deep red carpet drank in the rays, making it warm beneath my bare feet. Countless pieces of antique furniture and priceless artifacts lined the hall, and we passed two open rooms that appeared to have no real function other than holding more treasures in an elaborately decorated style.
A full five minutes elapsed before we finally arrived at the dining room. The long table could seat twenty, but only two place settings were arranged side by side. Dimitri and I would be alone. That comforted me. After my long isolation, the idea of other men – especially those in the Russian mafia – being near me made me queasy. Roman’s presence was enough to make the back of my neck prickle with unease.
Dimitri pulled out my chair and pushed it in for me when I sat down. It was as though he was courting me again, as he had done at the beginning of our relationship. The man who had punished me so cruelly over the last several weeks was gone, replaced by the one who cherished and protected me. When he was like this, I could almost forget the terrible things he had done to me.
I flinched away from the dark memories that threatened to rise. I didn’t want to think about that. The moment was too perfect to spoil with such unpleasantness.
Once we were both seated, the first part of our meal was served. I was relieved when a woman rather than a man br
ought out the small dish of caviar. I stared at the food, my hand hovering over my spoon. Would Dimitri truly allow me to feed myself? I had done so in his absence, but this was the first time he hadn’t sat me in his lap when we shared a meal. Instead, I sat at the table beside him like a woman. Like an equal.
“It’s all right,” he encouraged. “Eat.”
Something like regret tugged at my heart when my fingers closed around the utensil. I tried to ignore the disconcerting sensation. I appreciated that Dimitri was allowing me this independence. I didn’t miss being held and fed like a pet. I didn’t.
His cocky smirk told me he saw right through me. I turned my attention to my food and determinedly took my first bite. His low chuckle echoed in my ears. I glared at him.
“You are very cute, myshka,” he told me with fondness. He had always found my irritation amusing. It no longer bothered me as much as it should have. I sighed and took another small bite.
“I thought you might like to go riding with me tomorrow,” he said casually, and I almost choked on my caviar.
“You mean… horseback riding?” I practically squeaked. Surely this couldn’t be real. First, he let me out of the bedroom, and now he was talking about taking me outdoors? It was almost too overwhelming to contemplate.
He frowned. “Do you not want to?”
“I do!” I said quickly, before he could change his mind. “I mean, yes. Please.”
He smiled again, and my heart did a little flip.
“I didn’t know you rode,” I said, still baffled by this strange turn of events. “You never mentioned it.”
“I had a stable built and bought two horses. I thought you might want to teach me.”
“Me? Teach you?”
He shrugged. “I could hire an instructor, if you would prefer.”
My mouth opened and closed again. I couldn’t even begin to formulate a response. I could barely even process the enormity of what he had done for me.
“Say something,” he pressed, lines of concern creasing his eyes. He truly cared about my reaction.
“Why?” I finally managed. “Why would you do this?”
“I told you. I want you to be happy. I thought I wanted you in my bed and in my chains, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t you.”
I didn’t get the chance to respond to his astounding declaration.
“What do you think you’re doing?” It took me a few seconds to translate the Russian in my head, but the fury in Dimitri’s father’s tone struck me immediately.
My head whipped around just in time to see him advancing on us. Dimitri stood, angling his body between his father and me. The older man gave an agitated wave at a burly man who flanked him and shot a sharp glance at Roman. The guard rushed Dimitri, and Roman followed a second later. Surprise stole the time he needed to react, and the two men grabbed him before he could take a defensive stance.
I screamed out my fear for him and reached a pleading hand toward Roman, who kept his eyes averted from Dimitri’s. I was so caught up in my concern for him that I didn’t see his father coming for me.
His palm cracked across my face, and I tasted coppery blood as the inside of my cheek tore against my teeth. For a moment, that was all I could focus on: the taste of my blood on my tongue. The sensation was so surreal that the pain didn’t register until he hit me a second time. The force of the blow sent me sprawling back onto the table.
I blinked away the stars that obscured my vision. My instinct for flight kicked in, and I tried to push myself up.
The face that was so like Dimitri’s appeared above me, the handsome features twisted in a snarl. He shouted at me in unintelligible Russian. His hands fisted in my dress, and the flimsy material parted easily with one jerk of his powerful arms. Cool air washed over my bare skin, and a terrified shriek tore from my lungs.
His hand closed around my throat, silencing me. I could feel his cock hardening against my hip as he choked me, his taut expression easing to smug satisfaction. Revulsion swelled within me, and I groped blindly for a weapon. My fingers closed around a knife. The blade sliced my skin, but I ignored the damage and stabbed at my assailant. He jerked back just in time so that it merely grazed across his shoulder, cutting a crimson line through his white dress shirt.
Taking advantage of the small opening, I slid out from under him and darted away. I had a moment to register that Dimitri was fighting against the men who held him. He growled something at Roman, and the man released him.
His father grabbed my upper arm, spinning me back towards him. I barely had time to register his fist flying at my face before pain burst across my skull. My body collided with the hardwood floor. His shiny black shoe kicked into my gut. I tried to curl up in on myself, but the next blow slammed into my ribs.
The pain was nothing like the controlled torment Dimitri inflicted upon me. This was brutal, savage.
Something hot and wet splattered across my throbbing cheek. I squinted up to see my attacker’s hands clutching at his own throat, trying to hold in the lifeblood that spilled over his fingers. Dimitri shoved his dying body aside and dropped the bloody knife to the floor. His father’s black eyes stared at me with hatred for a few seconds longer, and then they went dark forever.
The guard laid on the floor a few feet away, Roman pummeling his ruined face. Dimitri’s henchman had obviously decided whose orders to obey.
Dimitri crouched beside me and lifted me up in his arms. Pain shot through my chest, and I cried out. His eyes widened with panic, and he clutched me more tightly, as though he could hold me together. I choked on an agonized gasp. My vision went white, then black. I was only dimly aware of Dimitri calling out my name as I fell into the darkness.
My mind was hazy, and my body felt weightless. It should have been alarming, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Dimitri’s face swam into view, and I gave him a small, silly smile.
“Myshka.” His voice strained around the endearment.
“Hi,” I said stupidly. The greeting was thick on my heavy tongue. Confusion set in. I tried to sit upright, and immediately winced. Dimitri’s hand came down on my shoulder, gently pushing me back against the mattress.
“Don’t move,” he ordered. Then he barked something in Russian. His eyes didn’t leave mine, but the words clearly weren’t meant for me.
Something stung the crook of my elbow. “Ouch,” I slurred. I glanced down at my arm just in time to see the strange man pressing down the plunger on the syringe. The memory of the last time I had been drugged flashed across my mind, and fear threaded through the fog in my brain. “Don’t,” I protested.
“You’re okay,” Dimitri shushed me gently. “I am with you.”
This time, the darkness covered me like a warm blanket.
* * * * *
Everything ached, and my mouth was uncomfortably dry. My breath rattled down my parched throat. Cool glass touched my lips, and water spilled over my tongue. I drank it down gratefully.
I opened my eyes to find Dimitri looming over me. Of course he was the one taking care of me. That was only natural. But his expression was strangely strained.
“You will eat. Then I’ll give you more painkillers.”
Painkillers? I became aware of a small, sharp pain in my chest that flared with every shallow breath I took. My left cheek throbbed in time with my heartbeat.
I lifted my fingers to my face to assess the damage, but Dimitri caught my hand before I could make contact. I hissed when he touched a tender place on my palm, and the inhalation only made my chest hurt more. He cursed and released me.
“I’m sorry. I forgot about your stitches.”
“What happened?” I asked, struggling through the fog clouding my mind.
“You needed six stitches where the knife cut your palm. Your face is badly bruised, but it will fade quickly. The doctor says it will be at least six weeks before your fractured ribs fully heal.”
I blinked and took in my surroundings for the first time. Despite the list
of my ailments, I was in Dimitri’s bedroom, not a hospital. I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised that he had a doctor on call. In his violent world, serious injuries must be all too common.
Violent. I remembered his father’s furious snarl as he beat me mercilessly; the stream of crimson blood that gushed from the gory gash across his throat; the knife dropping from Dimitri’s hand.
“You killed your father.” I barely realized I said the words aloud.
His features tightened grimly. “Yes.” The answer was clipped.
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.
Dimitri shrugged. “He wanted to kill you. He believed you were my weakness, and he wanted to teach me a lesson. It was the last time he will treat me like a child.”
I stared at him, searching his face for some shred of grief or remorse. “He was your father,” I finally pointed out, disturbed by his lack of emotion.
“He never loved me.” His eyes suddenly sharpened on mine, and I read the unspoken sentiment in their inky depths. He still believed I loved him.
He gently brushed my hair back from my brow. “He will never hurt you again. I will take control of the Bratva, and no one will ever be able to hurt you.”
No one but you, a little voice whispered across my mind.
But Dimitri didn’t hurt me. Not really. My lover gave me controlled doses of pain meant to bring me to transcendent ecstasy. It was nothing like the bone-cracking agony his father had inflicted upon me. I had looked up into his eyes and seen raw hatred and disdain. He loathed me because his son dared to treat me as a human being.
Dimitri had killed for me. And although the sliver of morality that remained within me told me murder was wrong, I didn’t feel the disgust I should. I felt a swell of gratitude, and something more powerful.