At that, I leaned back into the leather, spreading my legs wide and draping one arm across the back of the sofa, placing the other on my thigh.
The air between us had grown thick.
Charged.
“Is that so?” I said. “I recall you trembling—shrieking for me to stop.” I took a slow inhale through my nose. “Like I told you, I’m not a rapist.”
Her eyes fluttered down to her hands, and she bit her lip so hard I thought it would bleed. Fuck! My dick twitched, roaring to life. Any blood on her lip should be of my doing.
“Little lamb, you have no idea what your limits are. And baiting a man with few might get you more than you bargained for.”
Her gaze stayed fixed on her lap as her fingers worried the corner of the cushion.
“Look at me when I speak to you,” I demanded.
Her eyes shot up to mine, and those stormy irises were now hidden beneath black pools.
“If you were mine,” I said, “I’d strip you bare, tie your wrists behind your back with my belt, and bend you over that island.” I glanced toward the kitchen. “I’d have you spreading those sweetcheeks of yours apart. Holding them open for me while I drool over your little pink puckered hole as I pound my cock deep inside your cunt, knowing I’ll be fucking your ass next.”
Her eyes were enormous now. Her mouth dropped open. I’d made her pant with my words alone.
“I wouldn’t let you stand up straight until your thighs were shaking from how many times you’d come.”
I watched her carefully, enjoying every reaction I elicited.
“And then I’d flip you over, make you look me in the eye, and fuck you so hard you wouldn’t remember your own name—only mine. My woman will only have my name on her tongue…and I’ll be the only man who ever hears her cry out when she comes. I will own her body and soul, use her to please me, force her to submit fully, and punish her as I see necessary.”
Her breath caught.
She didn’t speak.
Her fingers pulled at the fabric of the pillow so hard, I thought she’d rip it.
Good, I’d gotten her attention. If there was one thing she needed to learn, it was that she couldn’t fucking tease me…or try to take control, because I would make sure she found out my appetite was limitless and I knew no mercy.
She shifted and squirmed.
Every inch of her body was screaming with need.
And I hadn’t even touched her yet.
She tightened up her legs underneath her and adjusted the throw pillow in her lap, but it was clear there was an internal war going on as she tried to figure out how to react to my words. She was attempting to demonstrate a certain, deliberate calm. She was trying to hold her ground—trying to prove she wasn’t some trembling girl who was way out of her depth.
But shewasout of her depth. And I was the fucking ocean.
Still, I admired the effort.
She cleared her throat. “So…shifting topics before you decide to run away from me again… Who are you? What are you? What’s the deal with Russian men? Is it true they’re all…y’know, psycho?” One of her eyebrows lifted. “In and out of bed?”
I snorted and shook my head. “That’s your smooth segue into small talk?”
Her lips curled up. “What can I say? I’m curious.”
“You’re right,” I said, taking a sip of my vodka. “Russian men do tend to be psycho…in and out of bed.”
She nodded slowly.
“As for me,” I continued, “I was born the heir to the most powerful Pakhan in Russia.”
