His Queen of Clubs

by Rose, Renee

  Control issues.

  Yeah, I have them.

  Sue me.

  Being in control of Alessia intoxicates me. I tried to do things the right way. Give her space. Let her adapt.

  Now she needs a strong hand.

  I seem to recall she enjoys it, so I don’t have to feel bad.

  I carry her into my room and drop her on her feet. The kittens tumble out of their basket mewling, but we both ignore them. Holding her gaze, I unbuckle my belt and pull it from the loops.

  Her eyes widen and she stumbles back, breath short.

  “Clothes off.” My command is short and harsh.

  She must be genuinely afraid, because I watch the defiance drain away. She yanks her t-shirt over her head and throws it on the floor. Kicks off the sneakers next. Then the jeans come down.

  “All of it,” I order when she stops.

  Lips tight, she unsnaps her bra and lets it fall to the floor. I don’t wait for the panties. I decide I want to strip her of those myself. I reach for her and she flinches, but I catch her wrist and drag her body up to mine.

  “Hands together,” I murmur, like this is love not war.

  Perhaps it is.

  Her bare breasts graze my ribs. She’s panting, eyes dilated wide.

  Not narrowed. Fear causes the pupils to narrow. Excitement causes them to dilate.

  My cock, already swollen in my jeans, gets chubbier. I pull her wrists up, my touch gentle now. Without looking away from her lovely, startled doe eyes, I toss one end of my belt over the rafter on the ceiling and pull the end of the strap through the buckle so it’s caught tight.

  I lift her unbound wrists to the end of the belt. “You hold this strap. You let go, I take the strap down and use it on your ass. Understand?”

  “Vlad.” There’s a pleading quality to her voice that I rather love.

  I put a knuckle under her chin. “Do you understand?”

  “Fine. Yes. I understand.” She reaches up to grip the end of the belt. It lifts and separates her breasts in the most alluring way.

  I hook my thumbs in her panties and take my time slowly pulling them down as I drop to a crouch in front of her. She steps out of them and I slap her legs open. “Spread them, printsessa.”

  She widens them a foot apart. I slap higher, catching her inner thigh. “Wider.”

  Her belly shudders as she opens them further.

  I rub two fingers between her legs, gratified to find her wet. “You’re excited about your punishment.”

  She makes a dissenting noise, but doesn’t actually speak.

  I slap lightly over her clit and she mewls softly, skittering her legs back together.

  “Open them.” I put enough sharp dissatisfaction in my tone that she responds instinctively, immediately opening her legs.

  I come to stand, dragging my fingertips up her inner thigh as I do, then palming her ass in a rough squeeze. I stroll around behind her and grip her hips. “Push that ass out. Arch your back. If you hold your position like a good girl, I will only use my hand.”

  This time the mewl is unmistakable.

  And adorable.

  I smack one side of her ass, hard.

  She shivers.

  I smack the other side.

  “There is no running away, Alessia,” I tell her, holding her hip with one hand and applying my hand with more purpose.

  She gasps and flinches under the spanks, but holds still. I redden the lower half of her ass, enjoying the spring of her cheeks under my palm. The sound of my slaps in the quiet room. The satisfying sting on my own skin.

  “You are my wife. You will stay with me until I grow tired of you.”

  She makes that dissenting sound in her throat again.

  I stop spanking and reach around to cup her mons, using my grip to pull her ass back against my lap. With the other hand I cage her throat. “I took you as tribute for the lives taken from me,” I remind her. “I did not take your brother’s life. I will not take your life. You’ll give me this time as my due.”

  She goes still, although her pulse is frantic beneath my thumb. Her pussy’s soaking wet, too. She works to swallow. I stroke along her sopping slit. I move my hand from her throat down to her breast, which I squeeze roughly.

  “So be a good girl. Take your spanking.” I slap her pussy. Fist my hand in her hair and tug her head back over my shoulder. Another pussy spank.

  She moans.

  “I know you like to have your pussy spanked.” Another slap.

  I step back and start another round on her ass, slapping the pink into her cheeks until she’s dancing on her toes.

  Then I reward her with more stroking. “You’re doing a very good job staying in place, printsessa,” I murmur, my lips at her ear. “A very good job.” My middle and index finger glide up and down her swollen flesh, stopping to circle her clit. “When you’re ready for me to give you satisfaction, just ask.”

  She turns her face away. There’s a blush on her cheeks, down her neck.

  “I won’t make you beg. I won’t even make you apologize. I will put my mouth between your legs and lick you until you scream. And then I’ll show you what I can do with my cock. All you have to do is say da.” The whole time I make that promise, I circle her clit with the pad of my middle finger.

  When she doesn’t answer immediately, I remove my touch.

  “Da,” she answers quickly.

  I’m not a religious man, but I’m willing to praise Jesus, Mohammad and every other known figurehead. I need to be inside this woman with a clawing desperation.

  I reach up and wrap a hand around her wrists. “You can let go,” I murmur in her ear.

  Her hands slide down the belt as she releases her tight grip. I catch her up in my arms and drop her onto the bed.

  “Spread your legs,” I say thickly. I can’t wait to feast between them. I slide my hands under her heated ass cheeks and squeeze as I lick into her.

  She’s on fire—so sensitive she nearly pops off the bed every time my tongue makes contact. I have to hold her pelvis down, pin her in place to give her the pleasure she deserves. I swirl my tongue up and around her clit, flick it with the tip. Penetrate her with a finger.

  I have her orgasming in less than sixty seconds. I go in for a second round.

  Only then do I trust myself to unbutton my jeans and free my erection. Her gaze stays on my cock, and she watches, cheeks flushed as I slide my fist along my throbbing length.

  I climb onto my knees and tower over her, jacking my dick.

  “Do you have a condom?” Her voice almost sounds shy.

  Right. Condom. She can’t get pregnant for some reason.

  “Da.” I back off the bed, stripping my shirt over my head as I walk. I get a condom from the dresser, then shuck my jeans and boxer briefs.

  And then I can’t hold back anymore. It’s been too many nights of torture. My cock aches so badly. I need to be in her with a vengeance I can’t deny. I’m more animal than man when I get back on the bed. I grasp her hips and flip her to her belly, then pull her hips up until she comes to her knees. When she tries to come onto her hands, too. I force her chest back down.

  “I want this ass up,” I tell her, bringing my thumb between her crack.

  She lets out a protesting squeal, but it sounds more wanton than anything.

  I slap her ass. “If you ever leave the house without insulin again, I will fuck this ass raw.”

  It’s a vulgar threat but my brain stopped functioning the minute she said yes. The only thoughts running through my head now are Fuck her now. Fuck her hard. Fuck...her.

  Yeah, I’m dying for her.

  I rub the head of my cock over her entrance and push.

  Blyat, she’s tight. I barely get the head in even though she’s wetter than an ocean.

  I push harder and she mewls, panting.

  I haven’t felt a girl this tight since—

  Oh shit.

  I grab her long, shiny hair and pull it back over h
er shoulder to see her face. “Alessia.” My voice is pure gravel. “You’re not a virgin?” I can’t stop the alarm from ringing out through my thick accent.

  “No,” she breathes and I relax. But then she says, “I’ve had sex before.”

  I stop again. “How many times?”

  “Two.”

  I want to laugh.

  And cry.

  I stroke my hand up the hollowed arch of her back, reach around and toy with her nipples. Inch in a little more. Sweat gathers at my hairline from the pressure of holding back.

  “Okay, baby?” I ask.

  “Yes. It’s good, Vlad. Keep going.”

  I grip her hips and thrust in deep all at once.

  She doesn’t scream. Her moan sounds happy.

  Thank fuck.

  Fingers digging into her flesh, I let my passion loose, pumping into her. I’m already dizzy, my balls so tight, cock so hard. I bump her ass with my loins hard. Harder. I like the slapping sound it makes, like another spanking.

  She must like it, too, because she moans and gasps into the bedcover, fingers clawing at the fabric.

  I hold her nape, bunch my hand into her hair. I massage the back of her scalp the way she likes it, all the while fucking her so hard the bed rocks.

  “Oh God,” she moans. “It’s so good.”

  Satisfied I’m not hurting her, I let loose even more, pulling her ass back to meet each of my brutal thrusts. Her cunt is tighter than a glove around my rigid cock, and I’ve never felt such glorious satisfaction before.

  “Alessia,” I find myself panting. It’s like an invocation. I’m having more than a spiritual experience. My world is fucking cracking open. “Alessia.”

  “Vlad, please. Yes. Oh God.”

  I’m way too rough, but I can’t help myself. I pound into her until she screams my name. Until I forget who I am.

  What I am.

  Until lights explode behind my eyes and I come like a fucking freight train.

  Chapter 13

  Alessia

  I totally begged.

  I’m not even embarrassed because it was so good it was worth it. I actually had no idea sex could be so incredible. I’m going to become an addict. I won’t be able to leave Russia because my body will want to stay enslaved to Vlad.

  I’m so screwed. Ha. Literally.

  Especially when he suddenly becomes infinitely gentle.

  His cock still throbs between my legs. We both came. We both saw. I think Vlad conquered, but I was happy to become his conquest. But now he eases me to my belly, following me and covering my body with his own. He strokes my hair back from my face and lays kisses along my jaw, my shoulder. My back. All the while, he keeps rocking that big Russian cock of his between my legs. Lazy-like. He’s the ocean and I’m the boat. And he’s definitely a ride I don’t want to get off.

  I moan softly.

  “Are you okay, Alessia? Did I hurt you?” he murmurs, lips still trailing across my skin. “I’m sorry I was so rough.”

  Cristo, this man is going to slay me right here. The tenderness after the heights he just brought me to is too much.

  “Mmm,” is all I can give for an answer.

  “Roll over.” He pulls out and tugs on my shoulder and rolls me to my back. “I want to look at you.”

  He studies my face. I don’t mind looking at him, either. The crude tattoos. The muscles. The stark masculinity. That ice blue gaze. Especially the way he’s looking at me now. Like I’m the most beautiful woman on the planet.

  His cock nudges my entrance again, and I sigh when he spears me. He’s only half-hard now, but it still feels so good. As he rocks, he lowers his face slowly to mine. Hesitates, hovering just above me.

  And then his mouth descends. He claims my lips and shoves in sharply.

  I moan against his lips. Move mine in concert with his. It’s bizarre that our first kiss comes last. After everything else—spanking. Oral. Fucking. Everything but anal, really.

  Well, everything I know about, which probably isn’t that much, as he just showed me.

  The kiss goes on. His lips devour. Teeth scrape over my flesh, tongue dips in and twines with mine.

  His cock hardens again inside me.

  And then, abruptly, he ends it. Comes up for air and stares down at me. Strokes my cheek with his thumb.

  I lean into his touch.

  “Don’t move,” he murmurs after a long moment.

  He regretfully pulls out and walks to the bathroom. He returns without the condom, carrying a wet washcloth and my med kit. He climbs up over me and cleans between my legs as he drops kisses over my breasts, across my throat. Between my breasts.

  Then he checks my blood sugar. Gives me a shot of insulin and kisses the place he injected.

  Hungry, I roll off the bed and reach for his t-shirt to pull over my head.

  “Uh uh,” he barks from the bed. “No clothing for you. You lost privileges.”

  I can’t take him too seriously. I may have been afraid when he brought me in, but after the tenderness he showed me, I know where I stand.

  “Oh yeah?” I purr. I go back to the bed and straddle his waist.

  He grips my ass and hikes my hips up to grind over his cock. When I rub my bare breasts against his face, he groans. “You have me right where you want me, don’t you?”

  “Do I?” I ask innocently.

  He catches my jaw and brings my face down for another hard kiss. “I’d probably give you anything you asked for right now.”

  “Set me free.”

  He leans his forehead against mine. “Not that.”

  “Let me call my brothers.”

  He groans and rolls his eyes, but appears to be thinking.

  He’s totally going to let me.

  “Nyet.”

  What? Seriously? “Why not?” I demand.

  “Because it will make you sad. I want to make you happy right now.”

  Damn. It’s hard to argue with that logic, since I cried last time I saw them on the screen.

  This guy is pretty sweet for a kidnapper.

  “I do have one small surprise for you,” he offers, palming my breasts and teasing the nipple with his thumb.

  I brighten. “You do?”

  “Da.”

  I wait, but he continues toying with my nipple. Finally he sighs and lifts me off his lap and onto my feet. “I don’t want to leave you.” He climbs off the bed to stand.

  “So take me with you,” I offer brightly.

  He closes his eyes and shakes his head like it pains him. “You’re on restriction, zaika.” He cradles the back of my neck and pulls me into him, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. “I’ll be right back. I promise.” He releases me and pulls his clothing on, then leaves me in the room.

  I don’t hear the key turn in the lock.

  I go and check it.

  He left it open. Does he trust me to obey him now?

  Or he just wasn’t willing to lock the door after what we just shared?

  Either way, it feels good to me. I’m not going to test it by leaving.

  I climb on the bed and lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Vlad’s belt still swings from the rafter, which makes me smile. My body buzzes from the orgasms, limbs relaxed and rubbery, skin sensitive.

  This is my life now. Vlad’s wife, until he grows tired of me.

  Is it weird that I don’t think it’s so bad? That part of me is happy to have the choice removed, to be stuck with this dangerous, beautiful man five thousand miles from home.

  Vlad returns shortly, carrying a bowl of yogurt with fruit in it and my tablet, which I had left in the living room.

  “That’s your surprise?”

  “No. It’s coming. This is to tide you over until dinner. I know you’re hungry.”

  I take the bowl gratefully. I am hungry, actually. Starving. “How do you know?” I peer up at him as I take a spoonful.

  He shrugs. “I know you.”

  I know you.

&nbs
p; Simple words. A simple sentiment. Yet it strikes me at that moment how true his words are. He does know me. Not even my own mother knows my rhythms and needs as well as this man.

  I shovel another bite into my mouth. “So dinner’s coming?”

  “Da.”

  “And the surprise.”

  “Da.”

  “Is dinner the surprise?” I guess.

  His lips twitch. “Maybe.” He opens my tablet and swipes across the screen. As usual, his fingers work quickly. A few moments later, music fills the room. It’s Daft Punk—one of the songs I requested. I’d made the longest list I could come up with, with many obscure songs and bands, just to annoy him.

  “My playlist?” I guess. “Is this the surprise? When did you have time to download it?”

  He watches me, affectionate amusement making the normally harsh planes of his face appear soft and youthful. “I had it on my computer. I just transferred it over.”

  “Thank you.” I take the tablet and sit cross-legged on the bed to scroll through. Vlad found every single song I requested. And loaded them in the exact order I wrote them down.

  Satisfaction flows through me. And something else. Something dangerous...happiness.

  Thirty minutes after Vlad came back, a knock sounds at the door. “That’s our dinner,” he says. “Go wait in the bathroom.”

  “You could just let me wear clothes,” I protest, hopping off the bed.

  “Nyet. No clothes for you.” He slaps my ass and I scurry forward, out of his way.

  I wait in the bathroom until he calls me back and then I burst into laughter when I see what’s on the tray.

  French fries.

  Home made, not the frozen kind. Fresh out of a fryer.

  “Is this my surprise?”

  Vlad nods. “You said you like french fries. I ordered a fryer and Zoya made them fresh for you.”

  I laugh, and then suddenly I’m crying.

  “Alessia?” Vlad crosses quickly over to me and takes my shoulders. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

  “Nothing. It’s just… this is really nice. Very thoughtful. And…” I can’t seem to stop the flood of unexpected tears. “I don’t want to fall in love with you, Vlad.”

  Alarm flashes over his face. We stare at each other, both apparently terrified by what I said.