Chapter 9 Miko #2
To wait until we’re married before I act upon my attraction to her—but she’s making that painfully hard as she thrashes against me, her struggles triggering my animal instinct to bend her to my will.
“Anika, stop,” I command, my arms tightening like a vise to restrict her movements as I press her more firmly against the wall.
To my surprise, she obeys—a reaction that only intensifies my attraction to her as she awakens my inner Dom.
Her breaths come in pants, washing across my chest as she glares up at me with such fire, I’m struck by a sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss her.
I want to feel the searing heat beneath her skin.
And the longer I hold her here, the more electric the air grows between us.
She can feel it too. I see it in the way her eyes dilate. Her tongue dances out to lick her lips, and suddenly, that ferocity inside her shifts into something else entirely.
“Why won’t you let me go?” she breathes, her sky-blue eyes soft and wide with exasperation.
The underlying fear there tears at my heart, even as my body throbs with need from her proximity.
“It’s not safe for you out there,” I repeat, willing her to believe me this time.
“You might think asking your husband’s men for protection is the right choice, but that could be just as risky as going out on your own,” I insist. “They’re fighting amongst themselves, Anika, and you’re a sure symbol of a man’s right to power.
Those men would tear you apart to lay claim to their former Pakhan’s wife—and the authority that would earn them. ”
“And that isn’t exactly what you intend to do to me?” she demands, looking pointedly between us at my erection pressing firmly into her stomach.
Busted. Clearing my throat, I shift my grip to hold her upper arms so I can put some distance between us. “No, it’s not,” I growl. “Now, let’s go.”
“Where?” she asks, her voice suddenly breathy with fear.
“I’m taking you back to your room.”
Anika casts a glance up at me from the corner of her eye, and I can see the anxiety written across her face.
It was a poor choice of words, I suppose, since she knows how achingly hard I am for her right now. But I’m wound too tightly to try explaining myself right now.
Turning toward the house, I pull her along beside me, slowing down to a more reasonable pace when she stumbles in her struggle to keep up.
I can’t bring myself to meet her eye as we walk, and I grit my teeth, lacking the words to apologize for my body’s reaction to her or further try to convince her that I’m somehow different from the men she’s so desperate to seek help from.
Am I that different in the end?
I can’t stop the burning guilt that builds inside me, because I can’t deny just how desperately I want Anika.
She’s beautiful, regal, and so full of spirit, it’s driving me insane.
I want to taste that fire—to possess it, tame it—and that makes me just as bad as the rest of the men who might force themselves on her.
The only difference is, I’m trying to protect her.
I don’t just want her for myself. I want to make sure no other man can have her—hurt her.
And I’m confident that’s what would happen if any number of other men got their hands on her right now. She just doesn’t seem willing to accept that.
As we reach the door to her temporary prison, I grunt with frustration as I push her back into the room where I’ve been keeping her.
Without another word, I close her inside, my last glimpse of her burning into my brain as she watches me with guarded eyes.
Taking a moment to compose myself, I stop the nearest soldier I can find to guard her door.
In the confusion of the skirmish at the south gate, her former guard must have left his station. I’ll need to be more articulate about my expectations in the future.
But right now, it’s all I can do to keep my sanity as I leave Anika in his custody and make my way toward the room where I’ve been staying.
I need some time alone to manage the ravenous need pounding through my veins.
I consider a cold shower to get my body back under control, but it’s been weeks since I’ve been to Portentia’s, the club my family owns and frequents to deal with our bachelor needs.
That combined with the stress of these past few days—and then having Anika trapped against me, her perfect body awakening dark desires within me—is more than I can suppress.
A cold shower won’t be enough.
Undoing my suit pants as soon as I reach the bathroom sink, I pull out my throbbing cock.
The tip is already weeping with the memory of Anika’s petite frame molded against mine, her sky-blue eyes fierce in her defiance.
Before the guilt can consume me, I give my rock-hard length a stroke, and I groan as sweet relief washes through me.
Bracing one hand against the counter, I close my eyes, my vision filling with the beautiful young Russian widow who’s soon to be my wife.
Every time I’m near her, the air feels electrified. I’ve never wanted a woman so badly, and feeling her warm and soft and squirming against me awakens an animal desire inside me that I’ve never tried to contain.
I shouldn’t want her like I do. I’ve never wanted a woman like that before.
But with Anika, I can’t seem to help myself.
She’s consuming my every waking thought, haunting my dreams as well.
Heat sears through my veins as I stroke my cock to the image of her looking up at me with those big blue eyes.
I could easily fool myself into thinking she felt it too—the connection between us that is driving me out of my mind.
Just the thought of kissing her makes my cock pulse in my palm.
I doubt Anika would like it if she knew I was jerking off to thoughts of her. But I can’t help myself.
I want to know what she feels like in the midst of her rapture. I want to hear the sounds she makes when she comes.
I want to taste the sweet honey between her thighs as I devour her. I want to fill her with my seed so she’s ruined for any other man.
It’s the thought of Anika lying beneath me, crying out in ecstasy as I spear her with my cock that makes me come.
I have just enough time to grab a Kleenex from the box on the counter to catch it in, and I grunt as I wrap my palm around my swollen tip, releasing my cum in thick ropes.
Breathing heavily, I toss the spent Kleenex in the trash and groan—because the aching desire to fill Anika with my cock isn’t the least bit satiated.
Some of the tension knotting my shoulders is gone, but my craving for Anika is no less.
My body won’t be satisfied until I’ve tasted the real thing.