Chapter 10 #4
“That’s right. Just like that.” His voice softens, almost approving. “My handprint on your ass pleases me so much, beautiful.”
I swallow hard, unable to stop the shiver that runs through me before his fingers slide through my wet heat, brushing where I crave him most.
My back arches instinctively, my body surrendering to the pleasure he offers.
It feels so fucking good—so damn good—that all my thoughts, my anger, and my pride dissolve into nothingness. Everything I’ve ever known or wanted could fit on the head of a needle.
“Does that feel good?” he asks, his voice low and probing, as though he genuinely wants to know and is cataloging this moment like he catalogs everything else.
“Yes,” I breathe out in a hushed whisper, my voice trembling.
He speeds up his movements, circling my clit with precision, smearing my wetness over every inch of me. My body bucks against his hand, craving more.
“And this?” he asks, his tone almost clinical as he shifts the rhythm.
“It’s… too much,” I gasp, the sensitivity overwhelming me.
He slows, adjusting his pace to something deliberate and steady, coaxing moans from my lips that I can’t suppress. The pleasure courses through me, taking over every rational thought I might have had.
“And then there’s the matter of you running out,” he says, his tone darkening as he slows his movements. “Leaving my home when you knew I wouldn’t allow it.”
Before I can respond, his hand presses firmly on the center of my back, pinning me in place.
Then his palm slaps hard against my ass—once, twice, three times in rapid succession, never in the same spot.
The sting is sharp, radiating heat through my skin.
It hurts like fuck, but the pain only intensifies the ache between my legs.
What is wrong with me?
“Spread your legs,” he growls, tapping the inside of each thigh with the back of his hand.
I obey, opening myself to him without hesitation. His fingers slide into me, thick and deliberate, stroking my most sensitive place. Oh fuck, yes, please.
“How does that feel, Anya?” he asks, his voice low and rough in my ear.
“So good.” I breathe, my voice a barely audible whisper.
“Tell me you’re going to obey me,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Yes,” I gasp, switching to Russian instinctively. “I’ll obey you.”
He rewards me with another perfect stroke of his fingers.
“Tell me you will never leave this house without my permission again,” he growls, plunging more fingers inside me now, his movements unrelenting and precise. My breath hitches, my muscles tightening as pleasure coils within me, ready to snap.
“I won’t,” I cry out. “I won’t leave again without your permission!”
“That’s what marrying into the Bratva means,” he says, his tone colder now. “You will obey me. I will accept nothing less.”
He removes his fingers before his hand comes down one final time, a sharp smack that makes me cry out.
“You’ve got a lot to learn, Anya. Is that clear, beautiful?”
The word “beautiful” sends a bloom of warmth through my chest.
My wife.
Beautiful.
“I asked if that was clear, Anya.”
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Crystal.”
“Good.” His tone softens, but the command remains.
I ache for him, no matter how hard I try to resist. “Because I want you to remember this night. I’m taking it easy on you, Anya.
You deserve my belt for what you did. If you ever do anything like that again, you won’t sit for a fucking week. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” I whisper again before I can stop myself. “Yes, sir.”
His growl of approval makes my body melt like heated caramel.
“Spread your legs, baby. Come on my hand,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl in my ear as he strokes me again, relentless and precise.
His fingers bring me higher and higher, finding my clit, spreading my slick heat, and when I finally shatter, it’s like lightning strikes through me, leaving my body trembling and boneless.
I’m dimly aware of him shifting behind me, of the sound of his low groans as he takes out his cock and fists it. My breath catches as I tense, thinking he’s going to take me. I watch, half-drunk, as he strokes and pumps his hardened cock, tracing a finger over my heated ass, between my legs.
With a groan, his hot seed splashes across my back, marking me in the most possessive, intimate way. He muffles another groan, and I feel a wicked smile curve my lips.
I did this to him. Me. I made the ice shatter.
The thought sends another ripple of pleasure through me as I collapse onto the bed, barely able to move.
“Lie on your belly,” he says quietly.
Too tired to argue, I obey. He cleans me off with his own soaking T-shirt, the act so filthy and possessive it sends a shiver down my spine.
My eyes grow heavy.
He bends down and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “Get some sleep, Anya. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”
The click of the door shutting behind him sounds as I close my eyes and begin to drift off to sleep, but a second later, my eyes fly open when I hear a series of clicks.
He didn’t just shut the door. He locked me in.