Unfortunately, Ivan had been old-school, as was his uncle Vasile. He had to show that a new way would work before the old man would sign off on it. He knew that, so he forced himself to handle the tasks that had to be done even though he would have liked to spend the last three days at Tara’s side. If he hadn’t had to leave her for hours at a time, he was certain she would have broken that much faster.
Now, as he made his way to her room, he experienced a swell of pity at the thought of breaking her. He could see no other alternative, but he hoped she would still retain her sassy mouth and the spark in her eyes even after she accepted her role as his lyubovnik. He wanted to break her defiance, but he didn’t want to break everything about Tara that made her unique.
If her spirit was crushed, she would simply be a body, another empty vessel into which to spill his seed and move on. The thought sent a pang through his chest, and he reevaluated his goal. Perhaps he had dominated her enough.
As soon as the door opened, and he had stepped inside, he pressed his hand to the panel to close it again. She was sitting against the headboard, arms confined to the headboard and bent backward. She looked uncomfortable, but worst of all, there was no sparkle in her eyes, not even from hatred or anger, as he approached.
Feeling remorseful, but knowing this had to conclude, Alexei undressed quickly. This time, he was going to take her completely, and to hell with whether or not she had broken enough. He was breaking her, and it was a crime. Perhaps the worst crime he’d ever committed, to break something so beautiful and fragile, even with her core of inner strength.
She watched him with dull eyes, not responding even when he loosened the straps that held her wrists and eased her arms to her side. Alexei cupped her chin, making her look up at him. He was relieved to see a flash of anger in her gaze, though her expression remained impassive. “Lisichka.” He didn’t know what else to say as he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. Would she read the remorse in his expression and voice?
Perhaps she had, because her eyes widened slightly, and her mouth softened as he pressed his thumb against the seam of her lips, easing the digit inside. She could have bitten him, but instead, she twirled her tongue around the tip of his thumb. It was unbelievably erotic, and he shuddered with pleasure.
Unable to resist her, he bent and lifted her into his arms, holding her tightly against him as he devoured her mouth. There was no attempted domination or mastery. He just wanted to taste her and savor her. She was slow to respond, but when she did, her kisses were enthusiastic, her tongue stroking his. It was all he could do to keep from parting her thighs and plunging right into her. She was probably ready, and he certainly was, but he wanted to make sure. He didn’t want to hurt her again.
Alexei sat on the bed, keeping her on his lap. He continued kissing her as he stroked her breasts, unable to be gentle in his need for her. She didn’t seem to mind his rough handling as he tugged forcefully on her nipples, making her cry out against his mouth with a sound that was pure pleasure.
It was only when his hand went lower, one cupping her hip and the other moving between her legs, that she broke the kiss and shook her head. “Please, no more. I can’t take another round. You’re killing me, Alexei.”
“Shush, lisichka. I promise you pleasure this time. And every other time after this.”
Her eyes widened, and there was a hint of hope in them, but far more disbelief. That made him draw in a sharp breath as his chest ached under the force of her skepticism. He had succeeded in crushing her resistance, but had also destroyed any chance of having her trust him.
This was the price he paid to keep her. Though he deserved it, it still stung to know he had likely irreparably damaged his little fox and had ruined any chance of having a real connection with her. He’d never wanted such a thing with one of his partners before, but everything was different with her. He had ruined everything.
Everything except sex. They could still connect there, and he could still give her satisfaction. They could still find pleasure in each other, even if she was untrusting of his intentions and didn’t believe he would take care of her. With renewed determination, he plunged his fingers into her slick pussy, immediately finding her g-spot and pressing firmly against it as he circled her clitoris with his thumb.
He was determined to get her off quickly, to ease some of her suffering. In less than a minute, her cunt was twitching and convulsing around his hand, and a stream of her arousal leaked from her. Her sweet cries of release made his cock twitch, but he held back the urge to plunge inside her and fuck her mindlessly. She deserved more than a quick orgasm followed by a hard fuck.
She was still in the throes of release when he laid her back, making sure her head didn’t collide with the footboard as he rearranged his position to lie between her legs, splaying her thighs and feasting on her sweet slit. Before now, engaged in orgasm denial to break her, he’d had to go slowly and carefully, gauging her response to be certain he was pushing her to the edge without taking her over.
Now, he was liberated, and he could give in to the urges pulsing through him. He licked and sucked vigorously, tasting her and savoring her. He couldn’t seem to tear his tongue away from her sweet little clit, and she made no effort to push him away, screaming her pleasure when he sucked on the taut little bud and made her explode again.
He stopped the pressure just long enough to allow her to come down from that orgasm, to soothe the supersensitive state, before he began to suck and lick again. He repeated the cycle several times, losing count as he continuously pleasured his little fox. He was trying to make up for the last three days of having tortured her, and when she finally begged him to stop, she seemed to be a sated, exhausted mess.
He grinned his satisfaction at reducing her to that state before shifting positions to bring the head of his cock against her dripping cunt. “You’re mine now.”
She nodded, either incapable of arguing or not wanting to. It was difficult to know which, and he didn’t wish to probe too deeply. He wanted to believe that she was surrendering to him because she chose to, because she recognized how much pleasure they could give each other, and not because she had reached the point where she’d accepted she had no choice.
That had been his goal, but seeing how it had hurt his little fox, he now wished he had never had the idea. It had been a quick and brutal way to break her, but he should have put more time into it. If he had spent the time to earn her trust rather than break her defiance, the act of claiming her would have been that much sweeter.
It was still plenty fucking sweet, and he grunted his pleasure as he finally allowed his dick to enter her cunt. She was so wet that he slid completely inside her, balls-deep, and it was perfection. She was tight around him, and even in her spent state, she managed to summon the energy to wrap her thighs around his waist, locking him against her.
As he thrust in and out of her, staring down into her sated eyes, Alexei had the strangest thought that he was the one surrendering to her. If he hadn’t been blitzed out on passion, he might have panicked at the thought. Instead, as he thrust in and out of her, soon reaching the edge of climax, he decided he didn’t mind surrendering to his lisichka, at least in the bedroom. He couldn’t allow this weakness anywhere else or in any other aspect between them, but here and now, as he spilled himself inside her, he didn’t care on what terms he had her as long as she was his.
“Mine,” he grunted, sounding more like an animal than a man as he climaxed.
She didn’t argue or look away, and her pussy twitched around him as his orgasm triggered one for her. She let out a low keening cry as she convulsed under him, clinging tightly to him as she came slowly and for a long moment, each spasm of her sheath milking another spurt from him.
Afterward, they collapsed together into an exhausted heap, and he pulled her as tightly against him as he could, never wanting to let go.
* * *
She had completely passed out from the pleasure, coupled with the exhausti
on of multiple orgasms after days of anticipation. Tara had been unaware of Alexei leaving, and when she woke, strong sunlight was streaming through the window, indicating it was late in the morning. She was sore and aching, but she felt amazing. She also had to pee.
She rolled from the bed and hurried to the bathroom, seeing to her needs before stepping into a bracing shower. She was sore between her legs, but it was a good ache, one from intense release. She’d never come like that in her life, and she wondered if it had something to do with having been denied for so many days, or if it was just Alexei himself that inspired those sorts of orgasms.
She should be ashamed of how she had given in, how she had begged him to fuck her, but she couldn’t summon the energy for self-hatred at the moment. She could only fight for so long, and when the outcome was going to be the same either way, why waste the energy? It seemed more sensible to win his trust and find another way to escape than to keep expending all her strength fighting the sexual attraction between them.
That part made her wriggle with shame as she stepped from the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She was blindingly attracted to a murderer, who was part of the Russian mafia. She knew he’d killed people, having witnessed at least one death herself, but it did nothing to detract from how much she wanted him. Even before he’d engaged in his torturous game of orgasm denial, she had been attracted to him. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, and she had fought against it, but it was counterproductive to finding a way out to keep wasting energy on denying the truth.
The truth was simple and clear. She wanted Alexei Varnakov. She wanted to spend hours worshiping his body as he did the same to her. She wanted to come with him multiple times as she had the night before. She wanted to do all sorts of darkly sexual things with him. It was better to know that now, so she could tailor a course of action with that in mind.
Feeling liberated from her decision, rather than weighed down with guilt, she finished preparing for the day before returning to the room. She had been too preoccupied with the need to visit the restroom before to notice changes, but now she stopped and took it all in.
For one thing, the French doors were unlocked and open, allowing her access to the balcony. For another, the closet was full of clothing. Alexei had left the door open on that as well, clearly wanting to make sure she realized she had access to a wardrobe now.
Giving in to the feminine urge, she walked into the spacious area, a little overwhelmed by all the choices. She’d never owned so many clothes in all her life, and just a few glances at tags confirmed she’d never owned anything so expensive either. These were all designer-label clothes, and they were all in her size. She didn’t have to try on everything to know it would all fit.
She went to the dresser that was built in to the wall, opening the top drawer to find a frothy rainbow of frilly underthings awaiting her. The labels all read La Perla, and they were all exquisite, whether they were satin, lace, or cotton. She chose a pair almost randomly, ending up with red bikinis with a butterfly lace pattern. She slipped on the ridiculously expensive panties, moaning with delight at how they felt against her skin. She was still tender between her legs, but the soft, silky cotton did nothing to aggravate the area.
She was disconcerted as she searched through the underwear only to realize there wasn’t a bra anywhere. She frowned at the discovery, shaking her head in annoyance. The other drawers revealed everything from practical socks to silk stockings so fine they must have been handspun. There was an abundance of sleepwear, from serviceable gowns to almost nonexistent negligees that wouldn’t last five minutes if she wore them for Alexei, but still no bras.
Irritated, she went to the racks of clothes, finding a section of dresses. Each one had a built-in bra, and several tops did as well. Apparently, he intended for her to wear breast support only in public.
Vaguely, she remembered him saying something about no bras, but she had thought that was simply more of his dominant male bullshit. She didn’t appreciate him completely taking the choice from her, but if she were honest with herself, she would admit she didn’t particularly care about not wearing a bra around home.
Not that this was home. This was Alexei’s house and her prison until she found a way to escape, but the principle was similar. In her own home, she often lived in yoga pants and T-shirts, skipping bras for days at a time unless she had to go out somewhere. It was one of the joys of working from home, and if she’d had a pile of bras from which to choose, she still probably would have skipped wearing one.
That didn’t mean she was going to just accept this easily, and she made a note to mention to Alexei that she should have a few bras for whatever occasions might arise. By buying this extensive wardrobe, she dared to hope that perhaps at some point in the future, he planned to at least allow her out of this room. Otherwise, why would she need fancy cocktail dresses and even a couple of ball gowns? Unless he wanted her to parade around as his own personal fashion plate?
That thought held little appeal, which led her to deliberately selecting the most comfortable clothes she could find. There were no yoga pants, but there was a pair of cotton leggings, and she paired it with a white tunic that was slightly oversized. She definitely wasn’t sexy, but she supposed that didn’t matter. Alexei wouldn’t be deterred by her simple outfit, and it wouldn’t take much for him to inspire her to shed the clothes and join him in bed.
Briskly banishing all thoughts of sex from her mind, or at least attempting to, she returned to the bedroom area and walked out to the balcony. A breakfast tray awaited her there, and she sat to soak in the sunshine and breathe deeply, appreciating fresh air more than she ever had in her life.
The fresh air stimulated her appetite, and Tara finished her breakfast quickly, feeling pleasantly satisfied when she taken the last bite. She stood up from the patio chair, carrying the glass of orange juice with her to the railing to look out and down. She was curious about Alexei’s estate, but she was also interested to see if there were any weak points that she could observe from her viewpoint.
A sense of disappointment crept over her as she surveyed the rugged landscape around her. As she had remembered correctly from the first night he’d brought her here, there was a large wall encompassing the grounds near the house.
There were guard towers at each corner, and even in the daytime, men walked the perimeter of the high fence. She did her best to avoid making eye contact with any of the three men walking the circuit, deliberately gazing over them to the open space beyond. It couldn’t be more than an hour outside the city, but it was like living in a different world entirely. Rolling hills and trees met her gaze as far as she could see, and it was clear that if she somehow managed to escape the house, the only way out of here would be in a vehicle. She was no survivor-type, and she had nowhere near the skills required to make her way back to the city through the forest between her and the concrete jungle.
With a small sigh, she returned her gaze to the inner perimeter of the wall, examining the other aspects of Alexei’s home. It was a large brick building, and she estimated at least four stories. The grounds included a tennis court, swimming pool, hot tub, and carefully landscaped vegetation.
The only hint of messiness in the perfection was a garden patch currently occupied by an older man, who was digging with enthusiasm, though perhaps not a lot of skill. As she looked down at him, he happened to glance up, and their eyes met. Looking into his lined face, it was like a distorted, aged version of Alexei, and she assumed it must be his father. She smiled down at him, and he lifted a hand to wave at her.
“Good morning,” he called up to her. “Stop dawdling and come help me plant these bulbs, myshka.”
She looked around, wondering for a moment if perhaps he was actually talking to someone on the balcony above hers, but his gaze appeared focused on her. “I’m not sure I can,” she said, raising her voice enough to be heard.
He waved a hand. “I’ll send Yuri to fetch you.” Turning his head, he spoke in R
ussian to someone out of her line-of-sight.
She didn’t think it would actually happen, but she nodded and continued chatting with the older man as the minutes passed. It must have been somewhere around fifteen minutes later that she heard the door of her room opening. She glanced through the balcony door, expecting to see Alexei instead of Yuri. Her heart clenched with fear as she remembered he probably wasn’t her biggest fan, since she had kicked him in the chest. There was no sign of any emotional reaction in his expression, other than a bit of impatience when he gestured her forward.
Feeling slightly confused, but hopeful that she was actually going to get out of this room, she paused long enough to put her now-empty orange juice glass on the patio table before walking toward Yuri. “Hello,” she said nervously.
He inclined his head. “Gospodin Varnakov wishes to see you.”
She nodded and followed him, uncertain if he was referring to Alexei or the senior Varnakov. The answer became clear after she followed him down three flights of stairs and out a side entrance, before stopping at the gardening area where the older man was puttering with his supplies.
She nodded her thanks to Yuri and was surprised when he took up a post just a few feet from them, clearly there to guard her. She wondered if Alexei knew she was out, but assumed he must. It seemed unlikely Yuri would have let her out on his own, even on the orders of the elder man.
“Hello,” she said again as she knelt in the dirt beside the older man. She held out her hand, and he stared at it for a moment before taking it in his. He wasn’t wearing gardening gloves, but she bit back an instinctive urge to tell him that was unsanitary. He wouldn’t care about toxoplasmosis in the soil, and as a grownup, he didn’t need someone mothering him. “It’s lovely to meet you. My name is Tara.”
“I’m Ivan Varnakov. Help me plant these bulbs, myshka.” It was a command, but given gently, and even the use of the unknown word didn’t feel insulting or condescending.
MAFIA: Dark Romance Collection Page 29