VLAD

by Ker Dukey

  “Vlad…” she moans. “No, please.” Her whines are needy. She says what her heart screams at her to say so she won’t betray her sister, but her body begs for the opposite.

  She wants me to be the bad guy.

  It’s a good damn thing I enjoy the hell out of that notion.

  “No turning back now, little shadow,” I threaten, my teeth nipping at her swollen lip. “You started this, and now, you’ll finish it.”

  Her fingers scratch through my scalp and she nods, but she whispers the words, “No, we can’t.”

  “Of course we can,” I growl. “And we will.”

  I kiss her mouth to muffle her screams as I slide my tip to her tight opening and impale her with a quick, violent thrust that has books falling off the shelf beside us.

  Tight.

  Fuck, my sweet little virgin is tight.

  Her cunt suffocates my cock. It’s her pussy that is the sadist, not me. It’s the one into choking at the moment, and all I can do is let her slowly kill me with pleasure. She’s the best damn thing I’ve ever sunk my dick into.

  “OW!” she cries out, her fingers ripping at my hair. “We can’t do this.” Her words are breathy as her hands tug at me, bringing me closer, contradicting the words slipping off her tongue.

  It’s cute, the battle of what her heart begs and body dictates.

  I slowly pull out, then slam into her again. A loud, ugly sob rips from her, so I silence her with another kiss. One’s virginity loss is never a pleasurable event. At least not for the woman. She’ll hurt for days after as she remembers how I took over her body from the inside out. Like the devil himself sent to invade her soul.

  “Vlad,” she cries, “please.” She whimpers. “We can’t”

  “But we are,” I remind her, pounding harder into her, driving home my point.

  I fuck her hard and fast, kissing her perfect mouth.

  “Vlad,” she pleads again. “Oh God.”

  “I know, little one. I know. Let me own you.”

  Her grip on my hair lessens and she slides her palms to the outside of my neck. She relaxes some, and my chest fills with pride that she trusts me to take care of her. I rock my hips into her, making sure to grind against her sensitive clit with each thrust. Her cunt is dripping from her last orgasm, giving me all the lubrication I need to slide in and out easily. She goes from trying to get away to clinging to me as though I’m a life raft.

  “Vlad…”

  “So perfect,” I breathe against her mouth. “So mine.”

  Her body trembles and quakes, but I know she won’t come like this. Not her first time. So, I fuck her hard and good. Soon, I’ll take hours drawing pleasure from her. When she can thoroughly enjoy it without pain.

  And then…

  Then I’ll bring her into my dark world where pain is the king over pleasure. He rules with an iron fist. And pleasure bends to the will of pain. I will show her my kingdom. She will be my queen.

  I grunt as my nuts seize up with my orgasm. It’s a major test to my willpower, but I manage to slip out of her as I spurt my seed against her lower stomach. We’re both breathing heavily, and she clutches onto me as though she never wants to let go.

  Because of those in our world, she’ll be forced to let go and soon.

  But right here, in this room, she can have me. All of me. The real me.

  I nuzzle my nose along hers, then lean my forehead against hers. “Irina.”

  “Vlad,” she whispers.

  “You’re dangerous to me,” I admit, my voice hoarse and husky.

  “You’ll survive,” she teases.

  Pulling away, I stare into her glimmering eyes. A heavy emotion shines in them—one I’ve seen surface over the years when she looks my way. One that was stronger this afternoon when we kissed. A look that now nearly knocks me over.

  Falling.

  She’s falling so hard.

  I’ll catch her.

  “Nobody can know.” I hate having to ruin this moment with the truth.

  Her lip trembles. “I know.”

  “As do I. We’re the only ones who know.”

  I pull away and set her to her feet. Her entire body shakes as her dress falls into place, my cum creating a wet spot where her stomach is. It speaks to my inner animal. Possessive, crushing thoughts overwhelm me.

  Fucking mine.

  The little sun named Shadow is mine.

  “Vlad?” Her voice is soft and unsure.

  “Yes, solntce moyo?”

  She regards me with a soft expression. “I still want to paint you.”

  My chest cracks open, and I let this girl in. I know it’s foolish. Everyone I let in either dies or betrays me or leaves me. And yet…

  “You will,” I assure her. “Let’s get to it. I’m not done with you yet.”

  I don’t think I’ll ever be done with her.

  The events of the day wear on me and I find myself drifting to sleep in the armchair in Irina’s new room. She’s been in her bathroom for what feels like forever. I fall sleep until her soft voice awakens me.

  “Vlad?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Can you lose the jacket?”

  I blink open my eyes to find her sitting on the floor in front of me. Her easels must be still packed away, but I can see where she’s dragged out items from bags and spread them around her. Paints and brushes. A blank canvas. Her wet hair is twisted into a messy bun and her face is free of makeup. Freckles that are usually hidden by makeup make their appearance, reminding me of when she was younger.

  “You’re beautiful,” I murmur.

  She smiles at me. “Thank you. Now get naked.”

  “Naked?” I chuckle at her boldness, but rise to my feet. She’s so damn cute in a black tank top and tight, black yoga pants. Her feet are bare and I have the urge to kiss them. Never in my life have I wanted to kiss someone’s feet. But with her little painted toes wiggling, I’m thinking kissing her feet sounds entirely too enticing.

  Pulling off my jacket, I drape it over the back of my chair. Her brows are furrowed as she watches me. I pluck through the buttons of my vest and lose it along with my tie. I slowly undo my dress shirt, enjoying the hungry way she’s watching me.

  “How’s your cunt?” I ask.

  Her cheeks burn bright red. “Fine.”

  I chuckle and slide the shirt off my shoulders. When I tug off the wife beater, I regard her with a lifted brow. “Want me to keep going?”

  She swallows and nods. “I know what I want to paint. Keep going.”

  Amused, I unbuckle my belt and send my slacks to the floor, kicking out of them and my shoes. She points at my socks, and I laugh. When I start to pull off my black boxer briefs, she stops me.

  “Leave those on and sit back down. You can go back to sleep if you want.” Her embarrassment fades as she busies herself with her paints.

  “I was just sure you wanted to paint my dick,” I tease.

  She lets out a cute laugh. “Typical male. It’s not all about the penis. It’s about the male form.” Her skin flushes. “Not just any male. You.”

  I settle into the chair and sprawl my legs out. Seeing her look so damn adorable in her element has my cock hardening again.

  “Hey now,” she says playfully, “keep that thing in check. I have a man to paint.”

  I chuckle. It’s real and uncharacteristic for me. She makes me feel free, unburdened, and young. She makes me feel like a man and a boy all in one. I’ve never felt so relaxed around another person before. I’ve taken my clothes off, but she makes me feel naked. Like I’m baring not just my skin and body, but also my soul.

  I scratch at the side of my jaw as I stare at her. She’s beautiful when she paints. Her eyes seem to glaze over as she sees parts of the world nobody else sees. I find myself enraptured in her stare. After a while of her quietly painting, I start to drift off again.

  “Vlad?”

  “Mmm?” I don’t open my eyes.

  “Keep doing what you’re
doing.”

  What am I doing?

  The sounds of her light breathing lull me to sleep and dreams of her bombard me as I drift deeper into the unknown. This thing between us won’t last—it can’t—but I want it to. With all that I am.

  Keep doing what I’m doing?

  That shouldn’t be a problem.

  Even if I have to keep doing it in secret.

  I wake buried under a mountain of covers. A yawn steals over me as I push the blankets away and squint at the morning sun. I look over at the chair in my room, but Vlad is no longer there. Vaguely, I remember him carrying me to bed after I fell asleep.

  Everything hurts.

  I feel bruised and used.

  But I also feel good too.

  My pussy hurts, but triumph surges through me. I did it. I managed to distract and get the great Vlad Vasiliev to fuck me so he won’t kill my sister. Easy. I’m a genius.

  Except now, I feel like I’ve made things ten times more complicated. Sure, I allowed my sister to sleep with Ven without interruption by distracting her fiancé into taking my virginity, and if that isn’t screwed up, I don’t know what is.

  I slide out of my bed and rush over to my painting. It’s crude and messy, but I love it. Vlad, asleep and vulnerable. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful, except the real thing, of course. I could stare at him like this for hours.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  “Irina,” Diana calls out on the other side of the door. It’s then I realize it’s closed and locked. I didn’t panic. I felt safe last night. The thought is surprising, and I tuck it away to ponder later.

  “Coming!” I shove the canvas under the bed and rush over to the door.

  When I open it, she is a picture of perfection. She no longer wears a scarf, but she’s covered her love bite with makeup. “Good morning, lazy buns. Do you know what time it is?”

  I shrug. “No. Why?”

  “It’s just not like you to sleep the day away. Especially with all that banging going on down the hall.” She sighs as she regards me. “Thank you.”

  I lift my brows. “For what?”

  “For distracting Vlad. I knew you were trying to protect me. I’ve been careless, and I’m sorry you felt you needed to pick up the slack. Thanks for distracting him.” She looks around and eyes the paints on the floor. “Yuri said you were painting Vlad for me. Where’s the painting?”

  “Uh, he took it. You can’t see your wedding gift early,” I say in exasperation. I quickly change the subject. “Did you…?”

  She blinks slowly and smiles. “We took the stolen opportunity, yes. Made love, and then I sent him away from my room before anyone would notice.” She toys with a lock of messy hair that’s fallen loose from my bun. “One day, you’ll understand what it feels like to have sex. It’s unlike anything you’ll ever experience.”

  Oh, do I know…

  “Sounds interesting,” I murmur.

  “It hurts at first,” she tells me, her brows furling. “My first time, I cried. A lot.” She shudders, and for a brief moment, my sister looks haggard. Broken and depressed. I hate the look on her. This is not my Diana. “But you grow to love it. It’s like they get inside your mind and live there. They say all the right things that sing to your heart.” She sighs. “Love is painful sometimes.”

  “Diana,” I start, but the words fall short. “I just want you to be happy.”

  Her nostrils flare, and she frowns. “Happiness isn’t with Vlad Vasiliev. I knew this when I agreed to marry him.” I note the bitterness in her tone. It’s so strange to me because I feel the opposite. Last night, Vlad uncovered a new part of me. Those hours after we had sex and I painted him, I felt closer to him than I ever felt toward anyone. Even Diana.

  “I think happiness can be found with Vlad,” I murmur, my words more for me than her.

  “You’ve much to learn, Shadow.” She kisses me on the head and starts for the door. “I want to meet later. We have to make a new game plan now that Father has made a mess of things.”

  “Of course. We’ll figure it out,” I assure her.

  She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and then she’s gone. As soon as she leaves, I walk into the bathroom and look at my reflection. I’m a terrible person. Lying to my sister. Fucking her fiancé behind her back. Ugh. I peel off my tank top. Maybe a shower will cleanse away this dirty feeling. When I notice the paint across my abdomen, I gasp.

  Mine.

  Black paint.

  Neat, precise writing.

  I run my fingers across the letters and can’t fight the smile on my lips. This game Vlad and I are playing…I like it. I like it a lot.

  Unlike at the recent V Games, I just hope a Volkov doesn’t lose to a Vasiliev.

  Something tells me silly, hopeful girls shouldn’t be playing with violent, masterful men.

  Perhaps in some games there are two winners…

  I clench my thighs and wince at the lingering pain.

  Perhaps not.

  There’s a different atmosphere around here today. But I’m not sure if it’s just that I feel different—more like a woman, yet the giddy feeling of being a girl as well. It’s different. I walk into the kitchen to find Vika and Vlad in a heated discussion. Diana is standing close by with her arms folded across her chest and a look of annoyance on her pretty pursed lips.

  “What’s going on?” I ask her in a hushed tone, budging up next to her.

  “Vika being a petulant child as usual,” she hisses.

  I drag my eyes back over to the two of them. Vlad’s pulse ticks in his neck and his jaw is clenched. His eyes are fire and brimstone as he peers down at his sister. She appears to realize she’s poking a tiger in his own cage and deflates.

  “Fine,” she concedes with an exasperated huff. “I’ll go. Diana can accompany me.” She turns her sickly smile in our direction, and Diana smiles tightly back at her. “We are going to be sisters, after all.”

  “Of course, I’d love to help pick out your dress,” Diana says sweetly. “Maybe I can shop for my own while we’re there.”

  Images of Diana wearing a wedding dress standing beside Vlad conjure up in my mind and I wilt inside. A dying flower starved of light. She will be a beautiful bride.

  “It’s a long trip, so pack an overnight bag,” Vika tells Diana on her way out of the kitchen, tossing her scarf over her shoulder and whipping me in the face with it. Bitch.

  “Perfect,” Diana huffs out, following Vika’s exit.

  I watch the door close softly behind her, then turn my gaze on Vlad, who is staring back at me, a fierce hunger in his eyes.

  We’re alone.

  Being alone with him makes my skin heat and my body burn from the inside out.

  “How did you sleep?” he asks, the rasp in his throat signaling the equal effect I have on him. My head swims and heat spreads throughout my stomach, pooling in my core.

  “Fine, thank you,” I squeak out, my nerves rattling me. “Sheesh, I’m starving. Would you like some breakfast? Can I fix you something?” I escape his nearness and hurry over to the fridge. My legs feel heavy, like I’m dragging lead weights across the room.

  His shoes squeak across the tile behind me, signaling his approach. “It’s noon, Irina,” he says lowly, a husky growl rumbling through him. “But yes, I could eat.” With that, he blocks the way between me and the refrigerator, grasps me under the arms, and sits me on the edge of the counter.

  “Vlad!” I whisper-yell, placing my hands on his shoulders to push him away. His strength is no match for me. He forces my legs to part and wedges himself between them. “Diana could come back!” I say desperately.

  Ignoring my worry, he slaps the counter on either side of my legs. “Lie back,” he instructs. When I gape at him, he pushes my dress up my thighs and starts tugging down my panties. Wearing dresses has never been my thing, but I must say, they’ve been awfully convenient lately. I take back everything negative I ever thought about them.

  My heart h
ammers inside my chest and my head swims with need, fear, and excitement all rolled into one. He lifts my feet and places them on the edge of the counter, opening me up for his eyes to devour. My panties get shoved into his pocket for safekeeping. Embarrassment washes through me, but it’s replaced with a groan when he dips his head and kisses me between my thighs. I gasp and collapse back onto the counter, the cold surface penetrating my fevered flesh through the fabric of my dress.

  Oh God.

  His greedy mouth. His hot, slick tongue. His powerful, wandering hands.

  Too much.

  He feasts on me, like I’m a buffet laid out just for him. And I am. Just. For. Him. Warm laps of his tongue travel the length of my lips, separating them and finding the throbbing clit hidden away inside.

  I grasp the side of the counter to ground myself. I feel like I’m floating away on a cloud of ecstasy. Do all men do this? Does it always feel this good?

  My back arches as he sucks my clit into his mouth. I feel a swirling building in my stomach and heat spreading throughout my body in waves. Something prods at my opening, and then I’m filled with what I believe to be his finger. It hurts and pleasures in the same breath. I’m flying. I’m going to come undone right here on the kitchen counter.

  I startle when the kitchen door opens and a male voice chokes out, “Blyad, prostite, gospodin.” Fuck, sorry, sir.

  I hurry to sit up and frantically push my dress down to hide what we’ve been doing. Vlad stares at me wolfishly, a sheen of my juices coating his mouth.

  He’s the hunter and I’m the prey.

  Vlad murmurs an order meant for only me to hear. “Zakroy svoi glaza, solntce moyo.” Close your eyes, my sun.

  My insides cramp with worry and I can’t do as he asks. Instead, I watch in guilt-ridden horror as he prowls toward the man who backs up knowing he’s walked into something he won’t walk out of.

  “Vlad,” he pleads, but Vlad is quick, silent, and as deadly as they come. His arm snaps out, landing a closed fist to the man’s throat. The man gasps in shock and grasps at his larynx, making a wheezing sound. His eyes are wide and panicked. Vlad rounds him, slipping something from his pocket and clasping an arm around the man, putting him in a headlock.