by Maisey Yates
Such raw, honest words from her lover, an admission she knew cost him. One that burned through her, made her want to accept his gift and hold it close. And test it at the same time.
“If I take off my dress will I regain some of your focus?” His dark eyes met with hers, and she relished the intensity in them. All for her.
“It wouldn’t hurt.”
She reached out and pushed one strap down her shoulder, keeping her eyes fixed on his. “So, are you in the mood to talk?”
He undid a cuff on his dress shirt, his dark eyes locked on hers. “Why would I ever be in the mood to talk when I could bury myself in your beautiful body instead?”
His words sent a shock of sensation through her. Only a week ago, it would have embarrassed her, had her muscles tightening up. Now his words, the intent in his eyes, made her feel on fire. Alive. Made her want to push back. To take possession of him as he’d done to her. “Darling, the question is why would I ever be in the mood to talk when I could have you inside of me?”
Her words were bold, and for a second she was shocked by herself. But in a good way. She had always been confident in her own business, in the work she did for various charities. But when it came to her feelings, her desires, she always felt the need to push them down tight, shut the lid on them and lock them up. She had never felt free to express them, not after the mistake she made. Because she had been convinced that there was something fundamentally wrong with them, with her.
She’d been terrified of exposing her vulnerabilities to anyone, even to herself. Of risking rejection again. Telling a man that she wanted him to be inside of her was definitely putting her at risk of exposing her vulnerabilities. Of letting him know that he was her vulnerability.
But she didn’t care, and she didn’t feel weak. She felt empowered. She felt more comfortable in her own body, in her own skin than ever before.
Those old memories, those old rejections, were washed away by the desire in Dmitri’s eyes.
He stared her down, lifting his chin slightly. As though she were an opponent in the ring, and he saw the challenge being issued. Accepted it. Welcomed it.
She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted her, could tell by the gleam in his dark eyes, by the tension in every line of his body. More than that, she was confident in the fact that she wanted him, and that it was okay. In this moment, she had no doubts, not in him, not in herself.
She pushed the other strap of her dress down, taking a deep breath and allowing herself to be conscious of the way that her breasts rose above the neckline of the fabric, the red silk just concealing her nipples, exposing the rest. She’d worn red again, because she knew he liked it. And then she looked at him again, at his awareness. And it increased her own. The way he watched her, the intensity with which he kept his eyes trained on her, heightening her arousal, her confidence.
Such a strange thing, because only a few days ago she could never have done this. Could never have stood in front of the man and taken her dress off. She would have felt that she was too much in danger of losing control, and the simple fact was that she had lost control. But Dmitri was losing it with her, and that equality made it feel, if not safe, then at least as if she wasn’t alone.
As long as she could cling to him it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if she was in control, because she was holding on to him. He was a fighter; he was strong. And so was she.
She reached behind herself and gripped the tab of her zipper, drawing it down slowly, letting it fall down around her waist. Again, she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath, the lining of the dress providing all the structure she needed for her modest curves. She was rewarded by the sharp sound of a breath hissing through his teeth, by the pitch of his muscular chest as everything in him froze while he took in the sight of her.
In response, her heart began beating faster, the pulse at the base of her throat throbbing. An answering pulse beating at the apex of her thighs. She knew what this was now, knew what she wanted. And she knew that she could only get it from him. Because it was about more than sex, it was about the connection.
He had played off the trust that he felt toward her, but she did trust him. She trusted that he would do what he said, that he was a man of his word. She trusted that when she fell he would catch her. And outside of this relationship, this moment, this room, she didn’t know what would happen. But here and now, she knew she could trust him. With her body, if not her heart.
Though, she had given him her heart nonetheless.
The thought made her feel more naked than revealing skin ever could have.
She pushed the dress down her hips, taking her underwear with it, letting them fall to the floor. The pool of crimson at her feet, like blood, spilled just for him. Her soul, bleeding out, hemorrhaging. And only he could stop it. Just as she would only allow such a thing for him.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving her body. He reached up and loosened the knot on his tie, but touched nothing else. He rested his hands on either side of his thighs, his legs spread just a bit, giving her a view of his hardening arousal.
She walked toward him, black high heels still on her feet, the soles of the shoes clicking on the white marble floor. He’d bought the stilettos for her in New Orleans, and he’d proceeded to bend her over the couch the night they’d brought them back to the hotel.
They were the kind of shoes they’d spoken about before. The kind she knew he liked. And she would use them to her advantage.
She was completely naked except for those shoes, and she felt no shame. She felt no embarrassment. She wanted to show him. Wanted to take the spark she saw in his eyes and turn it into an inferno. Use her curves as the fuel for that fire. This confidence, this desire came from inside of her, but he was the one who had unlocked it. And so it was for him, in this moment, it was all for him.
She approached the bed, standing between his legs, placing her forefinger beneath his chin and tilting his face upward. “You did well.” She wanted him to understand that, wanted him to realize all of the things he had to offer. Wanted him to fully take on board the fact that he was doing good, that he was changing lives. Using his success to affect the destiny of others.
He lifted his hand, curling his fingers around the back of her thigh, drawing her closer to him, bringing the most intimate part of her so close to his mouth it made her ache. He leaned in, kissing her stomach, sending a quiver of need straight to her core.
He let his hand drift up slowly, squeezing her but gently, sliding his palm over the sensitive skin. “You are beautiful. You know that, don’t you, Victoria?”
She had never worried much about her looks. She dressed and applied makeup to give the best impression possible, and she had always been relatively happy with the results. But Dmitri made her feel beautiful. Not just pleased with her appearance, but he gave her the feeling that she radiated something only he could see. Something that he appreciated to the depth of his soul in a way no one else ever had.
“More importantly,” she said, “I know that I’m beautiful to you.”
It was a clumsy way to express what she felt, but it was all she had.
He kissed her stomach again, lowering his head slightly, tracing a line with the tip of his tongue from her belly button to just above the place that was wet and aching for him. He looked up at her, his eyes locked with hers. Some might consider him to be sitting in the submissive position at the moment, but Victoria knew that he was the one who owned this moment. Who held her in thrall. Desperate for what he might do next, unable to do anything but stand, shaking, ready, waiting.
“And am I beautiful to you, my sweet Victoria?” His question stopped her cold, made her heart stutter in her chest.
More evidence of him opening himself to her. Giving her control.
She reached down and cupped his cheek, keeping her
eyes on his. “My entire life has been surrounded by beauty. By fine things, lovely houses. Museums, parties. Man-made things that have been polished until they shone. Until they have had every spot and blemish removed from them. But you, Dmitri, are a wild thing. A beast who seems to have pulled me into his lair. You are not perfect. You are scarred.” She traced the crooked line of his nose, down to the fine scar that bisected his upper lip. “Marked permanently by the places you’ve been, by the pain you have suffered.” She moved her fingertips down to his muscular forearm, traced the dark marks of ink that stained his skin. “And yet I find you are perfectly beautiful to me. You make me see for the first time the beauty in imperfection.” The beauty in my own imperfection. She left the last part unspoken. Held it close to her chest, close to her heart.
She didn’t need him to be perfect, and suddenly it occurred to her that maybe she didn’t need to be perfect, either. That maybe she shouldn’t need to be perfect to be loved. After all, she loved Dmitri and he was the furthest thing from perfect she could imagine. But he was perfect for her. Necessary in a way she never would have thought possible.
He had changed her, in every way that mattered. Changed the way she felt and thought about herself and the world.
He said nothing. Instead, he pulled her forward so that one knee was resting on the bed, bringing the heart of her into line with his mouth. He leaned forward, sliding his tongue along her damp flesh, skimming the bundle of nerves that was aching for his touch. Sending a white-hot bolt of pleasure through her, leaving her shaken, leaving her burned.
He growled, holding on to her with both hands, bringing her hard up against his mouth, his exploration of her ruthless, demanding. She gasped, holding herself steady by clinging to his shoulders, knowing that if she let go she would find herself melted into a puddle on the floor, or perhaps drifting away from the earth entirely. She wasn’t certain which. But then, she wasn’t certain where the floor was, or where the ceiling was. She wasn’t certain if they were even in the hotel room anymore at all.
Because there was nothing but this, nothing but Dmitri, nothing but his touch. His perfect, altering touch.
He adjusted his hold on her, placing one hand between her thighs, teasing her slick entrance with his fingertip as he continued to tease her with his tongue.
Pleasure twisted in her stomach, nice, sharp and unyielding, pressing deeper and deeper until she was certain she couldn’t take it anymore. Until she was certain she couldn’t withstand it. A harsh sound escaped her lips, and he pressed his finger deep inside of her, timing the thrusts with the strokes of his tongue. Pleasure broke over her like warm oil coating her skin, waves of deep pleasure echoing through her.
On shaking legs she stood, moving away from the bed and walking to the nightstand that was beside it. They had both ensured that condoms were in the drawer upon arrival. Because condoms held top spot on Victoria’s brand-new priorities list. She procured a plastic packet as quickly as possible and tore it open, setting it on the mattress so that she could make quick use of it later. Among the new skills she had acquired since meeting Dmitri, speedy contraceptive application was one of them.
“Stand up. And take off your clothes,” she said, her tone crisp.
A wicked smile curved Dmitri’s lips. “Anything to please you,” he said, his voice a rough purr that reverberated through her body.
“Do I have control?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Will you give this to me?”
“You might have to take it,” he said, his tone like iron, a core of challenge moving through his words.
“Surrender doesn’t mean as much when it’s taken,” she said, unsure of where the words had come from.
“You think not?” he asked.
But he stood and began slowly and methodically removing the pieces of his suit. Sliding his tie through the shirt collar, letting his black jacket drop to the floor. He unbuckled his belt, let it hang open as he set about undoing the buttons on his shirt.
Yet again the power balance shifted. She might be the one giving commands, but everything inside of her went weak watching Dmitri expose his body to her. She was a captive audience as he removed his shirt, as the muscles and lines in his body shifted and bunched. And then he pushed his pants down, exposing his muscular thighs. Not to mention the most male part of him. Thick, proud, a statement of just how much he wanted her.
“Lie down on the bed.” Her voice was trembling now, and she thought to keep the authority in her tone.
“Aren’t you going to say please, Victoria?” he asked, the darkness in his eyes lit by a black flame.
She steeled herself, lifted her chin, her eyes never leaving his. “No. I won’t say please, Dmitri. Now lie back on the bed, or I’ll walk out of the room and leave you there like that, hard and aching for me. Is that what you want?”
“So I don’t have a choice?” he asked, his voice set with stone.
She swallowed hard. “You have a choice,” she said, knowing this was the most important thing for him to hear. “With me, you always have a choice.”
“But you will leave if I do not comply.”
She nodded slowly. “Not all choices are good.” Something was happening, something big, a war raging in the empty spaces between them. A fight, not for bodies, but for souls. “Say it.”
He wrapped his hand around his erection, squeezed tight. “I don’t want you to leave me like this, Victoria. I need you.” He moved his palm over his length. “I could do this myself, but it wouldn’t be the same. It has to be you.”
He was giving this to her. And it made her want to push. Want to take even more than he was offering.
Her heart was hammering hard, need making her shake. “Good.”
He sat back down on the edge of the mattress, then slid backward, positioning himself at the center of the bed, lying on his back. “Now what?”
He was turning over all of the control, and the action made her heart feel as if it was being squeezed. “Put your hands above your head.”
His eyes still locked with hers, he obeyed her command. The action stretched his ab muscles, allowed her to see the definition in his torso to an even greater degree. Suddenly, an image burned itself into her brain, one she hadn’t expected, a fantasy she’d never had before. But she wanted it now. Wanted to see how far she could push this. How far she could push his trust in her.
I trust you as much as I trust anyone.
He’d said it, but unless she tested it...how would she know?
She had to know.
She bent down and picked up the black silk tie from the floor. She ran her fingers over the cool fabric, stretching it tight between her hands. “The first day that I saw you, you were fighting. You’re so strong, Dmitri. The strongest man I have ever known. But I want to make you mine.” She walked closer to the bed, lifted her leg and pressed her knee into the mattress. “Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
And it was everything she had ever needed, a balm for her soul she hadn’t realized would heal the cracks and scars that had been placed there by that long-ago indiscretion. By the reaction her family had had to it.
Dmitri trusted her. After years of not even trusting herself, it felt like a miracle.
“Give me this,” she said.
“Here? In this way?” he asked, his words splintered. “I will give you anything you desire.”
He stayed in the exact position she had commanded him to assume, watching her. She had the feeling he was like a predator, hiding his strength, hiding his intent, in the stillness of his muscles. But that at any moment he could spring forward and capture her. That was what gave the moment so much power. He could physically overpower her; there was no question about that. The only control that she had was given to her by him. It was a gift, and she was determined to use it wisely. To use it well.
How far she had come. How far they had come.
She laid the tie flat across his skin, watching for his reaction. Heat flared deep in his eyes, but his face remained immovable. His lips were pressed into a firm line; he clenched his jaw tight. Arousal, she recognized it. He wanted this. She could see it clearly.
She curved the two ends of the tie around behind his hands, before crossing them and bringing them around to the front, knotting them tight. Then she placed her hands over his, pressing them deep into the pillows, as she leaned down and kissed his lips.
This, she recognized as the ultimate surrender. Not his, but hers. Surrendering to the deep desire that clawed at her insides, to a need that transcended social acceptability, that transcended what was right, what she should want, what she should do. This was a surrender to the desire that Dmitri made her feel.
And he was accepting it, reveling in it, not making her feel as if there was anything wrong with her, but on the contrary, making her feel as if her desires were a beautiful thing. Something he wanted, something he craved.
She reached for the condom that she had left sitting on the edge of the mattress and pulled the thin sheath from the packet, wrapping her hand around his arousal and sliding it on quickly. His body arched upward, his expression pained now. She straddled him, her heat lining up with his erection.