“The dress, Lena.”
I stop, my foot on the first step. I turn slowly. He’s moved. He’s at the base of the stairs now, his coat discarded on a chair. He’s unbuttoning his cuffs, the movements slow and methodical.
“Take it off,” he commands.
“No.”
He’s up the stairs before I can scream. He doesn’t grab me; he simply crowds me against the railing, his arm barring my path. He gives a sharp tug and the silk gives way, sliding down my body in a cool, red wave until it pools around my hips. I feel the air hit my skin, raising goosebumps, but the chill is instantly replaced by the heat radiating off him.
He doesn’t touch me at first. He just looks. His gaze is a physical weight, traveling from my throat to my breasts, lingering on the way they heave with my frantic breathing.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and the word feels like a brand.
Before I can find my breath, his hand is at the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair to tilt my head back. He doesn’t ask. He steers me the rest of the way up the stairs, his chest a solid wall against my shoulder, guiding me into the darkened master suite. The moment the door clicks shut behind us, he maneuvers me toward the expanse of the mattress. I fall back, the silk of the discarded dress left somewhere in the hallway, and my head hits the headboard with a dull thud.
He sinks to his knees between my thighs. I let out a jagged breath. His large hands find my waist, his thumbs digging into the soft dip of my hips, anchoring me. Then, he leans forward.
His first kiss is on my inner thigh, just above the knee. It’s dry and lingering. Then comes the heat. His tongue traces a slow, deliberate path upward, and I bite my lip so hard I taste copper. I want to push him away; I want to scream at him for the cellar, for the threats, for the way he owns me. But as his mouth moves higher, my legs fall open of their own accord.
“Razvan,” I gasp, my fingers knotting in his dark hair.
“Hush,zayka,” he breathes against my skin. “You wanted to be the center of attention tonight. Now you have it. All of it.”
He finds me with a sudden, shocking precision. I cry out, my back arching off the bed as his tongue flickers against me. It’s a rhythmic, relentless torture. He knows exactly how much pressure to apply, exactly when to slow down and when to drive me to the edge. I’m a submissive creature under his hands, my body betraying every ounce of my hatred.
The tension builds until it’s a physical ache in my bones. I’m hovering on the precipice, my breath coming in broken, rhythmic sobs.
“Please,” I whisper, though I’m not even sure what I’m asking for.
“Tell me what you want,” he growls, looking up at me, his eyes dark with a terrifying hunger.
“I…I can’t?—”
“Tell me.”
“Please…let me…”
He doesn’t wait for me to finish. He dives back in, his pace increasing until the world narrows down to the point of contact between us. The orgasm hits me like a tidal wave, violent and total. I shake in his grip, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my vision blurring.
As the waves start to recede, I try to pull back, to regain some shred of my dignity. I’m exhausted, my muscles twitching with the aftershock. But Razvan’s hands don’t loosen. If anything, they tighten.
“Not yet,” he says, his voice a dark promise.
He continues, his mouth and fingers working in a coordinated assault that makes my eyes go wide. “Razvan, no, I—I can’t again, please?—”
“You can,” he says, his thumb moving with a maddening, slow deliberation. “But you’re going to ask me for it this time. Properly.”
“No,” I moan, even as the heat starts to coil in my gut again, swifter and hotter than before.
“Yes. Ask me, Lena. Ask your Pakhan to make you come again.”
I shake my head, my hair whipping across my face. I hate him. I hate how well he knows my body. The sensation is building, sharper now, more sensitive, bordering on pain but dripping with pleasure. I’m squirming under him, my hips bucking instinctively.
“Ask me.”
The coiling tension is unbearable. It’s a scream building in my throat. My pride is the last thing I have, and I feel it slipping away, melting in the heat of his gaze.
“Please,” I sob, my voice breaking. “Please, Razvan… Make me…make me come. Please.”
