by Nikki Sloane
But his skin was on fire like mine. Luka’s tongue filled my mouth as the pads of his fingers swept and stirred, and I moaned softly.
Had I cracked an invisible whip? Luka sank to his knees and tugged my underwear down my legs, pulling one foot free and then the other.
“Wider,” he ordered, pushing on my knee and getting me to stand with my feet wide on the bathmat.
“Mmmm,” I whimpered, strangling back the full moan. He’d planted a kiss right on my most sensitive spot. His forceful hands trapped my hips and held me still, and then he got to work.
Holy shit. I slid six inches down on the door, my skin squealing on the glass, as heat blasted up my legs. His soft, wet tongue made me squirm and left me dizzy with confusion. Once again, I wasn’t supposed to want pleasure from him. I should be clawing his eyes out, not holding back moans and running my fingers through his soft, thick hair.
“I like that I’m not tasting anyone else’s cock right now. This pussy is all for me. Only for me.”
My eyes slammed shut and I tipped my head back, panting though my open lips. Emotions and sensations battled for attention. Luka’s hands were braced on my waist, and they were the only thing keeping me upright. My trembling legs were made of jelly.
He paused only for a moment. “Repeat it.”
“This . . .” The word was dirty, and I faltered for a moment. “This pussy is only for you.”
Saying it out loud catapulted me right to the edge. Everything was tingling and my heart raced. Need clawed inside, threatening to tear me to shreds.
“Oh, God. Oh, God . . .” I pulled at his hair, overwhelmed as the orgasm bore down.
Luka sucked at my clit, and his fingers dug in, denting the skin on my hips, which triggered my release. The climax was intense. I opened my mouth to cry out, but the pleasure stole the sound from my voice. I arched my back, my body possessed, and then I slammed back into the glass with a loud bang.
I groaned as the last wave passed, and reality came back into focus.
He wasn’t kneeling anymore. Luka stood over me, watching every breath I took intently. There was no outward reaction. His eyebrow didn’t hint at displeasure, and his mouth didn’t lift into a soft smile, but I sensed his satisfaction. He’d enjoyed making me come.
It wasn’t a reward for what we’d done in the bedroom, I was fairly sure. This had been about power. He was ensuring I was still under his spell.
“If I let go of you,” he said, “will you fall? Your legs are shaking pretty bad.” He didn’t use a patronizing tone, but the edge lingered and was further proof of how much he liked having the upper hand.
“I’m fine,” I said, pushing off of the glass to stand. It took an enormous effort not to sway, but I did it.
He released me, yanked open the shower door, and gestured. “Get in.”
I hesitantly stepped in and was relieved when he shut the now-fogged door behind me. Both the shower and the bathroom were well lit, and I was horribly uncomfortable being naked in front of him. It was something I was going to need to get over. As a doctor, nudity would be necessary, but that was different. It wasn’t sexual nudity.
I couldn’t put myself in that mindset here. Everything about Luka was sexual.
The shower was tiled with pretty green and blue glass accents, and there was a low ledge on the wall opposite the shower head. It was just big enough to consider it a seat. The water was hot as I stepped under the steady stream and closed my eyes.
How long would he give me to shower? Long enough to make sense of all the shit that just happened?
No. Cold air wafted as the door swung out and my eyes fluttered open to see a fully naked Luka step into the shower. I scrambled backward and turned away to stare at the wall. “What are you doing?”
“Saving time. We’re having dinner with my father in an hour.”
My gaze burned a hole in the tile. “What?”
Of course he didn’t say anything. I pictured him with an annoyed look plastered on, not wanting to repeat himself when I’d obviously heard him. Which I had, but it didn’t mean I understood. He wanted to hold me prisoner here, and meet his parents?
There was a quiet thud, and I glanced over my shoulder to see him set my shower caddy on the ledge.
“You won’t talk during dinner,” Luka said. “Answer questions if he asks, but that’s it.”
Since he couldn’t see me, I made a face.
Stupid. I should have guessed he’d know. Maybe my body language had given me away. I found myself spun around and my back flattened against the wall. He loomed above and his face was deadly serious.
“This is fucking important, you understand?” He looked . . . different. Holy hell, he looked concerned. It was such a strange fit on him. “My father’s an asshole. He’s mean, and cruel, and decisive, so you won’t say a goddamn word, or he’ll make you regret it.”
I blinked against the water misting in my face. It was coming off of Luka as the shower beat against him, but he didn’t pay any attention. It ran in rivulets over his shoulders and down his chest, and I wanted to watch the path it carved, but didn’t dare take my gaze off of his onyx-colored eyes.
“Not a word,” he repeated, every syllable weighted.
“Okay,” I whispered. His intense stare made me uncomfortable, and my awkwardness couldn’t be contained. “How does you being in my way in the shower save time?”
The muscle along his jaw flexed.
Since it was his only response, I pushed further. “Or did you mean we didn’t have time to play ‘Let’s drown Addison in the bathtub’ again?”
Uh oh. The eyebrow arrowed upward and a scowl threatened. “I wasn’t going to drown you. That was a lesson so you’d understand who’s in charge.”
“Oh. Not me,” I said, my words bitter. “Got it.”
His cold façade snapped back into place. “I told you, these first few days will be hard. You can make it easier on yourself by not fighting. It just wastes energy. I’m going to win every time.”
I swallowed down the rising anger. Let him believe that, I thought. The faster he got comfortable in his position on top, the sooner he’d make a mistake. Plus, he couldn’t be around me twenty-four seven. He had a job.
I took a page from his book and let my face go blank. I didn’t say anything. I grabbed my shampoo bottle, turned away from him, and lathered my hair as quickly as possible. But Luka was standing under the water. To rinse off, he’d have to move out of the way. Why did he have to make everything so difficult?
It must have been clear I was waiting to get under the shower. He pulled me to him until my back was pressed against his hard chest and we shared the water cascading from the huge, fancy-looking showerhead. This wasn’t saving time at all. Was he . . . using this as an excuse to put his arms around me? I rinsed the last of the suds from my hair, and stayed in his unexpected embrace. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I keep having to remind myself that I hated him?
While I refused to admit I liked his strong arms around me, I could not get myself to step away.
“What about your mother?” I asked.
His tone was guarded. “What about her?”
He’d only mentioned his father, so I assumed his parents were divorced. “Where is she?”
“She died when I was nine.”
There was a stab of pain in my heart. “Oh.” Good lord, what was I supposed to say? Something sympathetic? I was ill-equipped to offer him any words of comfort.
Luka’s arms eased away, and painful awkwardness descended on us. I stepped into the corner out of the water and stared blankly at the pattern in the tile while he showered. It was cold, and I crossed my arms over my chest to hold in my shiver.
“Okay,” he said dryly, “the shy girl routine has got to go. Turn around.”
I frowned. “I can’t just shut that off.”
“You will, because I like looking at you. You’re fucking gorgeous.”
His words were a sucker punch to my
center. Gorgeous? I was average at best. No one noticed mousy, proper Addison.
No one but Luka, apparently. I closed my eyes and turned in a slow circle until I faced him.
“Eyes open,” he said. “Stop hiding from me.”
I opened my eyes to glare at him, but he wasn’t looking at my face. His gaze swept appreciatively over my body, lingering on my breasts, before it finally settling on my eyes. There wasn’t a hint of a lie in his expression. Only desire. I had no idea how to feel about it.
Bottles and other shower accessories were shoved to one side of the ledge, and when Luka stood back up, he pointed to the bench. “Sit.”
I had to remind myself of the end goal. I would play my part as the obedient captive until the time was right. I lowered to sit and cringed at the cold tile against my bare skin.
“Good,” he said softly.
His all-seeing gaze was fixed on me, so I focused on the water swirling down the drain at his feet. The direction of the shower shifted away from us. He must have moved the showerhead. He sank down onto his knees before me, setting his dripping hands on my knees that were pinched together. His palms pried my legs apart, shoving me wide even as I began to resist. “Open.”
He was so much stronger than I was, and it forced my full attention on him. His hair was black when wet, and it only made him look more dangerous. More sinister and seductive. He edged closer between my legs so I couldn’t shut them, and his palms pressed me wide until I was entirely exposed.
“When I give you your signal, this is how wide you spread for me.”
What? I gaped at him. “Signal?”
He snapped his fingers in my face.
I lost the tenuous control on my emotions. “Are you fucking serious?”
Oh, it was the wrong thing to say. I was unaware his eyebrow could arch all the way up his forehead, like a barometer of displeasure. His fingers curled inward and he raked his nails over my thighs, leaving tracks that stung.
“Yeah, I’m fucking serious,” he growled. “If I want access to you, you’ll give it to me at the goddamn snap of my fingers.”
12
LUKA LAUNCHED TO HIS FEET, blocking most of the overhead light, and backlit like that . . . he looked menacing and scary. I sat upright, my back straight as a board and my knees pulled together. I didn’t like being talked down to or scolded.
It happened in slow motion. His hand extended out to me until it was an inch from the tip of my nose, and his fingers moved, producing a crack that reverberated like thunder. Play your part, Addison. It was humiliating and I wasn’t sure if I could do it. Spreading my legs for him on command made me feel sick and inferior.
But if I didn’t, what would happen? Would he retrieve his belt from the bedroom and find a different way to use it on me? Or would his powerful hands wrap around my throat and leave marks this time? I was too terrified to find out.
I peeled my legs apart and looked away, not wanting him to see I was blinking back tears.
“Jesus, you look so good.” He was back on his knees again, only this time his hands smoothed gently up my thighs, captured my waist, and pulled me tight to him. His mouth dropped kisses from the base of my neck to the shell of my ear.
He’d said he controlled every part of me, so I put myself on autopilot and found a way to retreat inward. He wasn’t kissing me anymore, it was a husk. A shell who simply looked like me. When he ordered me to kiss him back, my body performed the task, but the connection he’d been able to forge before didn’t work this time. He was sending lust and passion, but receiving none in return.
Abruptly he pulled back, mumbled something about needing to hurry, and tugged us both to our feet. When the shower was over and he handed me a towel, I flung it quickly around myself, relieved. He had no problem being naked, and I was annoyed at how comfortable he was without a stitch of clothing on.
“What else do you need to get ready?” he asked.
My face heated. “New underwear?” He’d brought me the dress and a clean bra, but forgotten that.
His expression was plain. “No. You won’t wear anything under your dress.”
It was crushing, and went against everything I knew. I was meeting his father and he wanted me bare and exposed? This was another instance of Luka flexing his power over me, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
We both dressed quickly, not saying a word, and when it was done, he crossed his arms and casually leaned against the bathroom counter, watching me expectantly.
“If you had full control over my closet, why the dress?” I asked, towel drying my hair.
“Because it’s important you make a good impression.”
I slowed my movements, considering his statement. He’d told me his dad was an asshole. That didn’t sound like Luka cared much for his father. Why was he concerned with what the asshole thought of me? And wasn’t Luka an adult?
“I also assume,” Luka continued, “you’ll want to look your best. You’ll feel more comfortable like this.”
“I’d feel more comfortable with underwear.”
Amusement flashed and then vanished from him. “No. I like you like this, knowing I can touch you anytime I want.” To prove his point, his hand darted between my knees and traveled up swiftly, brushing through my cleft.
I gasped and stepped away.
“So shy again. Where’s the girl who likes my belt wrapped around her delicate, little throat?”
He was saying it to get a reaction from me, and I unfortunately delivered. My gaze swung to the floor in confusion. My bravery seemed to be directly proportional to the amount of control he held over me. Now that I was dressed, I felt like I had some power back, but my courage had evaporated.
“That was . . .” I started, but had no idea how to finish the sentence. “That wasn’t who I am.”
He made a noise which was almost like a chuckle, but it was dark and wicked. “You’re wrong.” Luka had his hands on me in an instant, creeping around my waist and sliding up my back. “I’m gonna rattle the monster’s cage.” He brushed his lips over mine. “And then I’m gonna let her out.”
As his mouth claimed mine, I wondered if he was implying what I thought he was. Would he really release me? He kissed me now like a man who craved ownership and I was his prized possession.
The kiss ended abruptly, and he pulled back. “I’m distracting you.”
I was so far past using the word distracting to describe Luka, his statement was almost funny. He returned to his post leaning against the counter and pulled his phone out. We didn’t speak again as I dried my hair with a hairdryer and then set about putting on makeup. He was right, after all. I hated not looking put together, and if Luka said I needed to make a good impression, I was going to do it. I’d become obsessive about succeeding.
I snuck glances through the mirror at him while I put on mascara. He was reading something, scrolling through the phone, and a serious look etched his face. He was a dark shadow of the man I thought I’d loved in secret.
Talk about ridiculous. I hadn’t spoken to him once the whole semester. I’d studied him relentlessly, and inferred what I could, but love? I was so hopelessly naïve. I didn’t know the real him. I’d only had surface data, like how he took his coffee and that he preferred a messenger bag over a standard backpack.
The memory stormed in and the words came before I could stop them. “I almost bought you a cup of coffee once.”
His attention lifted from the screen. “What?”
“You usually had a Starbucks cup in class. I thought about buying one and bringing it to class for you.” I despised not only how shaky my voice was, but that I was telling him the story at all.
He blinked, visibly intrigued. “How did you know what kind I drink?”
“It was always marked on the side of your cups.” I finished capping my mascara and dropped it into my makeup bag. “I was determined to be outgoing and talk to you. So one day I ordered your tall, dark roast, got to class early, and . .
. I couldn’t go through with it.”
He pushed off the counter and stood. His expression was focused. “I would have liked that. Sounds like you wasted an opportunity and a cup of coffee.”
“No, I drank it.”
His lips pulled up into the half smile. “Fuck,” he said, brushing his hand over my arm. “I would have eaten you for breakfast. And you would have enjoyed every goddamn minute of—”
There was a short knock at the bedroom door, followed by a male voice. “Sir, your father’s waiting in the dining room.”
The half smile faded. A black storm of disgust crawled over his expression and Luka turned cold. “Are you ready?”
Was I? His angry expression left me feeling unprepared.
Luka’s hand was tight on my wrist as he led me down the stairs, and my pulse roared beneath his fingertips. It wasn’t until I smelled the food that I realized I was famished. I’d only eaten the bagel this morning. Yet that was standard fare for me these days. I didn’t put on the freshman fifteen, mostly because I skipped meals. Studying for the MCAT last year on top of everything else had me down to eating once a day.
We turned the corner and I fought not to dig in my heels and skid to a stop. Luka had presence and gravity, but Mr. Markovic was a black hole.
He was seated at the head of the long dining table and looked to be in his early fifties. His patterned dress shirt appeared tailored and expensive. His face was rugged, his eyebrows thick and dark, and his hair had a few streaks of silver near the temples. If this was an indication of what Luka would look like in twenty years, he’d be handsome and distinguished when he was older.
But there was a dark, frenetic energy radiating from the elder Markovic man, and I could sense it clear across the dining room. A quiet rage boiled just below the surface of his skin.
My mouth went totally dry and my throat closed up as Mr. Markovic’s discerning gaze discovered me alongside his son. Luka had warned me not to speak, and it was not going to be a problem. I’d held out the tiniest shred of hope that Mr. Markovic could help me, but no. I suddenly had no desire to say a word. His eyes were as black as Luka’s, but far scarier.