The door slammed behind us.
I flinched.
The echo vibrated through the silent room and rattled me to the core. He carried me with strange gentleness and ease to the cabinet before putting me down on my feet.
I quickly backed away to meet the sharp tiles of the bathroom.
I knew where this was going. And I didn’t like it.
The bathroom was dimly lit. And steam swirled faintly as he turned the faucet as hot water rushed into the tub. I eyed him warily. Taking in his frame that seemed larger than life every time he was closer. Broad shoulders, shirt flexing against his biceps as he uncuffed and rolled the sleeved to his forearm. I shuddered recalling how his large palms had me on their mercy just minutes ago.
There was no doubt.
Judas Romanovski was an enigma.
A predator cloaked in civility. A storm waiting to rip me apart.
The air around him was suffocating. Heavy. Thick with danger.
I pressed my back to the cold tiles, my skin prickling under his gaze.
His movements were deliberate. Calculated.
He opened the cabinet, pulling out a fluffy white towel and a glass bottle of oil. The faint scent of lavender mixed with the suffocating heat of the room. It felt wrong. Too serene for the monster standing in front of me.
“Strip.”
The word cracked like a whip.
I didn’t move. My breaths came fast, shallow, the walls of the small bathroom closing in. And I instinctively shifted on my toes. He couldn’t be serious. Just after making me orgasm three times, and almost taking me against my will, he wanted me to strip for him.
I shook my head and regretted recalling the cruel promises he made earlier.
When I didn’t move, he turned around and his lips curved into a cruel smile. He enjoyed this-the fear, the hesitation, the resistance.
It fed him.
When I didn’t obey, he took a step closer.
The tiles were sharp against my back, digging into my spine as if trying to keep me straight, reminding me how foolish I was.
“Do you want me to do it for you?” he muttred. A lie wrapped in velvet.
I shook my head. My throat dry.
“Then stop wasting my time.”
There was no negotiation with him. Either I strip for him, or he’d force me out of this. And his way wouldn’t be less merciless.
Defeated, my fingers fumbled with the flimsy fabric of the lingerie, trembling as I pulled it down my shoulders. Hyper aware of his eyes on me. Devouring me like his last meal.
Exposed. Vulnerable.
I felt stripped of more than fabric. He was peeling away my defenses. Layer by layer.
The lingerie pooled at my feet. And I stood there, bare. Defenceless. Hating the power he held over me.
Feeling his eyes travelling over every inch of my body, I crossed my arms over my chest. A frail attempt to shield myself from his piercing gaze.
“Don’t.” The command was low, but it wrecked me completely.
I lowered my arms.
I didn’t want to anger him. This man had shattered me beyond anything.
He stepped closer and the heat of his body brushed against my skin. Long fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him.
His eyes-void of humanity, pale and sinful-pierced through me. Like I was looking into the ice and not a man. No warmth.
“Don’t hide away. I want to see every inch of you.”
The sound of water running faded into the background replaced with violent thudding of my heart. Chills down my spine. Heat in unwanted places. And a noose around my neck. Strangling me. Choking me. Killing me.
This feeling. It disgusted me. It terrified me.
I hated him. I hated how he undid me without lifting a finger.
I was caught between paradoxes-frozen in place, yet burning alive.
My chest heaved with rage and humiliation. My hands fisted and I averted my eyes to not look at him. Not see his sinfully handsome face, carved with cruelty and control.
He was beautiful in the way a storm was beautiful-chaotic, destructive, and utterly inescapable.
I was aware of his hands on me. One than held my jaw and thumb caressing my lower lip, pulling, parting and invading. And other hand, sensually cupping the side of my waist, kneading the flesh and a low groan left his mouth.
“Eyes, Ptichka.” The words dripped from his lips like venom. And I lowered my head.
I waited for him to fist my hair and jerk my head back. But instead he leaned and my whole body stiffened the moment I felt his lips on my forehead. Eyes widened for a terrible second, and my heart unconsciously fluttered as he muttered. “That’s one.”
He turned away before I could process what he meant. My brows narrowed. What’s one?
His hands moved with eerie calm, pouring the oil into the bathwater. The scent grew stronger, cloying, suffocating.
The tub filled with warmth, steam rising like a shroud. But there was no comfort in it. No acquittal.
“Get in.”
I didn’t move. And he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s two.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Three.”
My jaw clenched. And I glared at him. He couldn’t be counting to spank me, right? There was no way.
“Keep standing there and it will go up.”
In an instant, I was dragging myself to the tub before I heard his low chuckle.
The warmth swallowed me the moment I stepped in and scalded against my chilled skin. He crouched beside the tub and his hands trailed the water, sending ripples through the surface. His gaze never left me.
“You look like a frightened animal.”
I clenched my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But this devil of the man had other ideas. Instead, he played with my ears as I pulled my knees to my chest and hugged them. He chuckled. “Relax, I will not bite.” he murmured tenderly and let his fingers run along my nape slowly.
“Not until you decide to run.”
I wanted to scream, to fight, to claw my way out of his grasp. But the water was too warm. His voice was too steady. And I was too weak.
It didn’t sit well with me he was letting me have bath by myself. A part of me expected him to join. Not romantically. But I knew he liked to force things on me, I thought he’d be a pervert.
I trembled as the back of his fingers trailed down my chest and then flickered over my nipples.
I tried to resist. His grip tightened. My pulse spiked.
“Stop,” I whispered.
He chuckled. “You don’t get a say anymore, little bird. Enjoy my hospitability while you can.”
He didn’t touch me like a lover. He handled me like I was his possession.
And defeated and crushed, I let him do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t like I had any choice here. I stayed silent the whole time he grabbed the body wash that smelled so much like him- leathery and sinful, and lathered it on his hands all while tending to me. Like the devil he was, he paid extra attention to my breasts, between my thighs and my arse. The more I tried to scramble, the rougher he got. By the time he was done, he had me orgasm two times.
The bastard laughed all while. Enjoying as I limped out of the bathroom with a large fluffy towel around me. My body had gotten so sensitive ever since he started handling it. It was like it never belonged to me.
Before I could stumble and knock myself, he scooped me up again, effortlessly cradling me against his chest. My struggles were useless. His strength was overwhelming, and the heat of his skin against mine was maddening.
He lowered me into the bed with deliberate care. I huffed as he ruffled my wet hair and pecked my jaw. “Be a good girl for me. Don’t move.”
His hand lingered for a moment before he pulled away and strolled towards the closet. It wasn’t like I could move after everything. I was exhausted to be honest. And my body was at its limit.
I waited patiently for him as I looked at the window.
This man was so confusing. One moment he was strangling me, threatening me, forcing me, hurting me and the next, he was tending to me like I was the most fragile thing he’d ever held.
I sighed looking at the moon outside. Its light spilled through the glass. Cold and beautiful. Much like him.
My throat ached where his hands had been. Red marks. Fading bruises. Ghosts of his rage. And yet, my skin still tingled from his careful touch.
He wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t cruel now. The contradiction stung worse than the pain. I wanted to hate him. I needed to.
But then he’d look at me. Like I was his salvation. Like I was his ruin. And everything in between.
I stiffened when he came back. This time holding some clothes and a small box in his large palms and my eyes moved to his veiny arms. Dark and protruding and then to his eyes. My chest tightened as I realised he was holding his shirts and not the clothes he got for me. I wanted to fight, to tell him I didn’t want him anywhere near me, and then I recalled his threats. I knew he’d fulfil them with heart.
So, I remained quiet. And watched as he put the clothes beside my hips and hooked his hands under my armpits and lifted me up as I gasped. “What-”
“You’ll catch cold.” He whispered taking the towel off of me and throwing it on the chair before drying the remaining water with another towel, careful enough to not put much pressure between my legs. I stared at him I shock and utter belief.
My cheeks burned as I clenched my legs and looked away letting him dress me in his white shirt that barely reached my thighs and barely held the cold out. The pervert didn’t bother to bring any panties or bra. Or he simply didn’t care.
Was he being serious about roaming without undergarments?
I was so doused in my thoughts when his hand brushed mine. And a electrifying current ran through me as I jolted. Warm. Strange. Wrong.
I didn’t flinch. I should have. But I didn’t.
The fact didn’t seem to bother him. But my heart was thudding faster than it should.
He pulled out the item from the box as his fingers gripped it. My breath hitched the moment I realised what it was.
A blush surged up my neck, burning hotter than before, and I tried to shrink into the shirt he’d draped over me. But it was no use-his presence consumed the space, leaving nowhere to hide.
I unconsciously took a step back before his hand shot out and he grabbed me by the bicep.
“Be still,” he murmured commandingly. My eyes widened.
“No-”
“Four.”
My jaw clenched and eyes burned.
I froze as every instinct screamed at me to run. But I stayed. My body wouldn’t move, rooted in place by a strange cocktail of fear, anticipation, and something dimmer.
He squeezed my arm and before I knew he turned me around and pulled me to his hard chest. My breath hitched and I struggled as he pushed me down on the bed and forced my arse up. “Relax your ass, sweetheart.”
I panicked. “No, wait-”
He leaned pressing the strange looking thing against my lips. “This is for you.” And pushed it into my mouth.
For me? My mind reeled at the absurdity of his words.
“I… I don’t need it,” I stammered as he pushed the thing in and out of my mouth.
His hand cupped my jaw like he could see straight through my protests. “It’s not about you, it’s for me.”
My legs clenched tighter, but his hold didn’t waver. Pulling the thing out of my mouth, I watched as thin strand of saliva coated it and his fingers on my hips shifted between my arse as he played with untouched part of me. I trembled as he pushed his one finger inside me and I let out a breathless whimper.
The invasion stretched me.
He pecked the back of my neck. “Relax,” As if it were that simple.
I shook my head slightly, biting my lip to keep from crying out, from protesting further. This man was impossible, infuriating.
But he didn’t rush. His fingers traced lazy circles on my arsehole coaxing me into submission. The pain was unbearable. And the more I thrashed, the rougher his hold got.
And then, as if to remind me who held the power, he pressed that plug against my arse.
“You’ll take it,” pushing it in as tears danced in my eyes, he muttered, “because you’re mine.”