Alessia
“Take these off me,” I moan when I wake up, my arms aching from being held in the same position too long. I hold my wrists out to Vlad, without much hope of his compliance. I am his prisoner, after all.
But he’s also not a tyrant. I can see that already. He rewrapped my wrists last night when he saw the rope was biting into my skin. And he massaged my head until I fell asleep last night. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt anything so wonderful in my life.
I’m not sure he ever slept.
He’s sitting up in bed, his clothes still on, fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop. Funny, I would’ve pegged him for the hunt and peck kind of typist. I guess I misjudged.
Without a word, he reaches over and unties me, just like that. I groan and shake my arms out, rubbing away the pins and needles before I lean over and untie my ankles.
“I want to go home.”
I know I sound like a baby. And I know he’s not going to say, “Okay” and send me home. But he ought to hear my complaints.
“Izvinyayus.”
Sorry. I guess I’m learning Russian. I remember that one from yesterday.
He hands me a plate with a blueberry muffin and checks my blood sugar like he’s an old pro. Clearly he’s done some research since yesterday. The fact that he knew to have food ready for me as soon as I got up is impressive. Even more impressive is how he administers the correct dose of insulin without me telling him. Like yesterday, when he bares my belly, I flush at having my panties revealed. At his touch on my skin. The way my body reacts to his closeness.
I finish the muffin, trying to pretend I’m unaffected. When I set down the plate, he gestures toward the bathroom. “Go. Shower. Brush teeth.”
I get halfway to the bathroom before I stop and turn. “Vlad.”
“Da?”
“Are you really taking me to Russia?”
I swear I see a flicker of regret on his face before it hardens into something resolute. “Da. You are coming. You belong to me now.”
Something flip flops in my belly. It’s not just fear. It’s something base and animalistic. It’s awareness of Vlad’s raw masculinity. His belief he owns me. Despite my anger and my refusal to submit, my panties are damp at the idea.
And that just pisses me off.
“It will be your funeral, my friend.” I have zero doubt that my brothers will kill him when they find me.
And why does that make my gut tighten?
Because I’m way too compassionate. Too attachable, if that’s a word. I already feel the need to shelter and care for young Mika. And my feelings for Vlad… aren’t completely sour.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him take me to Russia.
I need to find a way to get the hell out of here. And I’m going to start by searching the bathroom for some kind of weapon.
I close the door and lock it.
Less than thirty seconds later Vlad throws the door open, filling the space with his barrel chest and forbidding visage.
A shiver runs down my spine right before he reaches for me and yanks my dress off over my head. The shock of his punishment ripples through me. I stand in my panties fighting the tremble that starts in my inner thighs.
The backs of my knees.
Up my neck.
“What did I tell you would happen if you defy me?” His accent is thicker than usual, blue glare cold.
I’ll be damned if I cower for him though. I force myself not to move and lift my chin.
He grips my elbow and spins me around to face the mirror, then puts a hand between my shoulder blades and forces my chest down to the counter.
My breasts spread and flatten on the cool marble.
“Bad bunny.” He slaps my ass three times, hard. All in the same place.
Oh my God, he called me bunny. In English.
My stupid body thinks it’s foreplay, because I totally soak my panties. I dare a glance in the mirror and tangle in his gaze. His light blue eyes appear darker. Stormy. He holds my eyes as he spanks me again.
My pussy clenches.
Cristo, this should not be such a turn on. My ass tingles and twitches where he slapped it. The other cheek wants the same treatment. Some dark fantasy of being manhandled, of being taken roughly, perhaps even forced lurks in the edges of my sexual consciousness. A desire I’ve never acknowledged.
A seriously twisted kink.
Vlad still hasn’t released me from his gaze. He smacks the other cheek-thank God!-and his hand stays there, squeezing roughly. With his other hand, he cups my throat, lifts my torso until it hits his chest. He’s stepped right behind me, the hard bulge of his cock pressing against my panty-clad ass.
Oh Jesus, the flutters in my belly are unreal. My breath is short and trembly. His is hot, right at my ear.
“You’re down to panties, zaika. What happens if you disobey me again?”
Pussy clenches.
I don’t answer, because it seemed a rhetorical question, but he bites the place where neck meets shoulder. Hard enough to leave a mark.
I gasp.
“Answer me, printsessa.”
Flutters. More flutters. Flutters all over. Everywhere.
“I-I lose my panties?”
Oh my God, I sound like the idiot heroine of a goofy porn video.
Vlad chuckles darkly. “That’s right, printsessa. “You’ll be naked for me.” He eases his hips back and thrusts, shoving my pelvis up against the counter and his hardness between the cradle of my legs. “And if this is my reaction to your panties, what do you think I’ll do when you’re naked?”
Full-body shiver.
He shifts his hips to the side and smacks my ass again, right where I want it.
A moan falls from my lips before I can call it back. Vlad thrusts hard between my legs, his hand tightening on my neck. I whimper.
“Blyat,” Vlad mutters. “You keep making those noises, you’re going to get yourself fucked right now, printsessa. I’m trying to hold back, but you make it hard.”
Oh, Santa Maria. My eyes roll back in my head. I’m so turned on, I’m drunk with lust.
His thumb traces along the line of my jaw, fingers still wrapped around my neck. “I like the way you tremble, Alessia.”
I tremble harder. The flat plane of my belly shudders with each ragged breath. “Vlad,” I whisper.
He thrusts against me again. “Say it again.”
“Vlad.” I’m shivering. My skin hot and tingly, pussy molten.
Vlad slides the hand at my throat down and roughly squeezes my breast.
This time I let the moan out without trying to stop myself.
“You need a good fucking.” There’s wonder in his voice.
I try to swallow, but can’t. My lips open. His thumb slides in.
I bite down, hard.
He yanks it out at the same time he thrusts against my entrance again. The gusset of my panties is so soaked, I fear he can feel it through his jeans.
He pushes my torso back down and starts spanking my ass in hard slaps that rain down on one side then the other.
I moan wantonly. The pain comes as a relief. Exactly what I need to take the edge off the sexual tension threatening to shatter me from the inside out.
He doesn’t hold back, either. Each swat stings and smarts and leaves me panting and oh-so-wet. When he angles his hand to swat between my legs, a mini orgasm rips through me.