20. Lacey
20
LACEY
What the fuck? What the fuck!
What the actual fuck!
My heart pounds against my chest as I stare at the array of glittering jewelry laid out before us. What the fuck have I gotten myself into? I was only trying to get under his skin, to push back against his control.
Now look where that's landed me.
He can't be serious. Can he? But the determined glint in his storm-gray eyes tells me he doesn't joke about these things.
My eyes dart to his face, searching for any hint that this is just another power play. But his expression remains unreadable, those storm-gray eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.
Oh God. He's actually going to do it.
I should be horrified. And there's a part of my mind that is.
But then there's another part of my mind that stirs awake at the thought of his hands on me, fingers brushing against my nipples, the anticipation of the piercing needle prickling my sensitive flesh. Those same hands moving down to expose my clit.
It's so intimate, so close...
No! Stop it! Am I seriously getting turned on right now?
Think about the pain. Think about how much it'll hurt.
But somehow that only makes it worse. Because now I'm imagining him soothing the sting with a searing hot kiss, his breath hot against my skin...
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I should call his bluff. Tell him this has gone far enough. But my mouth won't form the words. Instead, I'm fixated on the careful precision he'd need, the attentive way he'd drink in the details of my body, and his touch—equal parts rough and gentle.
My thighs press together of their own accord, and I'm deeply aware of just how wet I am. If he notices… But I can't help it. Every time I try to talk myself down, my mind conjures new scenarios, each dirtier than the last.
Oh god.
There's a small, twisted part of me that wants him to do it. Wants to feel him mark me with these beautiful, dangerous pieces of jewelry. Wants to belong to?—
Nope. Not going there. This is just a game. Just like the marriage. Just like everything else.
So why can't I stop fantasizing?
"I can hear you thinking from here, zvyozdochka ." Vadim leans close, his breath tickling my ear.
A shiver runs through me at his proximity. He smells intoxicating—spicy and masculine. His fingers start tracing lazy circles up my thigh, reminding me of what happened in the car and what we did when Aria had stepped away.
"I warned you that you were playing with fire." His voice drops lower. "And what did you say? That you wanted to get burned?"
I part my lips to fire back a retort, but quickly press them together. If I open my mouth now, I know exactly what sound will escape—and it won't be words.
The click of heels announces Aria's return. She carries a steel tray loaded with supplies: a piercing gun whose needle is gleaming under the lights, alcohol wipes, and a box of black latex gloves.
"Here you are, Mr. Stravinsky." She sets everything down on the glass table before us, her voice high and tight. "Will you be needing anything else?"
Vadim's lips curl into that dangerous smile. "Just privacy, thank you. Go talk to my driver Demyon, he'll finalize the purchase."
His eyes then turn towards mine again with a knowing look, as if he's giving me an opportunity to protest, to beg Aria to stay. My pulse races. This is it.
My one chance to back down while I still can.
Instead, a reckless heat floods through me.
I don't beg.
So, against my better judgment, I give Aria a quick, curt nod. She blinks rapidly and wrings her hand nervously. For a moment, I want her to say something—anything. But she doesn't. Instead, she walks to the door, opens it, and looks back one final time.
"Very well, then. Thank you, Mr. Stravinsky. And congratulations to you both.”
The door closes with a soft click behind her.
And just like that, we're alone.
Vadim rises to his feet and extends his hand out to me.
Against my better judgement, I take it, and he helps me up with an effortless pull of his arm. My breath catches as I rise to meet him.
With an unnerving gentleness, he guides me to the full-length mirror, positioning me directly in front of it. The reflection shows every detail of what he's done to me already—my flushed cheeks, my parted lips, the way my altered dress clings to my curves.
And the unmistakable embers of lust smoldering in my eyes.
"Stand still, zvyozdochka ." His lips feather against my ear as he circles behind me. Heat radiates from his body, making me hyper-aware of the ever-shrinking space between us.
"What does that word mean? Zvyozdochka ?" I manage to whisper, watching his reflection move closer to mine. "You've been calling me that since the moment you saw me."
"It means 'little star.'" His hands settle on my hips, thumbs pressing into the silk of my dress. "And by the time I'm done with you, you're going to shine like one."
My pulse races at his words. This is insane. I should be terrified of what he's about to do: letting a mafia boss—no, a bratva pakhan, I correct myself—pierce my most intimate places with jewelry worth more than all the money I've ever made in my life.
It's dangerous, reckless, and irreversible.
So why the hell does every cell in my body ache for it?
His fingers trace up my sides, and I can't stop the small gasp that escapes my lips. The mirror shows everything—the way his eyes darken as they roam over my body, how my chest rises and falls with each shallow breath.
I should stop this. I should tell him no. But the thought of his hands on me, reshaping me forever with those beautiful, dangerous pieces of jewelry. To make me shine and glitter like a star in the sky.
His star.
My thighs press together involuntarily, trying to ease the warm wet ache building between them.
This isn't just about the piercings anymore. It's about possession. About belonging. About letting him claim parts of me that no one else has ever claimed in a way that only he can.
And God help me, I want it all.
I close my eyes as a whimper escapes my lips.
I hear a metallic jingle behind me and my breath catches. This is it. My heart thunders against my ribs as I imagine the piercing gun's needle, cold and sharp.
But instead, something heavy and cold drapes across my throat. The weight of it makes me gasp.
"Open your eyes, zvyozdochka ," Vadim whispers, his breath hot against my ear.
I do, and my mouth falls open at the sight in the mirror. The necklace lies against my skin like captured stars. The massive center diamond takes in every whisper of light in the room, throwing rainbow-kissed shadows across my collarbone. Two gleaming rows of white gold drape like liquid moonlight across my throat, supporting a cascade of diamonds that make me look as if I'm wearing the night sky itself.
His hands slide to my shoulders, fingers slipping under the thin straps of my dress. My nipples start hardening in anticipation of what is coming next.
"Do you see how the diamonds glimmer?" His lips brush my ear, the heat of his voice pouring down my neck. "Like stars scattered across your skin. But they're nothing compared to how you'll shine soon. A whole constellation to be mapped by my hands."
A shiver runs through me at his words, at the way his thumbs trace slow circles on my bare shoulders.
As much as the necklace captures my eyes, my mind keeps thinking about the other necklace in the display case—the understated one with its delicate three-stone design.
My heart aches at how similar it looks to Mom's necklace, the one that had been passed down her side of the family for generations before Freddy pawned it.
I remember Mom showing it to me and Megan before she got sick. "One day," she said, "this will go to one of you."
But like everything else precious in our lives, Freddy took that too.
Vadim's fingers trail down my shoulders, bringing me back to the present moment. The weight of this massive diamond necklace feels wrong against my skin. Too heavy. Too showy. Too much like everything I'm not.
"So beautiful," he murmurs against my neck, his breath hot on my skin. "But not as beautiful as what's underneath."
The straps slide down my arms, inch by torturous inch. My skin pebbles at his touch as he exposes my breasts.
"Soft and unbroken," he whispers, lips brushing my shoulder. "A perfect canvas waiting to be marked." His voice drops lower, darker. "I can't wait to pierce your pretty pink nipples. Can't wait to make them glimmer with light every time you move."
The silk bunches at my waist as he exposes more of me. He presses his lips against the back of my neck, without ever taking his eyes off me.
"And here..." His hand splays across my stomach. "A column of stars only for me."
His teeth scrapes along the sensitive skin towards the bend where my neck meets my shoulders as he rolls the silk past my hips.
The dress slips, dragged down by its own weight until it pools around my ankles. Even in the mirror, I can see my panties are soaked. Powerful fingers hook under the thin materials and start rolling them down until they join the dress around my ankles.
Cool air kisses my skin, and I feel my hips arching back instinctively to meet the pulsing heat nestled against my ass.
He pulls my legs apart just enough to exposes my pussy. The dark smile on his face widens when a finger starts probing at my wet entrance, drawing a gasp from my lips.
"Wouldn't that be something, zvyozdochka?" Vadim whispers. "To feel the weight between your legs with every step you take, reminding you just who this hungry little cunt belongs to."
I should be terrified. But all I feel is wetness weeping between my legs at his words.
My eyes lock with his in the mirror as his words paint vivid pictures in my mind.
Stars scattered across my skin, diamonds catching light with every breath. My nipples would glitter and shine, drawing his gaze whenever I move. Each time I wear anything that might expose my belly, I would see his handiwork.
And between my legs… I shudder.
I can practically feel the cold metal and precious diamond of the clit barbell.
A whimper escapes my lips as heat surges through me. My pussy clenches uselessly around nothing as his finger hovers just outside of it, catching every drop of arousal dripping from the aching need to be filled.
His personal constellation.
Zvyozdochka , I can hear him whispering in my head. My little star.
Shivers run down my spine.
"Tell me to stop now," he whispers, breath hot against my ear. "You still can."
I don't say a word.
"Have it your way, then."
My heart pounds against my ribs as he puts on a pair of black gloves from the box, rips open an alcohol pad, and picks up the piercing gun. The metal gleams under the lights, the needle sharp and waiting.
The cold wipe touches my right nipple, and a strangled gasp punches from my throat. He traces lazy circles around the sensitive bud, and I feel the cold metal of the piercing gun press against my heated flesh.
I imagine the sharp sting of the needle followed by the weight of diamonds—permanent, irreversible proof of what I'll let him do to me.
Would I scream?
Reality crashes through my lust-filled haze.
What the fuck am I doing? This isn't just some game anymore! These marks would be forever – a permanent reminder of this insane moment.
I agreed to help him rob a church, not for him to do this!
“No!” I gasp, reaching up to grab his wrist. “Stop.”
"Oh?" His eyes meet mine in the mirror, dark with triumph and he lowers the piercing gun.
"I admit it. You win." The words tumble out in a rush. "I was just trying to get under your skin. I didn't think you'd actually..."
My voice trails off as his fingers trace along my collarbone, just beneath the heavy necklace. "Please don't hurt me."
"I told you, zvyozdochka. " His thumb and index finger pinch my nipple, sending a burst of pleasure circling out. "I won't hurt you unless you ask me to. And I certainly wasn't about to mutilate your perfect body without your permission."
Relief floods through me as Vadim's words sink in. My legs go weak and I sag back against his solid chest, heart still racing from what almost happened. What I almost let happen.
I watch in the mirror as he peels off the black latex gloves. The sound of snapping rubber in the air sends another dark shiver down my spine.
“Now…” His lips brush my ear, sending tingles down my spine. “If both of us are done pretending, you need to apologize for making me purchase all this useless jewelry."
"I-I'm sorry," I stammer, very aware of my naked body pressing against him.
His hands drift down my sides, fingers tracing patterns that make my skin erupt in goosebumps.
"Not like that." His hand slides past my stomach. "I want a proper apology from my very improper fiancée."
My breath catches in my throat as his fingers dip between my legs, and finds me soaking wet.
I’m so fucked. I keep repeating in my head.
I shouldn’t be this wet. I shouldn’t be so turned on by how easily he takes control of everything.
But at the same time, there’s an undeniable pull at what he’s doing. An inexplicable sense of freedom at how good it feels to surrender to someone like him.
A finger pushes inside of me and I whimper.
“Well?” He asks.
"I'm sorry, darling." I mew softly, embarrassingly aware of how easily his finger is moving inside of me.
Of how badly I want him to do more.
To show me just how much further I can fall.
"No, zvyozdochka , I said a proper apology." his voice hardens into a command. "On your knees."