Vlad
Ty che, blyat.
I drop the bottle of superglue on the counter, transfixed by what I see on the bed.
My beautiful hostage is where I left her. Masturbating.
My dick lurches, lust rockets through me. I force myself to move slowly, to draw in a breath through my nostrils-exhale slowly through my mouth-as I walk up behind her.
“What did I tell you about moving?” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. It’s deep and rough. I slip my arm around her waist to pick up her hips and tug her arms back out, straightening them over her head.
I palm her pussy and lean over to speak in her ear. “Did I make you ache between your legs, Alessia?”
Her pussy’s dripping wet, the folds swollen and welcoming. Without intention, one of my fingers sinks into her wet heat.
She moans, undulating her hips to take me deeper.
“Do you think you deserve pleasure after what you did to me?”
A tiny whimper comes from her. Her face is pressed straight down into the mattress so I can’t see her expression, but I nip her ear, caress her folds.
My cock strains
“Apologize,” I demand.
“I’m sorry,” she says immediately.
Poor pet. I believe she is sorry. The horror on her face the moment she knifed me said everything. She doesn’t know violence. Didn’t want to perpetrate it. And that makes me admire the fuck out of her attempt. She’s brave. Strong for someone with a physical weakness. Stronger than I am, probably.
I slide a finger inside her again. She’s tight but I work a second one in.
She humps the bed.
“Beg me, zaika. Beg me and I’ll help you come,” I challenge. Her scent fills my nostrils, sweet like honey cakes.
“No,” she groans into the bed.
I still my fingers. “No?”
She shakes her head, rubbing her face over the coverlet.
Well, I’m not the dick who goes on when he’s told no. Even if her body begs without pride. I remove my hand from her wet cunt and straighten up.
And then, maybe because I’m pissed, maybe just because I still want to give her what she needs, I start spanking her again.
Hard.
She arches her back, tipping up her ass for it, parting her legs.
I should make her suffer. Endure the sexual frustration I’m experiencing. But I don’t have it in me to torture her. I spank her hard and steady for dozen strokes, then spank her pussy. Once.
Twice.
On the third time, she cries out and orgasms, her buttocks squeezing together, legs losing their footing as her toes point straight out.
If I weren’t in so much pain myself, I’d smile because I am fucking proud of myself for being the man who gets her off, even when she claims she doesn’t want it. But my testosterone rages, power and urgency ripping through me. I tear her lowered panties off her legs, then fist my fingers in her hair and use it to lift her head as I lean back over her. “Did I say you could come, Alessia?”
Her face is beautifully flushed, eyes unfocused and glassy. It takes her a moment to process my words, to find my face with her gaze. “No,” she whispers with those pouty lips.
“No. Nyet. I didn’t.” I show her the panties. “You just lost your panty privileges, too.” I drop them and reach back and slap her ass again. “Soon this pussy will belong to me. I’m the only one who gets to touch it, unless I give you permission to touch yourself. Your orgasms belong to me and me alone. If you want to come, you’ll learn to beg, on your knees with my cock down your throat. Is that clear?”
I’ve gone way too far, but I can’t seem to dial it back. My lust and frustration mingle into a potent fury.
Her throat works for a moment, then she spits out, “Fuck you.”
My lips stretch into a feral grin. “Gladly, printsessa. I’ll keep you up all night fucking.”
She pales and some of my senses return. I loosen my grip on her hair, rub away the sting on her scalp.
“Next time you come without permission, you’re going to feel my belt across that lovely ass,” I warn.
I release her completely and she hides her face between her arms with a sob.
I straighten and look down at what a fucking perfect picture she makes on my bed. I rub her reddened ass, not sure why she brings out such tenderness in me. Maybe it’s not tenderness but the need to show my ownership, prove my control.
Either way, I stroke her heated flesh in slow circles until she relaxes. Then I lift her fully onto the bed and pull the corner of the comforter up over her naked body.
Alessia
I work to stop the trembling in my limbs as we board the plane. I had a plan-my last hope-to alert anyone and everyone I see that I’m a prisoner.
But there’s no one. It’s dark out, we’re on a private flight and clearly every man here works for Vlad.
There’s no one to scream to, no one to help me.
Vlad has an iron grip on my arm and he hustles me quickly onto the craft and pushes me into a seat. I notice he’s favoring his hurt side a bit, which serves him right.
I can’t really figure out how one Russian and a twelve-year-old kid can avoid the wide, wide net of the Tacone crime family.
How this can actually be happening. Me, going to Russia to supposedly marry the enemy.
“You’re shaking,” Vlad observes as he ties me to the seat.
“I don’t want to go to Russia.”
“Too bad,” he answers immediately. “You’re going.”
“And you’re a dick,” I mutter. It’s childish, but what else can I do? Calling him names is my only option when I’m tied to a seat on a private jet, surrounded by dangerous-looking men.
Without my panties.
Yeah, he put my dress back on, but refused to let me wear panties. Said I’m still on restriction.
I know, big deal. I have far bigger problems than the fact that I’m bare-beaver under my dress, but it’s screwing with my head.
Making me hot and horny and vulnerable. Making me think way too much about the spankings he gave me today.
The orgasms.
Vlad is everything dark, dirty and dominant I never dreamed about but must’ve always wanted, because he turns me inside out. Every interaction with him I come away changed.
He crouches beside me and tests my blood sugar. Normally, with a controlled diet and regular shots, I only check it once in the morning and once in the evening.
But he was right to check. The adrenaline that’s making me shake made my blood sugar tank. He fills a needle with insulin like he’s been doing this all his life.
I flinch when he goes to lift my dress. I have no panties on and Mika is sitting a few feet away. He stops and shifts to inject my upper arm instead.
This is part of why he turns me inside out. He’s a first class asshole, for sure. A criminal who is taking me from everything I’ve ever known and loved. Holding me ransom. No, not ransom, he says he’s keeping me. But for all that, he’s also thoughtful. Aware of my reactions and needs. He may growl and threaten. He may talk a mean game, but he made a special trip to get the coffee I like. And he stopped when I said no.
I had to-there was no way I was going to beg.
No way in hell.
Which doesn’t mean my body didn’t completely revolt when he stopped. I’d been two breaths away from an orgasm.
And I can’t believe I came anyway. Just from him spanking me.
That’s what I mean about turning me inside out. I’ve never had a guy smack my ass before. I didn’t know how much it turned me on. Didn’t know about the desire that would steam, sizzle and bubble out of me like lava overflowing the side of a volcano.
Vlad rubs the injection site when he’s done, then sits beside me for takeoff.
Across the aisle, Mika appears pale, his big brown eyes haunted. He grips the arms of his chair.
I lift my chin in his direction. “Is he afraid of flying?”
Vlad produces an orange from his bag and starts to peel it as he considers him. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “Maybe Russia holds bad memories for him.”
“Worse than America?” I ask drily. The poor kid was abandoned by his own mother here.
Vlad feeds me a section of orange. “Yes.”
There’s so much in that one word. Somehow I hear a lifetime of pain, both for Vlad and Mika. Or maybe that’s just my imagination running wild.
“Could be he’s worried about his future there,” Vlad muses.
I tense slightly, worried too. “You’ll keep him, right? Take care of him.”
Something in the boy’s posture tells me he might be eavesdropping. His shoulders stiffen and he goes perfectly still.
Vlad takes a moment to answer, which makes it all the worse. “If I survive this, yes.”
“Survive what?” My voice is sharp. The urgency of securing that boy’s future feels overwhelming.
He tries to feed me another section of orange, but I turn my face away. “Your attempts at escape.”
I snort because we both know how pathetic my assault on him really was. And there’s no way in hell he’s afraid of me actually killing him.
He shrugs. “Your brothers,” he amends.
A wash of cold runs over my skin, because he’s right to fear them. They will kill him if they catch him. I have no doubt.
I look away, out the window of the plane at the Vegas lights glittering below. My brothers are down there right now. Looking for me. Pulling every string they have to try to find me.
And I’m right here. So close but out of reach.
Soon I’ll be too far from their influence. Soon I’ll be in a country where I don’t speak the language and don’t have a single friend.
I look over at Mika.
Maybe he feels the same way, minus the language barrier.
Vlad feeds me another bite of orange, then bends down and fishes another orange out of his leather satchel. “Mika,” he calls out.
The boy turns and Vlad holds the orange up.
Mika shakes his head.
“Eat it,” Vlad says firmly and tosses it to the boy who catches it with one hand. “You need your vitamins.”
A smile flickers around the corner of his mouth before it quickly disappears again. He bends his head over the orange and peels it and both Vlad and I sit back in satisfaction.
When we reach altitude, Vlad unties me and shows me how the seat converts to a fully reclined bed. I go over and help Mika with his while Vlad produces pillows and blankets.
“You need anything? A snack? Something to drink?” Vlad asks.
“Are you our flight attendant?” I shouldn’t tease when he’s being nice.
He doesn’t seem to mind. He smacks my ass lightly. “Shut up and sleep. Be good or I’ll tie you to the bed.”
“Aren’t you going to sleep?” I ask. He hasn’t converted a bed for himself yet.
He shrugs.
I wait for more of an answer but it doesn’t come.
Okay, so the guy doesn’t sleep.
Probably smart considering I tried to kill him today.
I sit on the edge of the bed. I’m exhausted but not sleepy. Too much adrenaline. Too much worry. “What is there to drink?” I ask idly.
Vlad looks over from the leather captain’s chair beside my bed. “What do you want?” He stands up, his movements lithe and graceful, like a panther. I stand and trail behind, happy to walk on my own two feet for a change. To be untied and free to move around.
In the tiny galley kitchen, there’s a refrigerator stocked with all kinds of upscale drinks.
Vlad opens it and pulls out a bottle of Chardonnay. “You drink wine?”
It shouldn’t make my heart flutter. We’re not on a date.
Wine sounds so good right now, but I don’t think my kidneys can take it.
“Seltzer water,” I say.
He pours the water and hands me my glass then opens a drawer and produces a wine key. After he opens the bottle and pours himself a glass, he eyes me and pockets the wine key.
“Think I’m going to use that on you?”
Cristo. Am I flirting?
“I know you’re thinking about it.” His tone is light, like people around him often consider killing him and it doesn’t faze him in the slightest.
I turn to slide past him, out of the tiny kitchen, but he shifts to block me from leaving. Pushes me up against the wall. His ribs pin my chest, one of his thighs presses between my legs. He holds his wine glass beside my ear and tips his head down to mine.
I gasp, my pulse picking up speed, heat flooding my body.
“You should know,” he says, accent thick, “I’m having a hard time keeping my hands off you. Knowing your panties are in my pocket.”
Some tiny whimper escapes my lips. “M-maybe you should give them back to me, then,” I say. My voice sounds breathy and thin.
His erection swells against my belly. I unintentionally grind down on his thigh and the contact gets me wet.
“Tomorrow,” he promises. “If you show me you can be a good girl on this flight. Then I won’t have to keep you tied up any more.”
I eyeball him. “How about if you don’t keep me at all?”
He eases back, which comes as both a disappointment and relief. “Sorry, printsessa. Freedom isn’t in the cards for you. You’re mine now.”
My nose burns and I draw a breath to hide the rush of tears threatening, but my eyes flood before I can look away.
Vlad’s brows drop and he cups my face gently. Strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Not forever, zaika.”
“How long?” I choke out.
He stares at me and I have the distinct feeling he’s making this up as he goes along. There is no plan. It’s both heartening and frightening at once. On the bright side, it means he’s flexible. Changeable. I can influence him.
Maybe change my future.
“Until I grow tired of you,” he says and drops his hand away. Steps back so I can pass.
As I walk in front of him, I’m acutely aware of every step. The wetness between my legs. The fact that his gaze is probably glued to my ass. I walk to the bank of chairs in front of my bed and sit down in the one by the window.
Vlad hangs back, gripping the bottle of wine in one hand and his glass in the other as he trails behind, watching me with hooded eyes.
I nudge the chair beside me. “Aren’t you going to sit?”
I failed to get myself free before we left for Russia. Now my best shot is Vlad. Make nice. Endear myself to him. Beg for my freedom.
He’s already conceded that I’ll get it eventually.
It’s my job to make sure that happens sooner than later.