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“Don’t look at me like I made it up. I prefer a woman screaming my Christian name when I’m buried deep inside her.”
“Touch her, and—” “You’ll cut off my cock and shove it down Nadia’s throat,” Ronan finished, bored. “I heard you the first time.” Nadia? The devil had a girlfriend. I wondered if he kept her locked in his basement or if she was the opera singer who played Liza.
“He’ll fucking sweat over what I’m doing to his precious daughter. And when I’m finished with you, his head will decorate my mantel.” I swallowed. “You’re sick.”
“Kotyonok,” he said, the low rumble of his voice making my entire sex throb. “I bet you taste as sweet as you smell.” I never thought this would be his intention when he won.
Tears running down my cheeks, I went somewhere faraway. Somewhere desolate and numb. He must have felt the sudden surrender in my body before he put his mouth on me because his eyes lifted to my face. He watched me for a long, suffocating moment, and then he pulled away from me.
“Don’t tell me I’ve broken my pet already,” he said thoughtfully. All of the emotion locked tight by years of obedience rose to the surface, and my eyes flashed. “Go to hell.” He smiled. “Sleep tight, kotyonok.”
“Please tell me this is some kind of kinky role-play.” I didn’t know what to say, but my expression must have told her everything she needed to know. She sighed and muttered, “In-laws.”
“Christian, look at what your brother has done.”
“He learned how to tie a knot in prison,” I said tonelessly. “Among other things, I’m sure,” she parried as if she was annoyed. “I wonder if he engaged in a threesome too.”
“I’m sure hell will freeze over before Ronan is monogamous.” She paused to look me over, her gaze settling on my neck, which I knew was marked with a hickey. “But then again . . . this makes me feel a little optimistic.” I didn’t think she was kidding.
“Just remember . . . you have a goddess inside you.” She stepped into the hall and turned to look at me. “You just have to find her.”
If this was like-for-like, I’d send her mutilated body back to him. But I didn’t want to mar her skin. I wanted her naked underneath me, her nails in my back, while I saw how many times I could make her come. The need raged inside me, hot and unrelenting. I was sure once I had it, this obsession would subside. Then I could have my cake and eat it too.
I could count how many times I’d given oral on one hand. All of those encounters happened when I was a young, horny teenager; when I couldn’t stop myself from eating the pussy spread out in front of me.
“How’s the one-pussy life treating you?” I drawled. His gaze hardened. A smile touched my lips. He was so touchy about his little wife. He was never exactly a sharer before her, but now all locker-room talk was completely off the table. He didn’t even seem to give a shit a woman had him by the balls. I never thought I’d see the day. Our mother had fucked all of the love right out of us—figuratively at least. Although . . . the analogy hit so close to home, dark amusement rose in me.
I exhaled a smoke ring, eyeing the fake heart-shaped earring on my desk. My little vegan didn’t wear fur or diamonds. Her soft heart was unanticipated given her last name, but she also hid a fire beneath.
I wanted to find the man who had dibs on my pet when I was finished with her.
I can only assume my pet wants me to hand-feed her. But just so you’re aware, the thought of my fingers in your mouth makes me hard.
“I don’t wear silk,” I said, stopping in the doorway to give the dress a fleeting look. “But you can have it.”
fress (n.) to eat without reservation and heartily
She was either the best fucking tease on the planet, or Gianna was stingy with her underwear. Hot, bare cunt pressed against my palm, and the semi I was sporting since Mila’s ass settled on my lap hardened to stone. “What are you wearing?” I asked darkly in her ear. She panted, futilely tugging at my hand between her thighs, but she still managed to mock me with the obvious. “A T-shirt?”
I was a second away from dragging her upstairs and forcing her into that dress, but her response changed things. She had a soft heart. I didn’t want to destroy it. I wanted it in the palm of my hand. And right now my hand was occupied.
“I thought Mikhailov women only needed to be fucked to survive.” For some reason, I didn’t want to tell him about her phobia. Those little details were mine. “You son of a bitch,” he seethed. “She’s not her mother—” “Save it,” I said, bored. “I’ve heard it before.”
“My room’s fine.” He chuckled at my half-assed capitulation. “Let’s not forget you had a big thing for me.” “Let’s.” “Your crush was cute.” Irritation ran down my back. “As you said before, it could have been anyone else.” I lifted an indifferent shoulder and repeated his words. “Albert maybe.”
“Is this what you want?” My voice sounded different, dipped in lingerie and seduction. His penetrating stare followed my every movement, the low words a rumble of pleasure. “It’s a start.”
“Please,” I begged, sliding my hand over his erection and up his chest, my next words harsh, “go fuck yourself.”
“Kotyonok.” It was a chuckle bit behind clenched teeth. “You’ve fucked up.”
“You’re an idiot if you think I’ll believe anything you say, D’yavol.” A hint of vulnerability touched his voice, and I realized, with a sense of disgust, the man had feelings for her. I wondered if she shared them. The idea seemed more repulsive than watching the Hallmark channel for twenty-four hours straight. “I prefer to talk about my prowess in bed over tea, but I’ll make an exception today. I assure you, Mila has no complaints.” Had, I corrected in my head. “Remember, when you have your revenge, Mila will come back to me. We’ll see who has better prowess then.”
“Does it make you feel big and strong to push me around?” “No. It makes me hard.” He held my gaze with purpose and “hard” still in the air. I refused to show that his crassness affected me. “I’m curious, is your gentlemanliness an innate behavior, or did you take lessons?”
“Fine. Don’t tell me.” I shrugged a shoulder, bringing my teacup to my lips. “I bet Albert’s lurking around here somewhere. He may not be a Chatty Cathy, but I’m sure I can figure out a way to get him to talk.” I knew I’d gone too far even before his hand lashed out, grabbed me by the throat, and pulled me
Tattooed fingers and fine china. It felt like I was Persephone dining with Hades, except the goddess came to love the ruler of the underworld. And this wasn’t a divine romance.
The full weight of his gaze could rival a shock wave. “When I fuck you, kotyonok, I promise, you’ll use ‘fuck’ in more ways than I ever fucking have.”
Finally, he hung up, using an endearing and annoying goodbye, before shrouding the room in quiet. After a moment, he said, “If you wanted a cup of diabetes, you only had to ask.” I bit the automatic retort back. Do you think two would be enough to end my time here with you? Instead, I said cordially, “I’m good. Thank you.”
“It’s just so romantic. A Russian winter wonderland, very sturdy medieval doors, and an age gap. I’m living in a Disney movie.” After watching me for a heavy second, he laughed, deep and sincere, like he couldn’t believe what just came out of my mouth. Humor slid into his words. “I have the feeling you’re not being completely sincere with me right now.” “I have no idea what gave you that impression.”
“Are you going to eat?” I blurted. “Or do you prefer to dine on human hearts in private?” He glanced up at me. “You know what I prefer to dine on in private.” Unwilling to continue that conversation, I changed the subject. “I want to talk to my papa.” “Tough.”
“Your mother was sick, kotyonok. And I mean in a strangling-puppies way. Though, sick or not, from what I’ve heard, she was a great fuck—” I threw my tea in his face.
He was going to whip me like Carlo beat his pregnant wife in The Godfather. Screw dignity. “I’m sorry!” The words escaped on an uneven breath.
malen’kaya lgunishka.”
“Knee me in the nuts again,” he growled, “and you’ll be soothing the ache.” “Let me go!” I continued to struggle, but he had my wrists in an unyielding grip while he wrapped his belt around them and tied a knot.
“Can you be more specific?” “She fornicated with everything that moved.” “So she was sexually liberated.” I was trying to see the best at all costs here.
then straightened and crossed her arms. “The girl is climbing a tree with a baby crossbill in her hand. She must be trying to see if it can fly.”
Me: Nadia: ARGH! I sat behind my desk and tried to get a clear head before breakfast. My gaze caught on a book on the desktop, and I picked it up. Paradise Lost, in which God won and D’yavol lost. A small smile appeared. I should make Mila read it to me while I fucked her.
He chuckled, and after the soft laugh filled the corners of the room, he pushed the box of cereal and almond milk toward me. “I’m not hungry,” I said. His eyes narrowed. “Eat.”
“Charismatic gangster who’s an introvert at heart? Sexual deviant? A villain with a sad past I refuse to sympathize with? Check, check, check. If you were a subject on my SATs, I’d ace it.” A hint of a laugh passed through his eyes. “I have no idea where you come up with this shit.”
“I think you’re enjoying it more than you’d like.” He went still, and then his gaze slowly lifted to examine me like I was toxic. Somehow, the bitter tea went down smoothly beneath the force of his stare. “We both know I could have you any way I want. Unfortunately for you, I have better things to do than Mikhailov whores.”
I was doused in flames, in regret and confusion. He’d taken everything from me—my papa, my mother’s memory, my innocence—and still, I couldn’t even slap him without a tight sensation of remorse and an apology rising in my throat. I hated it. I hated this house. But what I hated the most was what I didn’t hate.
The tea. Sudden tears ran down my cheeks. My desolate eyes met Ronan’s, and my words reeked of betrayal. “You poisoned me.”
One of his “fucks” hit my ears before he shot out of his chair and caught me by the waist just as my legs gave out. With my back to his chest, he shoved two fingers down my throat. I gagged on them, then threw up on his hand and the marble floor. He did it again, and again, until nothing else came up, and I begged him to stop. Hot sweat permeated
“With how much I’ve puked around you, you’d think you would take the hint.” “Ne govori.” Don’t talk. It was soft but brusque.
“How did you learn to swim?” He watched me for a second. “When I was eight, in the back seat of a car after my mother put a brick on the gas pedal and drove it into the Moskva.”
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “For hitting you.” We stared at each other so long my hand grew tired and slipped from his face. I must have fallen asleep again. When I opened my eyes, Ronan was gone, and Kirill silently read a book in a chair beside my bed.
