I am unsheathed inside of her, only now realizing the risk of condom-free sex. Doesn’t matter, I suppose. We’ve risked it before. What’s one more time? And a bit of risk adds to it. Heightens each sensation.
I’ve never been much for gambling, but tonight is the night for such things.
I wind my fist into her hair for more direct control and hammer myself into her body. The sounds she makes set me alight. I’m almost there. But not before her. Never before her.
I pull out abruptly, and she whimpers with loss. But I turn her over to face me and hoist her legs up over my shoulders as I bend over her body. She’s folded in half, our eyes line up, and now I see her. Truly see her.
The fear. The love. The danger.
I don’t know what’s on her mind, but right now, I bet it’s me.
I thrust all the way in, giving her those inches she needs to come. “I want to see your face when I make you come on me.”
“Yes!” she gasps.
A stroke later, and her eyes roll back as she lets out a keening wail beneath me. I feel it when she comes, milking my length. It’s enough to bring me over the edge with her.
I have fallen with this woman, for this woman. Whatever lies on the other side of tonight, at least I had that.
27
MINA
I never wantto leave this room.
The private room swallows the noise. The walls are padded in a black leather that drinks the light. The door is heavy enough to deflect bullets. It has a bolt I watched Roman slide with his palm. No one is getting in here without his permission.
There is a sink with a steel bowl. Hooks and rings dangle in a way that appears careless, but every inch has been meticulously curated that way. It smells like clean leather and eucalyptus from a bottle someone forgot to cap tight.
This is the room people enter once they’ve made a dark choice.
I certainly have. “I want to stay in here.”
Roman studies me. His face is open and shut at the same time. “We can.” He does not ask why.
I love him for that. I hate the reason I need it.
If we stay here, Vitaly cannot get him. He cannot stand at the rail and watch me cross a line. He cannot see the switch flip and thewalls rise and my hand go under the left arm of the throne for the knife I felt but did not take. Vitaly lives for the show.
This room denies him that. I want to deny him everything.
“What is all this?” I ask, because a neutral question is a rope I can hold without my hands shaking. I nod at the strange equipment on the walls. A low cross with buckles. A line of padded cuffs. A matte black bar with silver rings at the ends. A single hanging ring that I can’t fathom the purpose of in the realm of kink.
“Hard points,” he explains. “Safe load. The anchors are rated for various weights. The cuffs lock and release by touch. The buckles are for theater. This”—he touches the hanging ring—“is not for beginners if the mind is noisy. The wall binder is kinder.”
He moves like a chef in a professional kitchen. Everything in reach. Everything where it belongs. He takes two wide cuffs from a drawer and shows me the padded lining. He opens them and closes them so I hear the click. He shows me the quick release hidden by the leather tongue.
“Do you like it?” I mean the toys, and in some ways, me.
“I like what happens when people explore their tastes in a safe way. This room allows for that.” He brushes his knuckles along my jaw where the thin scar shines. His eyes go soft the way they always go soft when he touches it. “Talk to me. You promised.”
The promise was a lie. “Show me what you do in here first.” Delay, delay, delay the inevitable. It’s all I’ve got to keep me sane.
Otherwise, the chyron in my head is too loud, too cruel.
Him, or my mother. Him, or my babies. An endless loop of doom.
I shut it out to smile coquettishly at him. Thank God, he buys it.
