Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
MILA
“ Y ou look lovely,” Boris tells me, trailing his fingers down my arm. I smile, but it’s forced. By how his eyes tighten, I can tell he knows I’m faking it.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Am I not allowed to visit your sister’s husband? He worked with your father in the past. So, why not me now?”
I don’t know what to say. Boris gives me the chills, and all I want to do is run far away from him, but he’s unstable. Who knows what he’ll try to do?
“And we never got to have our wedding,” he says. “I’ve come to get you back, Mila. You belong to me.”
“She does not belong to you,” Vik says, coming to stand beside me.
Boris’s lips turn into a straight line when he turns to Vik. “Ah. Viktoriya. Looking beautiful as always. How is your ankle? Hurts much?”
She covers her cast with her dress. “You will leave my sister alone.” Vik takes my arm and starts to drag me away, but Boris calls out, “Mila and I will be married!”
“You are not marrying him,” Vik says.
“But how? Boris is here. And Mikhail is making us leave. I’ll have no choice.”
“We’ll figure something out.” I want to believe Vik, but she’s let me down too many times. My eyes find Sofiya’s across the room, and she nods, her gaze telling me I’ll be ok.
She walks over to us and takes my hand in hers. “You’re going to be ok, Mila. You and Vik can stay.”
“Really?” I gasp and hug Sofiya tightly.
Vik crosses her arm, giving Sofiya a dubious look. “How did you get Mikhail to change his mind?”
Sofiya doesn’t answer. She only looks at me and smiles. “You will be ok, Mila. I’ve made sure of it.”
Even though I’m ecstatic I won’t have to marry Boris, I wonder what Sofiya gave up to convince Mikhail to let us stay. Because I might be innocent about a lot of things, but one thing is obvious—Mikhail is not a man who easily changes his mind. I can tell from Sofiya’s eyes she’s not telling me everything, and that worries me.
What has my sister done to protect me?
SOFIYA
For the rest of the evening, I stay by Mikhail’s side. He doesn’t take his hand off my back once, as if he’s already claiming me. I haven’t given Mikhail my virginity yet, but already, I’m fully his, and we both know it.
My eyes land on Irina, who’s chatting up a man. “Why is she here?”
Mikhail glances in Irina’s direction. “I invited her.”
“Why? I thought you were done with Irina?”
“I am. But I know the last party I threw didn’t go so well, so I wanted more women here. Only so many of my men are married. I thought Irina would be a welcome sight.”
“She’s not,” I blurt out.
He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. After a moment, he draws me in closer to his body.
Boris fortunately leaves Mila alone after Vik stands guard in front of her, but then he sets his sights on me and walks over. “Mikhail, nice to see you again.” They shake hands.
“Is it, Boris?” Mikhail asks. “Because the last time we saw each other, you were kidnapping Sofiya, and I had to stop you.”
He waves a dismissive hand. “Semantics. That’s all in the past now. I have just come here to collect Mila and will be going back to New York.”
“You see, Boris, Mila and Viktoriya will be staying in Moscow for the time being. Here. With Sofiya and me. So, you will not be able to marry her, I’m afraid.”
Boris’s lips turn into a sneer until he smooths out his features. “Well, Mila and I can just get married here. If I’m not mistaken, you and Sofiya married in Moscow.”
“We did. But you are not marrying Mila, Boris.” Mikhail’s hand tenses on my waist. “Sofiya’s sisters are off-limits now.”
“But you can’t! I have a right to them. Denis Morozova himself gave me that right.”
Mikhail shrugs. “Well, Denis Morozova is dead.” I flinch at his blunt statement. My father is dead, and so is my mother, and I’m reminded of how much I miss her again. Would she have been able to protect me from everything? Even though my mother was an amazing woman, I doubt it. She was still a woman, after all.
“I have it in writing,” Boris argues.
Mikhail grabs Boris’s shoulder, and judging by his wince, Mikhail is gripping his shoulder tightly. “Writing doesn’t mean anything if the man who wrote it is dead. Sofiya is my wife, and so my protection extends to her sisters as well. Now, you can stay in Moscow if you want. I can’t force you to go. But you will not marry Mila or Viktoriya. Is that understood?”
I stare at my husband, drinking in his strong frame and handsome features. I know he’s only doing this because I agreed to his deal, but he’s still doing it, and that’s what matters. Mikhail will protect us. I trust he’ll keep to his word.
“Is that clear?” Mikhail asks.
Boris glares at him, not saying anything for a tense moment until he nods. “That is clear.”
“Wonderful.” Mikhail pats his shoulder. “Now, be off. I’m done talking with you.”
With a huff, Boris walks away.
“Thank you,” I say.
He doesn’t question why I’m saying it. He just knows. “You’re welcome.”
I wake up the next morning with the knowledge that soon, Mikahil will be taking my virginity in front of a group of people. He wants to do a dom/sub scene before we have sex. Am I ready for it? Not at all.
Am I going to do it? Absolutely.
The safety of my sisters means more to me than anything else. And if I’m being completely honest with myself—I want Mikhail to take me. His touch lights me on fire and consumes me. I want more.
Mikhail is already dressed when I sit up in bed. “Tonight, at eight, I will take you to the club.”
“The … BDSM club?” I whisper.
“Yes. This is not a punishment. Tonight will only be about pleasure. I want to show you more about that part of my life.” He cups my cheek and leans down to kiss my forehead. “Thank you for agreeing to this.”
His words fill me with pride.
“Now, I have work to attend to. Be ready at eight.”
“What should I wear?”
“I’ve picked out an outfit for you.”
After he leaves, I go into the closet and see what he chose. The sight of the dress almost makes me have a heart attack. The dress is light pink, which isn’t a problem. I’ve worn pink many times before. I know Mikhail likes me in it—he finds my innocence attractive.
It’s the style of dress that’s the problem. It’s very short. I’m not even sure it will completely cover my butt. It’s more of a top than a dress. The bodice is more conservative, at least, but it won’t matter if my breasts aren’t hanging out when my butt will be. There’s no bra or underwear with the outfit. Does that mean …
I push the thought away. Surely, I can wear underwear with this. I have to.
After staring at the dress for a long time, I force myself to leave and go down for breakfast. I’ll need sustenance to tide me over until tonight.
Mila and Vik are in the kitchen, already eating. Mary sneers at me as I grab my plate of food from her, but I ignore her. I’ve gotten used to it.
We’re all silent as we eat. I know my sisters know something is up, but they won’t ask me about it. Ignorance is bliss, after all.
We spend the day together, watching TV and going out for coffee—with Mikhail's permission—but during all that time, we don’t talk about it . The reason I was able to convince Mikhail to let them stay. There’s an unspoken promise not to ask because I wouldn’t answer anyway. My sisters don’t need to know what happens between Mikhail and me. They don’t need to know what I’m giving up to make them safe.
When seven thirty rolls around, I tell them I need to get ready for tonight. “Mikhail and I are going out. I think it would be best to stay in your rooms for the rest of the night.”
Mila looks confused, while Vik looks resigned.
“Just be safe,” Vik tells me.
“I will be.”
At eight o’clock, I’m in the dress Mikhail chose for me. I was right when I first looked at it—the dress barely covers my butt. I put on a pair of pink underwear, which helps, though the underwear is still slightly visible. The dress doesn’t leave anything else to the imagination. It’s tight and shows off my every curve.
I walk downstairs and meet Mikhail in the foyer. He looks handsome in his white button-down, slacks, and jacket. His eyes look right at my lower body.
“You’re wearing panties,” he says.
“I am.” I tug my dress down slightly, but it’s futile. The dress is staying put, and it’s not going lower.
“I didn’t pick out any panties for you to wear. Take them off.” He doesn’t say it harshly, just matter-of-factly.
“But the dress is too short.”
“That’s exactly why I chose it. I want to be able to reach between your legs at any point tonight and make you come.”
I gulp as my body lights up. A throb flashes right between my legs, and I hate that it happens, but I secretly love that it happens, too.
“So, take them off for me, Sofiya.”
Keeping my eyes locked with his, I slip my underwear down and hand them to him. Mikahil’s eyebrows raise slightly at my initiative, but he doesn’t object as he pockets the panties.
He offers me his hand. “Let’s go.”
Without hesitating, I slip my hand in his.
The club from the outside is nondescript. It looks like any other building—gray and stern. But walking inside, it’s like an entirely new world. Everything is either red, black, or gold. It would normally be an eye-sore, but within the club, it manages to be soft and seductive.
It’s not a normal club with a dance floor. In fact, there’s no dance floor to be seen. There is a bar, though. But what stands out is that in the middle of the room is a stage, and on that stage is a bed.
Next to the stage is a hallway filled with rooms. Windows reveal what’s happening inside the rooms, and what I see shocks me. People tied up. People crawling on their hands and knees. People naked. People getting whipped or spanked. Blindfolds and gags. And a lot of people watching.
Sex. Sex is everywhere. People are having sex against the walls or on couches set up all along the room. It’s wild. I think it’s insane, but the other attendees don’t seem bothered by it at all. In fact, a lot of people seem to be turned on by the voyeurism.
Mikhail holds my hand, letting me look around. A woman walks by me with a gag in her mouth and her hands tied behind her back. Her breasts are pushed up, and I notice the cut of her dress reveals her nipples. A man walks in front of her, tugging her wrists with a rope. I sink in closer to Mikahil, and he wraps his arm around my waist.
The air in the room is both warm and cool—the perfect temperature. I can feel it on my bare skin under my dress. The fabric of my dress lies right on the round part of my butt, exposing the underside of my backside for anyone to see. It’s scary—anyone could touch me. But I don’t think Mikhail would let them.
“What do we do?” I whisper.
“We’ll look around for a while. I want to get you acclimated to everything before we participate in anything. Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me to one of the bedrooms, where a wide window overlooks the scene.
A woman is on her hands and knees, crawling to another woman wearing a leather outfit and carrying a whip. She brings it down onto the back of the woman on her hands and knees.
“That’s a dominatrix,” Mikhail explains. “A female dom.”
“I didn’t know that …”
“That a woman could be like that? You didn’t know anything about BDSM before you met me.”
I blush. “True. I just don’t know how a woman could be in control like that. Why she would want to be.”
“Because, like everyone else here, it turns her on. Let’s keep moving.” We walk to the next bedroom and look through the window.
A man and woman are having sex on the bed, except she’s tied up to it. I quickly avert my eyes. Mikhail places his fingers under my chin and draws my gaze back to the man and woman. “Don’t look away. Make me proud, Sofiya.”
I force myself to watch the couple have sex. The man is rough with his thrusts into her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. The longer I watch, the more I feel a twinge within my body. A twinge of arousal.
I gasp at the sensation and look down. My wetness is seeping out and slowly dripping down my upper thigh. I clench my legs together to stop it from happening.
Mikahil’s fingers graze the underside of my butt, making me jump. “Don’t shut your legs, Sofiya.” He taps the back of my upper thighs, and I force my legs apart. He snakes his hand down between my legs, his fingers brushing my inner thigh and touching my wetness.
I hold still. People are walking by, watching the other people in the rooms. A few people—both men and women—glance my way. A man rakes his eyes down to my lower body while a woman does the same.
A woman in stiletto heels and a spandex black outfit approaches us. She speaks in Russian, and Mikhail responds. He doesn’t remove his hand from my inner thigh. I want him to lift it higher and touch me, but I don’t dare move.
“She said you are stunning,” Mikhail explains to me.
“She only knows English?” the woman replies.
“American.”
The woman sneers slightly but then smiles. “Well, she’s still stunning. Do you share?”
“No.”
“Shame.” She looks me up and down. My face is beet red—I can tell from how hot it is. She smiles at me one more time before walking away.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“Sasha. She’s a dominatrix. She’s especially drawn to innocent women.” He bores his eyes into mine. “In fact, a lot of the people around here are drawn to innocence. They’re going to love watching me fuck your virginity away.”
I swallow hard.
Mikhail finally removes his hand from between my legs and walks me back into the main room. He sits down on a free couch and pulls me into his lap.
“How come we don’t do anything like that?” I ask, nodding at a woman who’s blindfolded and gagged.
“I know you wouldn’t like that. You want to trust me. I need you to trust me. And besides, I like being gentle with you.” He pulls me in closer, and I smile.
“Except for when you punished me.”
“Well, that was a punishment for a reason. When it comes to everything else, I only want you to experience pleasure.”
“But you were fine whipping Irina.”
“That’s because Irina craved pain. You don’t. Now, I want to get you ready for later. Pull your knees up.”
Doing that forces my dress to bunch up around my hips. My pink heels dig into the couch. I hold my breath as Mikhail spreads my legs wide and cups my vulva. He doesn’t move his hand again. Just rests it there.
I lean back against him, forcing my breath to even out. I can do this. I can do this.
Mikhail presses his cheek against mine. His breath tickles my skin.
A man walks up to him – he’s handsome but a little too lanky. Just like Sasha, this man speaks to Mikhail in Russian.
“English,” Mikhail says. “She’s American.”
“Oh, I love Americans,” the man says in a heavily accented voice. “So naive.”
“You can’t have her, Dimitri. She’s mine.”
“That’s too bad. I’d love to fuck her.”
“She’s a virgin, so no, you’re not going to do that.”
Dimitri sharply inhales. “A virgin?”
“I’m going to take her for the first time tonight. You can spread the word.”
“I will.” Dimitri winks down at me before walking away.
“How many people do you want to watch us?” I ask.
“Since we’ll be up there”—he nods at the main stage with the empty bed on it— “I expect a lot of people.”
“How come no one has used that?”
“Because I reserved it for us tonight. I didn’t want your first time to be on a used bed.”
“Oh,” I whisper. Mikhail begins to rub his palm up and down my folds. “Oh!” I gasp. He rubs me harder and harder, grinding his palm against me. My hips jerk up to meet his hand. I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling his strong body underneath me, giving me protection.
He inserts his finger into me and begins to thrust it in and out. “I need to get you ready,” he murmurs. He adds a second finger, stretching me more than ever before. I whimper from pain, but Mikhail doesn’t stop. He wants me ready, so he’ll get me ready.
People crowd around to watch us on the couch. I shut my eyes to ignore them. This is between Mikhail and me—not these random people.
Mikhail grabs my breast with his other hand and rolls my nipple around. I’m so sensitive; I think I might explode just from this simple touch. My breath comes out in pants. My hips have a mind of their own. He’s relentless with his fingers, pushing in and out of me.
I can feel the pressure building within my body, telling me I’m getting close. Right when I’m about to reach my edge, Mikhail removes his fingers and takes his hand away, leaving me high and dry.
“Oh,” I whine.
He chuckles as he helps me stand up. “It’s time, Sofiya.”
It’s time.
Mikhail ignores the people around us as he takes my hand and leads me to the stage. “I know many of you,” he tells the audience, “expect a lot when people take this stage. But tonight, I am going to take my wife’s virginity. She’ll experience both pain and pleasure from it.” The people in the crowd look hungry. Hungry for me to lose my innocence.
Mikhail turns to me, grips the end of my dress, and pulls it off. He leaves my shoes on. “Lie down on the bed.”
My entire body is shaking, but I do as he instructs. The mattress is soft under me, almost like I’m sinking into a cloud.
Mikhail strips his clothes off, including his shoes, and gets on the bed with me. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him naked. The sight of his erection scares me. That’s going inside me? I thought his two fingers were intense, but Mikhail is a lot bigger than his fingers.
I look up at him as he spreads my legs and settles between them. His erection brushes my entrance, making me gasp. He remains on his knees, gripping my thighs, as he stares down at me like he could eat me alive.
And I realize—he’s going to do just that to me for the first time.
“You are mine,” he growls right before he thrusts his hips forward and enters me. I cry out as the pain ricochets over my body. Mikhail doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated inside me. I’ve never felt this full before, and it hurts.
Tears seep from my eyes. Mikhail gently wipes them away but doesn’t pull out of me. I know he won’t spare my body anything tonight.
He slowly moves his hips around, and I hiss when it causes more pain. I glance out at the audience and see the lust in their eyes. They love that I’m in pain right now. I quickly look back at Mikhail.
“Move with me,” he orders, thrusting in and out of me. Every time he brings his length back into me, I cry out.
“It hurts,” I whine.
“It will get better. Move with me, Sofiya.” He grabs my hips and raises them to meet his. My hands reach out for him, but he’s too far away on his knees.
“I can’t.”
“You can. Focus on the pleasure, not the pain.”
I force my body to relax on the bed and do as he says. Slowly, the pain begins to recede, replaced with a subtle pleasure. My hips start to move, trying to match his pace, but he’s too rough.
Mikhail growls and grips my thighs tighter, pulling me in closer to him. When he does this, I can feel his erection sink deeper inside of me.
“Oh,” I cry out, this time feeling more pleasure.
“That’s it, baby,” he says in his deep, seductive voice. “You’re my good girl, so be my good girl.”
The first moan escapes me. I want to be his good girl so bad.
Mikhail thrusts into me roughly. It hurts still, but it also feels good. I can’t even explain it. I can only feel it.
My body has a mind of its own. I let myself get washed away in our lovemaking.
Mikhail suddenly pulls out of me and rolls me onto my side. Before I can wonder what he’s doing, he gets behind me and reenters me in one thrust. I gasp. He pulls my leg over his thigh, exposing me even more to the crowd.
“Look at them,” he says into my ear. “Watch how jealous they are that they’re not the ones fucking you right now.” He brings his hand down my body and finds my clit. I moan again when he begins rubbing it while also thrusting into me.
“Mikhail,” I gasp out.
“Tell me. Tell me you’re my good girl.”
“I am,” I cry. “I am your good girl.”
“Then come for me, baby. Come for me.” He gently bites my ear as his finger presses down on my nub.
And I explode.
I can’t even breathe as my body trembles and shudders from the pleasure.
Mikhail thrusts hard into me once more before groaning and coming inside me. I can feel his seed. I’m not on birth control. I know Mikhail will want me to have children. It’s always been expected of me, so I’m not sad about the thought. Actually, I don’t mind the idea of having children with Mikhail. I’m already his.
I slump against the bed, catching my breath. As Mikhail slowly eases out of me, I feel a trickle of wetness down my thigh and tense when I see blood.
“Don’t worry,” Mikhail says. “It was just because it was your first time, and I was a little rougher than I’d intended. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He scoops me into his arms and carries me off the stage and down the hallway into a private bedroom, where he lays me on the bed. I watch him grab a towel off the nightstand and dip it into a bowl of water. “Open your legs.”
I don’t hesitate.
I wince when he touches the towel to my vulva, cleaning up the blood.
“You’re mine now, Sofiya. How does it feel?” He rubs the towel up and down my folds. A spike of arousal hits me again, but my body is too spent to do anything about it.
“I feel … safe,” I admit.
The smile that crosses his face fills me with warmth. “Good.” He removes the towel and leans over me, giving me a gentle kiss. “Now, get some rest. Your body needs it. I worked it hard tonight.”
My eyes are fluttering shut without me even meaning to, and within seconds, sleep takes me.
I feel someone standing over me before I open my eyes.
When something cold touches my throat, I jerk awake and see Irina above me, holding a knife to my throat.
“You said I could have him,” she growls.
“Where’s Mikhail?”
“He’s not here right now. It’s just you and me.” She slaps my cheek. “Pay attention.”
I hold as still as I can. One small movement and I’ll be dead.
“I saw what happened tonight,” she continues. “He was mine first, but he tossed me aside like garbage for you.” She looks me up and down, but unlike the lustful looks I received tonight, Irina’s is full of derision. “You’re nothing special.”
“You think killing me will help you? Mikhail won’t be happy.”
“Mikhail doesn’t need to know I did it.”
I gasp when she presses the knife harder against my neck, drawing blood.
The door slams open, and Mikhail rushes into the room. Irina backs away, but she doesn’t make it far before Mikhail grabs her and forces the knife out of her hand.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarls, shaking her.
I sit up and cover my body with the covers. “Mikhail.”
“Are you ok?” he asks me without taking his eyes off Irina.
My fingers touch my neck and come away with blood. “I’ll be fine.” The cut isn’t too deep. I think I’d be dead if it were.
“You messed up, Irina. Sofiya, get dressed and come with me.”
Uncertainly, I get out of the bed and grab my dress that has been folded nicely on the nightstand table. I slip it on.
“Come on,” Mikhail growls, dragging Irina out of the room. I follow, but keeping up in my heels and sore body is hard. Mikhail leaves from the club's back exit, which leads into an alleyway. No one else is there. He tosses Irina onto the ground.
“Please,” Irina sobs. “You loved me once. Remember? We can have that again.”
“I never loved you, Irina.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a gun. I freeze, watching in horror as Mikhail points the gun at Irina’s head and shoots, killing her instantly. Her body slumps to the ground.
“Wha …” I trail off.
He pulls out his phone next and calls someone. He speaks in Russian, so I have no idea what he’s saying. He hangs up and grabs my hand. “Come on. We’re going home.”
“But … Irina …”
“Will be taken care of. I just called my best man for the job. Now, we need to leave.”
I slump forward, falling into his arms. Mikhail picks me up, carries me out of the alleyway, and returns to his car.
The image of Irina’s dead body lying on the ground with a bullet through her brain will haunt me forever.