by Zoe Blake
Turning to face me, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Start talking,” he growled.
“Fuck you!” I fired back.
Damien stalked toward me till I was pressed against the wall. Towering over me, he used both hands to cup my jaw, tilting my head back. “Start talking,” he repeated with more emphasis. “Or I take off my belt.”
My jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t dare! I’ll scream for Dimitri and Vaska!”
“Go ahead. Cry out for help. I dare you,” he challenged. His dark eyes glittered with rage.
Breaking free, I fell several steps back till I was within arm’s reach of the canvas equipment cart.
Placing it between him and me, I shouted, “I don’t want to marry you!”
Not like this, my heart screamed.
The truth was I did want to marry him. I just wanted to know he was marrying me for me and not for some sense of obligation to protect me, or male pride.
“I got some bad news for you, my malen'kiy padshiy angel. You will marry me if I have to toss you over my shoulder and drag you in front of that judge.”
Reaching into the cart for one of the padded pugil sticks, I grabbed the red one.
Arching an eyebrow, he asked, “You really want to do this?”
I adjusted my grip on the pugil stick and held it defensively in front of me.
Damien whipped his belt off and tossed it aside. He then ripped off his black t-shirt. Oh God. He really was magnificent. All toned muscle and brightly colored tattoos. They ran up his arms and shoulders before creeping up his neck. Twisting and writhing images of mythical beasts, strange symbols, and even flowers. His black cargo pants hung low on his hips, emphasizing his flat, muscled abdomen. I could see the press of his already hard cock against his inner thigh.
Swallowing, I ignored the sick twist of my stomach.
Raising my chin, I challenged, “Bring it on.”
Chapter 36
Damien
I circled around Yelena to reach into the bin to retrieve the blue pugil.
Testing the weight of the thick pole with heavy padding on both ends, I kicked off my shoes before walking back to the center of the padded mats.
Without warning, I stepped forward and swung my right arm out, using the pugil stick to sweep her feet.
Yelena flew backwards and landed on her ass.
Before she could recover, I grabbed her left ankle and spread her legs, watching as her dress slid up to her hips, exposing her thighs. I could see my naughty girl didn’t have any panties on. My cock lengthened.
Before I could step between her legs, Yelena pulled her leg back and lithely arched her back to force her body upright. She swung out with her own pugil stick and barely missed boxing my left ear. She gave me a knowing smirk before backing up and shifting her weight on bent knees.
Evaluating my target, I feigned right then swung left, tapping her hip with the padded end and sending her off balance. Before she could right herself, I swung my foot out and once more swept her legs. Again, she went down on that cute little ass of hers. I grabbed her right leg and flipped her onto her stomach. I fell to my knees, ready to straddle her. Visions of hiking her dress up and entering her from behind as I pulled on her ponytail momentarily distracted me.
Yelena used that moment to shimmy out of my reach and use her pugil stick to regain her feet.
“You see where I’m going with this?” I taunted.
“In your dreams!” she fired back. The brat.
“Oh babygirl. I’m about to make my dreams your painful reality.”
I charged.
She parried.
We tapped the center of the poles, angling them left and right before disengaging.
Again, I charged.
She blocked my offense, but I could see she was tiring. The pugil sticks were heavy, and she lacked the arm strength to outlast me.
In a surprise move, Yelena twisted to the left and brought the center of the pole down on my exposed knuckles. The sharp pain forced me to drop one end. She took advantage and thrust the padded end into my side. Before she could retreat to a safe distance, I raised my pugil stick and twisted it with her own, forcing it from her hands and across the room.
I immediately lowered my stick to the floor so the moment she dove for her own she tripped, landing on her stomach. As she tried to crawl towards her weapon, I pulled at the hem of her dress. She twisted onto her back and tried to kick out, but it was too late. The flimsy fabric easily tore straight up to her stomach.
With an outraged cry she fumed, “This wasn’t mine! It was Emma’s.”
I smiled. “I’ll buy you both another one.”
She flipped back onto her stomach and reached for her pugil stick. I noticed her bottom was red from all the falls she had taken. While I wished that glorious blush was caused by the leather of my belt or my own hand, it still was satisfying to think I would be adding to it soon.
Yelena sprung onto her feet. As she bent her knees and adjusted her weight, I could see the play of muscle on her slim thighs and just a peek of the heaven that laid between them.
“Admit I own your ass, and I’ll consider letting you off easy,” I taunted her, knowing and loving the fact she would say no.
“Go to hell!” she bristled.
That’s my girl.
With her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, it was obvious she was enjoying this battle of wills as much as I was, but it was time to put an end to it.
Swinging the pugil stick to the left and right, I stepped forward and shoved it between her open thighs. Since she weighed next to nothing, I easily lifted her high.
Yelena cried out in shock as she dropped her stick and reached out to steady herself on my shoulders when her body pitched forward.
“I win,” I breathed against her mouth. Lowering my voice, I ordered, “Beg me to fuck you.”
“No,” she rasped defiantly. Her chest rose and fell with her labored breathing.
Suddenly, it was vitally important to my very being that she acknowledge my authority over her.
Call it misplaced arrogance.
Call it possessiveness.
Call it obsessive control.
I didn’t give a damn.
Dropping the pugil stick, I wrapped my arm around her back, securing her to my front. Walking a few steps, I moved to the far corner of the room to the padded pommel horse.
My hands easily spanned her small waist as I lifted her high and forced her to straddle the rounded raised stump. With its leather surface close to a foot and a half wide, it stretched her legs open nicely. And with its close to four feet high legs, it was the perfect height for what I had planned.
“Damien, what are you—”
Ignoring her question, I grabbed her hips and pulled her back till her ass was just hanging off the edge of the horse. I pushed the hanging shreds of her dress out of the way.
Yelena reached out and grasped the metal handlebar to keep herself upright. “Get me off this thing!”
“To quote one of your favorite words, no.”
Reaching my arm back, I spanked her right cheek. My full open palm made contact with her skin with a satisfying smack.
Yelena howled in outrage as she tried to climb off the pommel horse.
I fisted the loose torn fabric of her dress to hold her in place. Shifting to the side, I used my other arm to vigorously continue her punishment. Raising my arm over and over again, I reveled in the red handprints that began to appear on her pale skin. She squirmed and screamed, but I refused to relent. I loved the feel of her soft, heated skin beneath my palm.
“Beg me to fuck you,” I shouted over her screams.
She refused to answer. Pressing with the hand that held her down by her dress, I forced her hips open even wider as they slipped over the edge of the leather horse. The position also spread her ass cheeks and left the delicate folds of her cunt vulnerable.
Directing my aim, I landed the next blow over her pussy.
“Stop! It hurts! Stop!�
�� she cried.
“You know how to make it stop.”
I spanked her pussy harder, wanting the lips to swell and pulse so when I finally entered her, she would feel every thick inch.
“Stop!
“Beg me to fuck you.”
Yelena let out a howl instead of answering.
This time, I directed my aim to her even more vulnerable asshole. Using my two middle fingers, I gave the puckered entrance a series of harsh taps, watching as the soft pink turned a bright red. Her ass cheeks trembled as she desperately tried to clench them closed but her open, straddle position over the horse prevented her.
“Ow! Oh God! That hurts! Please stop!”
“I’m only going to ask you one more time before I get my belt. Beg me to fuck you.”
“Oh God! Fuck me. Fuck me hard,” she called out as she bent forward, pushing her ass into my palm.
Releasing her dress, I positioned myself behind her and unzipped my pants. I finally released my painfully erect cock. Fisting my shaft, I gave it a few pumps to relieve the building tension. With my other hand on the small of her back, I edged my hips closer. The height of the pommel horse was perfect. The brown leather covering between her legs showed a large dark wet stain from her reluctant arousal. Sliding my four fingers over her swollen and sore pussy, I coated my hand before running it down and up the length of my cock. Inching closer, I pushed the head of my cock against her asshole.
Yelena bucked. “No! Not there!”
“I don’t know a better way to prove to you that your ass is literally mine,” I bit back.
I shifted my hips forward, watching as the head forced its way past her clenching anus. The skin around her hole whitened and smoothed as it was forced to accept the thick intrusion.
Yelena cried out.
Undeterred, I thrust forward.
I took a sick pleasure in seeing the heavy shaft of my cock disappear into her ass. Knowing that her arousal was barely enough to slick the way. Knowing it would cause her pain that was only barely tinged by pleasure. This wasn’t for her. It was for me. I needed this. I needed this ultimate possession to cool the primal rage which still coursed through my veins. Moving back, I thrust forward, pistoning in and out of her body.
Yelena groaned. Her white knuckles clutched at the metal handlebar.
I grabbed hold of her ass cheeks. The red punished skin felt hot on my palms.
Yelena hissed in pain.
Still I thrust.
Her body clenched around my shaft like a vise. I could feel every tremble, every ripple of muscle.
“Where’s my cock?”
Yelena moaned.
I gave her left cheek a quick swat and gritted my teeth at the rush of sensation up my shaft as her body responded by clenching even harder.
“Where’s my cock?”
“In my ass,” she whimpered.
“Louder,” I barked.
“In my ass,” she sobbed. “Please come! Please, I can’t take much more.”
Taking pity on my babygirl, I reached between her legs and pushed two fingers into her cunt. I could feel the movement of my cock through the thin layer of skin that separated them. I stroked my fingers in and out in a slow rhythm. Yelena’s hips raised as a low groan escaped her lips.
“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Come while my cock is deep in your ass.”
Yelena whimpered again as I pushed a third finger in. I knew between my cock in her ass and my fingers in her pussy, she was feeling stretched to the point of breaking. I began to thrust more violently. Her body shifted back and forth on the pommel horse as she absorbed the force.
“Oh God! Oh God!”
Her cunt spasmed around my fingers. I thrust into her several more times before releasing a thick stream of seed deep into her ass.
Yelena collapsed fully onto the horse, her arms hanging lax on the sides.
I pulled my slackening cock free, liking the sight of my seed as it dripped from her now-gaping hole. Circling around to the side of the pommel horse, I used the edge of my knuckle to raise up her chin.
“Who’s my dirty babygirl?”
Yelena’s lips quirked. “I really fucking hate you.”
“I know, baby.”
Chapter 37
Damien
Washington, D.C.
“You’re an idiot.”
“I know.”
Gregor shook his head. “What were you thinking?”
I raised my glass and stared down at the amber contents for a moment before taking a sip. “Probably the same thing you were thinking before you dragged old-as-dirt Judge Matthews onto a plane to marry you and Samara.”
“Fair enough.”
Gregor stood and crossed to the sideboard where a tray of crystal decanters was displayed. He picked up the one which held my preferred drink of Macallan Rare scotch. Lifting it up, he turned and raised an eyebrow.
I nodded.
He crossed back to me and topped off my drink before pouring himself another. Setting the decanter on a side table between the two of us, he sat back down across from me in the large, oxblood leather armchairs before the fire in his living room. Yelena and I had arrived a few hours earlier. The girls were upstairs in Gregor’s bedroom filling each other in on the past three years.
Gregor held his glass up to the light of the fire. “This stuff isn’t half bad.”
My mouth quirked in a halfhearted smile. I stared past him at the red star on his yolka tree.
It was easy to imagine Yelena crouching beneath its spruce branches rifling through gold and green wrapped presents to hand one to each of our children. Her beautiful hair would be pulled back into a loose ponytail. Around her neck would be the Cartier diamond necklace I had given her the night before on Christmas Eve when the children were tucked into their beds, and we were sharing a quiet drink before the fire. It all seemed so real to me. So normal. I wanted that for my future. I wanted that life. I wanted her.
I realized now in my haste to secure her to my side, I had seriously fucked up. I had made her feel as if she and her future weren’t worth any effort on my part.
“Were you really still covered in blood and mud from killing that bastard Santiago?”
I rubbed my eyes with my hand and groaned. “Yes.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it?”
“Hell if I know. Any advice big brother?”
“Jewelry. Lots of expensive jewelry.”
“I hope you’re not implying you purchased my affections so easily?”
Both of us stood as Samara entered the room.
The change in Gregor’s demeanor was startling. The energy in the room shifted. He wrapped his arm around her waist and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. “Trust me, malýshka, there was absolutely nothing easy about finally making you mine.”
She gave him a playful slap against his chest. Then wrapped her hand around his neck and leaned up to give him another kiss. Then she whispered against his mouth, “Yes, but I was worth it.”
Gregor stroked her hair. “Yes, my love. You were definitely worth it.”
The true depth of my mistake became more apparent to me. I had made Yelena feel as if she and our future weren’t worth any effort on my part. No proper proposal. No ring. A half-assed shotgun wedding where I hadn’t even bothered to wash the blood off my hands.
Samara cast a glance at me. “Did you tell him he’s an idiot?”
Like the dutiful husband he had quickly become, Gregor nodded. “Yes, wife. Several times.”
“Tell him again.” She then turned to me. “It’s pretty obvious to Nadia and me the way Yelena is colorfully cursing your name up there that she obviously loves you.”
I started to rise. “Maybe I should go talk to her.”
Samara shook her head. “I wouldn’t recommend it just yet. She’s still pacing back and forth and ranting. She won’t stop flipping her pink stiletto knife open and closed every time she says your name.”
Dammit.
I knew I shouldn’t have given that knife back to her.
Samara crossed over to the same sideboard and grabbed a bottle of red wine from the cabinet below. She then slipped the stems of three crystal glasses between her fingers. “I just came down to grab some wine.”
Gregor cleared his throat. “Not for all of you?”
Samara leaned up on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m having cranberry juice.”
He gave her smack on the ass as she turned to walk away. “Good girl.”
I raised my glass as a toast to them both. “That was fast.”
Gregor returned to his chair. “It’s still way too soon. We have a doctor’s appointment next week. We’re not telling anyone officially just yet.”
I looked at him thoughtfully. “You’re going to make a great father.”
He swirled the contents of his glass, letting the ice cubes rattle against the crystal. “Well, our father set the bar pretty low.”
“There’s no reason why his or our sins should rest on your son’s shoulders. We can change the future. We both have more money than God. There’s no reason to continue down this path if we don’t want to.”
“Perhaps. And don’t let Samara hear you say it’s going to be a boy. She’s wishing for a girl. Probably just to torture me.”
I laughed. “The great Gregor Ivanov tamed by a woman and a little baby girl.”
I could just imagine what a fiercely protective father he would be to his daughter. I pitied any man who came near her… let alone tried to date her.
“Don’t laugh too hard. From where I’m sitting, you’re in lockstep right behind me, little brother.”
I raised my glass again. “To the women in our lives. May they happily torture us till our dying day.”
We both drank.
Gregor rested his glass on his knee. “Speaking of the women in our lives, have you talked with Nadia yet?”
My brow furrowed. “Not yet. There hasn’t been any time. Besides, when I walked through the door with Yelena, I was the last person she wanted to talk to. Those two hugged and screamed and immediately ran upstairs like two teenagers to find Samara.”
“She’s pissed at me. I’ve put her on lockdown. Won’t let her go to that jewelry store of hers.”