Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
FIONA
He yanks my dress all the way down in one swift motion, the fabric hitting the floor before I even register the loss of it. His mouth crashes into mine as his hands roam, taking in every inch of bare skin. A quick tug at my hips, and the thong is gone too.
I should be stopping this, telling him no. But instead I just stand here, breathing too fast, heart pounding too loud, knowing how wrong this is while wanting it anyway.
His hands grip my hips as he starts to kneel before me, lips dragging over every inch of my skin. Not skipping the patches. Not pretending they’re not there.
Instead, he lingers on them. Feathers unhurried kisses over each pale mark like they’re sacred. Like I’m sacred.
And it undoes me.
Because this, him…none of it is good. It’s reckless and twisted and too intense, but I can’t pull away. I don’t want to. Even when everything in me screams that I should.
It feels too good. Too right.
He flips me around, throwing me up against the wall, and devours me. His mouth clamps around my core, and I cry out from white-hot need tearing through me as he eats me like he’s dying for it. Like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.
His tongue flicks fast and deep, his growl sending vibrations through me until my knees nearly buckle.
Then I feel it. The press of his finger…slipping into my ass.
Well, this is…new.
And not that terrible.
The harder his mouth works, the less foreign it becomes. My moan splits the air, high and desperate, while I clutch the wall like it’ll save me, like anything can save me now.
“Aleksei, oh God!” My release hits hard, crashing over me, stars exploding before my eyes.
“Again,” he grunts, pushing his finger deeper into my backside, curling it as his tongue licks and sucks like he’s trying to rip another orgasm from my soul.
I don’t know how I need to come again, but it’s more demanding now.
“Say my fucking name again.”
And I do. I chant it. His name is all I know as the sounds of my wetness echo between us. Obscene, filthy, hypnotic.
His thick fingers plunge inside me, stretching, thrusting, owning me. The faster he moves, the more my body breaks apart. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to.
And when his tongue flicks just right, when the pressure builds so tight I can barely see, I fall.
Hard.
“Yes, yes, yes!” I scream, hands tangled in his hair, body convulsing around his fingers and mouth as the orgasm hits like a tidal wave, wrecking me completely.
His beastly groan tears through my clit, his mouth wet and possessive against me, dragging every last tremor from my body until I’m nothing but boneless pleasure and rasping breaths.
Then he rises. Slowly. Predatorily. His mouth glistens with me, lips curved in dark satisfaction.
“You’re a squirter, Ms. Clark?” His mouth hovers over mine, sending my heart skipping. “Mm…” He grazes his lips across mine, tongue sweeping over the seam like he’s savoring me all over again. “That is very dangerous information.”
My brain short-circuits.
I’m what?
Before I can find words, his hand fists in my hair, wrapping the strands tight around his wrist. He grazes my bottom lip with his teeth just enough to make it sting, then pulls back with that maddening, arrogant look. The one that says he knows exactly how far under my skin he’s gotten.
He strides to a leather chair positioned like a throne in the center of the room. Only then do I take in the rest of our surroundings.
A dresser. A long wooden table. Gags. A metal leash and bar. A chair with a mounted collar. Another table, this one leather with cuffs attached, definitely meant for straddling.
Heat floods my chest.
Where the hell are we…and why is my body throbbing at the thought of him using any of this on me?
“You want to try all of that, don’t you?” He sinks onto the chair, undoing two buttons and rolling his sleeves past the thick veins of his forearms.
His gaze tracks every inch of me, every spot he touched and tasted, and it’s as though I’m being stripped all over again.
“No.” Yes.
What the hell is wrong with me? Have I seriously forgotten how hard I worked to get this bastard into prison?
He crooks a finger. “Come here.”
I take one hesitant step forward.
No. Don’t you dare do what he says.
He stops me with a look, then points to the floor.
“Net. You’ll crawl to me.” His tone drops lower. “Slowly.”
I let out a small laugh. “There is absolutely no way in hell I’ll ever do that.”
My gaze falls to the thick ridge of his cock straining beneath his slacks, and my body pulses, aching with the memory of what he did to me.
He chuckles. “Oh, but you will, Ms. Prosecutor. You even want to. You just don’t want to admit it.”
He’s not wrong. I do want to. I even like him bossing me around. Which is a whole new level of self-loathing I wasn’t emotionally prepared to unpack while stark naked in front of a Russian mobster with control issues.
He leans forward, eyes burning into me. “Your shame makes you lie, but your body doesn’t. You want to submit. You want me to take everything. To break you open and fill you until you forget your name.”
My breath hitches. It’s like he knows everything about me. Even things I’ve never said out loud.
“I can give you that, Fiona. I can give you everything you need, but only if you obey.”
My heartbeat thunders. “The last thing I want is pleasure from you.”
He chuckles, savage and cold. “Still pretending I don’t own your body?” He lounges back, the bulge in his pants impossible to ignore. “Because I just made you come so hard you squirted for me like a desperate little slut. Don’t lie to me, detka. I guarantee no man has ever made you come like that.”
His triumphant smirk deepens, and I want to cut it off.
“I won’t ask again.” His voice drops, rougher now. “Or maybe you want me to take it instead. Is that it? You want me to rip the obedience out of you?”
He stands, and with every inch of height, my lungs tighten. Power comes off him in waves, and I’m caught in its gravity. His hand fists my hair, dragging me closer until his mouth hovers over mine.
“Get your damn hands off of me.” I make some half-assed attempt at pushing him off, but it’s all a game, he and I both know it.
It’s what we do. What we both like, this sick little game we seem to be playing.
“You make me do this,” he growls, like I’m to blame for the hunger spiraling in him.
He drags me by my hair toward the table, fingers brushing over the metal chain and collar attachment.
My stomach flips. My thighs clench.
I don’t know what I expected, but the collar sliding through his hand lights up every nerve ending in my body. He turns to me with fire in his irises, brushes the hair from my neck with an intimacy that burns, and then…
Click.
The cold metal locks into place around my throat.
My pussy aches, toes curling. I don’t know what it is about this, but I seem to like it.
His gaze devours me, pupils blown.
Is this happening? Did he really just chain me like a dog?
“Obedient looks good on you. Almost too good.”
“Obedient?” I laugh. “I will never heel for you. Ever.”
“We’ll see.” He tugs once, hard enough to make my pulse spike. “Should I make you crawl, or will you be a good girl and do it for me?”
The metal sinks into my skin with a satisfying sensation, and I’m edging again, on the cusp of pleasure, wanting to drown in everything he gives me.
But I still won’t do it. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
His dark laughter ricochets through the room, echoing off the walls.
Then he firmly tugs the leash, giving me no choice but to follow.
He sinks back into the chair like a king claiming his throne, one arm draped lazily over the side, while the leash stays wrapped in his possessive grip, a silent command that makes my blood burn and anger spiral through me at the same time.
His fingertips trail down the middle of my chest with maddening slowness, drawing an invisible line straight to the place I need him most. And when he touches me there…God.
My back arches, a moan clawing up my throat as lust floods between my legs.
His hand slides lower. Deeper.
When I squeeze my thighs together, a last-ditch attempt to reclaim control, to pretend I still have any, he smirks.
“That won’t help you, Ms. Clark.” His voice is a rumble laced with hunger, dark eyes fixed on mine as he drives his fingers deeper, rougher, relentless now. “You can’t lie to me. Not when your body already belongs to me…to use however the fuck I please.”
Another sharp thrust makes my spine arch, a strangled sound breaking out of me as his other hand slides up, gripping my throat. His thumb circles my clit with devastating precision, the pressure just shy of cruel.
I try to resist. I do. But it’s too much. Too good. Too dangerous.
I hate him. Yet I want this.
And somewhere in the blur of pain and pleasure, I surrender to it all. Again.
“Please...please—” The words rip out of me on a broken gasp.
The chain around my neck tightens. His fingers pound harder. A dark, untamed grunt vibrates from his chest as he grabs my hips and lifts me like I weigh nothing, positioning me over his face.
Before I can blink, he’s devouring me. Tongue greedy. Mouth unrelenting. Forcing me to ride it, to break apart all over again.
“Oh God!”
I’ve never felt this much. Never wanted this much. Every nerve is lit. Every inch of my skin flayed open.
My head spins. My heart slams against my ribs. My body shakes with the kind of desperate pleasure I didn’t know was possible.
His grip on my hips tightens, grounding me while he sucks me and fucks me with that sinful mouth, consuming me like I’m the only thing keeping him alive. He yanks the chain, pulling at my throat as his tongue fills my hole, stealing every moan, every scream, every wreck of my soul. It’s his now.
When the release hits, it’s violent. Shattering. My whole body trembles as I break open, pleasure crashing down in waves so intense, I nearly black out.
I’m dripping over his mouth, shaking uncontrollably, and he keeps going. Sucking my clit harder, lapping up everything I give him like he’s starving for it. For me.
My thighs twitch, hips jerking against him, and still he holds me there tight in his grip, fixed to the wicked, greedy heat of his mouth.
By the time the quakes in my body finally begin to ease, I can barely pull in a full breath.
He lowers me just enough to tear the mask from my face, then his own, and the second our eyes meet, something inside me detonates.
His gaze is molten, trained on me with an intensity that steals whatever air I have left.
He drags me down slowly, like he wants me to feel every inch of the descent, and then his mouth closes over mine, urgent and insatiable. A kiss that swallows the last of my strength and makes me cling to him like he’s the only solid thing left in the world.
His fingers sink into my hair, keeping me pressed to him, to whatever this is that neither of us can stop.
He kisses me like a man who’s just found heaven and intends to claim every inch of it.
The taste of my own arousal on his lips lights up a fierce, hungry need inside me, strong enough that I drag him closer.
This is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done, and somehow…it’s the hottest.
Because it’s with him. Aleksei Marinov. My sworn enemy. The man who fills my every dark fantasy.
And now he’s here, pressed against me. Hard. Massive. His thick erection grinds against me, stoking my desire that doesn’t burn out, only builds.
I need to come again. Need to feel him. Not just inside me. I need him in my mouth, his taste sliding down my throat. I want the power, the control.
What would he sound like? Act like?
As if he hears the thoughts, he pivots back, one hand locking around my jaw, the other going to his belt.
“On your knees, Ms. Prosecutor,” he growls. “You know how to use that mouth in court. Let’s see how it does wrapped around my cock instead.”
The words hit like lightning—sharp, electric, wild.
No. Don’t do it. This is wrong. He’s wrong.
Remember everything you stand for. Your principles. Your morals. Your fucking job.
But before I can think better of it…I drop. Knees to the floor. Submission like a drug in my veins. He smirks, slow and lethal.
And somehow, that arrogance doesn’t enrage me like it should.
It thrills me.