Chapter 12
Anya
I’ve never had a man put his head between my legs like this before.
Once, I had a boyfriend in college who asked me if I wanted him to do it, but he had looked like he was sniffing at sour milk while asking. I had sputtered and been so uncomfortable with the entire idea, I just chuffed and shrugged it off like it was nothing.
I had instantly formed the opinion that it was an inherently disgusting act that men hated. My standards for lovers based on past experiences alone isn’t exactly that high. He was the only man that I had dated for a long time. He was the only man that I’ve ever slept with. I can’t admit that to Nikolai. I’m glad that he allowed me to change the subject—well, rather he chose to change the subject.
Nikolai pins my thighs to the floor with his hands. The stretch of him opening me up for him pulls in my inner thighs. It”s completely obscured by the sensations he”s inducing in me. My core feels like it”s on fire. His fingers pumping in and out of me are more pleasurable than the last man I had sex with.
I don’t want him to stop this time. I don’t want him to pull away. I’m torn. My body is betraying my sense of self and yet I don’t want to say the things that he’s wanting me to. I don’t want to surrender, to let him win. I don’t want him to think that he owns me, because I am my own person. I feel like if I allow myself to say the things that he’s asking me to, then a part of me will be lost. I have to imagine that I will be free again someday, whenever he’s done using me. When that day comes, I want to be able to reflect on this nightmare and tell myself that I was always in here, that he never really got to me.
But this hot and cold,give and take,is having an effect on me.
I don’t think I hate this.
At least I didn’t hate it until he lifts his head from his feast. Nikolai runs his hand down the lower half of his face, wiping away the mess I’ve made of his skin, and fixes me to the spot with his dark stare. My breathing is ragged. I have lost all control of most of the muscles in my legs, holding them at an awkward bend on either side of his face. I bite down on my lip to keep from asking him why he stopped, or worse, begging him to continue. I discovered yesterday that begging will not help me.
“Has a man ever done this for you before?” he says, his voice rumbling underneath my skin like a current. I can feel my face growing hot. The line of perspiration on my forehead is now not only because of how close I was just moments ago. If only he would dip his head lower just one more time. Just a moment longer and I could be there, I could get what I wanted.
“I asked you a question, sweetheart, you already know what happens when you keep me waiting,” he trails his tongue down the skin where my thigh meets my hip and then bites me. His teeth close over the skin and I jolt.
“No!” I yelp, using my elbows against the floor to try to push away from him, but he holds me in place.
“No?” he lifts a brow and I have the feeling that I’ve done something wrong, again.
Fear prickles my skin as I watch him, unsure of what I’m supposed to say. Finally, I can hold my tongue no longer. “What?!”
His amused grin turns feral. “Watch your tongue, sweetheart, or I will be inclined to watch mine,” he dips his head lower, holding eye contact with me as he swirls his tongue over my core, making a very obvious point. “I believe what you meant to say was ‘no, sir’. Wasn’t it, sweetheart?”
My nose twitches in anger and my teeth clench together. “No.” I can feel the heat of him against my wet skin, each exhale brushes warm air over my skin. So close, yet already the tingles of pleasure as slowly starting to ebb away. “Sir,” I spit as if my mouth was full of vinegar.
The reward is instantaneous. I’m gifted with another minute of worship by his talented tongue, before he stops again. My mind is barely capable of rational thought at this point.
“How many men have you been with before me?”
I get it. He’s going to stop unless I answer him. He’s making me choose. My pride and personal information, or my physical pleasure. I chew on the inside of my cheek for just a moment, staring at the man hovering just inches above my most intimate places.
“One.” Nikolai moves like he’s going to bite me again. “Sir!” I blurt out quickly and I have another minute of pleasure. I keep getting closer, and closer, and then he pulls me out of it just like that.
“Was he good in bed? Did he ever make you cum?”
I shake my head.
He flashes his teeth.
“Have you ever cum before? Just by yourself? Writhing around in your bed, fingers tucked between your legs, exploring your body or attempting to?”
I turn away from him, and stare at the wall. Suddenly I feel like crying. I don’t know if it’s the debasement or the humiliation, but I can’t take it. I won’t be ashamed for touching myself. It was certainly better than anything anybody else had ever given me.
Nikolai clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That’s the problem with you Americans—you’re all so repressed. Too ashamed because you think it’s dirty or wrong to embrace yourselves as sexual creatures.” I feel like he’s chastising me as he crawls up my body. “Even somebody who has traveled as much as you have, you have not thought to yourself to live a little?” he pushes his fingers further inside of my body and I moan. My hands move to his shoulders, attempting to keep him away from me but I’m failing. “A pretty little thing like you should be stuffed full at every opportunity... but you deny yourself? You deny me? Why?”
It’s not like he’s not saying anything that I don’t already know. My college boyfriend accused me of being a prude because I didn’t like having sex with him. I figured that was part of the reason that he broke up with me. In truth, it just didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel like this.
“Your captivity can be fun for both of us if you just stop pretending you don’t get wet at the sight of me. You and I both already know how badly you want me to fuck you... you might as well surrender to it.”
I bite down on my bottom lip and stare at the far wall. I don’t want that. I don’t.
I… I don’t.
I shake my head, and blink back the tears. What if he’s right? What if I could make the best of it? Isn’t that what I was trying to do earlier? He’s a brute, and I don’t have to worry about whether he likes it or not. Men are always using women for their bodies, why can’t I do the same thing?
“That’s alright, sweetheart, you can pretend that you don’t want it. Beg, cry, scream, but I can feel you.” He forces a third finger inside of me, rotating his hand to rub his thumb over my clit and I’m frozen. My arms stop pushing against him, my eyes go wide at the sensation as he slowly slides his fingers in and out. “I can feel how close you are, your tight, wet cunt wants me to fuck it until you can’t think.”
It’s not like it has to mean anything. Right? He’s probably going to do it anyway. It can just be sex. Right?
All I know is that he causes goosebumps to erupt over my whole body with nearly every touch, good or bad.
“Let yourself have this, give yourself to me, Anya, these might be your last days on this earth anyway.”
I don’t know if that’s the truth or a lie, but I suppose that neither really matters. I swallow nervously, and force my eyes back to his. The tension in my arms softens, and I hesitantly slide my hands over the soft fabric of his shirt and up over his shoulders. The soft fabric rustles under my small hands. I slowly feel up the back of his neck until my hands push up into his hair, which is surprisingly soft.
Nikolai clucks his tongue at me again. “Tch, where is your fire? The fight?”
Something inside of me sparks to the challenge, overcoming the nerves and fear. My gaze narrows. I give him what he wants, and he says it’s not enough? That is the second time that I’ve done exactly what he wanted, and he mocks me for it, implies that it isn’t good enough.
With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he pulls his fingers from me and moves like he’s going to pull away from me.
No. He’s not going to do this to me for a second time. “Hey!” I sit up, but my legs feel like cooked noodles when I try to stand and follow after him. “You say that you’re just going to do what you want. But if I don’t beg you and comply, you’re not man enough to do it?!”
The words leave my mouth before I can really be aware of just what I’m saying. I’m practically telling him to force himself on me, all the while insulting his manhood. Clearly, I’m a glutton for punishment now. My eyes widen in fear as he rounds back toward me, intention clear. I try to scramble toward the desk because I can’t stand, but I can’t take it back either.
“Y-you say that you want me to fight, but you also seem to want me to stroke your tiny, frail little ego so that you can get it up. You can’t have it both ways!”
Nikolai bends and grabs the front of my shirt, balling it into a fist as he uses it to lift me clear up and off the ground. The fabric bites into my skin as he drops me heavily on his desk. I hiss in pain as my angry, bruised ass slaps against the wood, and I think I’m also sitting on a pen or two.
He places his hands in the neck of my shirt and splits the fabric clear down the middle, forcing it off my body with a smirk. I try to cover my slight chest but he grabs my arm and wrenches it away.
It”s easier this way. Allowing my body to move without thought, only reacting. My blood is like lightning, rushing through me like an electric current. I slap his arm with my free hand as he undoes the button and zipper on my shirt and forces the fabric up and over my narrow shoulders until it can catch right around my wrists, where he twists and wraps fabric until I can”t move my hands.
Nikolai smirks at me. He grabs hold of my impromptu restraint and pulls me off of the desk, spins me around and shoves me down over the desk. I hear a rustle of fabric behind me as he lifts one of my thighs up, my knee resting on the desk, he grabs a handful of my bare ass, forcing my hips to angle upward, the leg bearing all of my weight lifting me up onto my tiptoes.
There is no preamble. One minute I’m trying to find a way to force myself upward on the desk and to push him away from me with my hips, and the next I feel the head of his cock at my entrance. He shoves inside of me hard and fast enough to knock the breath from my lungs. A nearly inhuman sound leaves me as I stretch around him to fit. The desk groans in protest at his next thrust, moving the furniture forward an inch. My mind blanks and there is nothing but him, the hand keeping my ass at just the right angle, his other pressing into the space between my shoulders to keep me down, holding me there. The sound of our mixed, ragged breathing and the desk scraping against the floor with every powerful thrust. It’s not a rhythmic movement, not by any stretch. I feel more present than I think I’ve ever felt before.
I get my hands up underneath my chest and flip my hair over my shoulder as I turn to look at him. It’s an impressive sight, his shirt unbuttoned enough that I can see parts of his powerful chest, the tops of his strong thighs as he drives into me—the sounds of our bodies joining together. But most importantly, I think it”s the look of unbridled lust blending into pleasure on his face, unguarded and handsome. I run my tongue over my teeth and lift my eyes to his; we connect for only a moment. “That’s the best that you’ve got?” I taunt, and he smirks. He lifts a hand off of my ass and brings it back down painfully.
“Oh? Not hard enough for you?”
I don’t think I could handle it any harder. Each thrust is painful, but I love it.
Nikolai slides his hand up my back and into my hair, fisting it at the base of my skull and forcing my torso upward, while bringing his other hand around the front of my neck, holding tightly. I can feel the flow of oxygen lessening, but I can’t stop looking at him. I’m transfixed, locked into his dark gaze as he fucks me.
“Harder,” I gasp, hardly even audible. He leans in closer to me, and doubles the intensity. My eyes are going to roll into the back of my head. Pleasure runs rampant through me and then his lips connect with mine. I can’t respond for a moment, but then my lips kiss him back. He groans into my mouth and pulls out of me only long enough to flip me around, my ass barely on the desk before he slams back into me.
I lift my bound hands up and over his head, my legs wrapping around his hips and he kisses me. I always heard people talking about sparks but I had always thought that it was only an expression before now, I never thought that it was real but here, with Nikolai, I could explode. My fingers push up into his hair, weaving into the strands and holding his head to my own. He deepens the kiss, and we find a rhythm together. Every muscle in my body feels like it’s on fire, like live wires have touched me. Every groan that bleeds from his lips into mine feels like triumph. Emboldened by his touch and the fire inside of me, my teeth capture his bottom lip, pulling and I swear he nearly comes apart. His hands shift and he grabs my neck, holding tightly.
“Careful, sweetheart,” Nikolai warns huskily, and satisfaction unfurls in my core. I rake my fingernails all through his scalp, and hold him closer. I’m so close—so close.
Nikolai claims me, inside and out, his tongue massaging mine as his hips start to shift to an erratic rhythm. I can feel myself clenching around him, my head falls back in sensation and he drops his lips to my neck as my climax builds and builds. He captures my nipple in his mouth, biting down hard on the flesh and I’m undone. I cry out in pleasure to the background of Nikolai’s self-satisfied chuckle but he’s not done with me yet. His hand drops between our hips and finds my clit, rubbing fast circles around the overly sensitive bundle of nerves and my cry cuts off short. I’m catapulted into new heights with an orgasm that seems to never end.
His hips shunt forward into me, and he groans as I milk the orgasm out of him, the heat of him filling me as he cums.
His hips slow, and then stop completely. The vestiges of my orgasm fade, leaving me warm and heavy. Nikolai lifts my arms up and over his head, slipping out of me slowly and then he drops me.
I fall heavily to the floor, my body in a heap as he steps over me. He leaves, wordless as I bonelessly collapse on the ground. The door opens, he doesn’t even bother to close it as he leaves me in the rapidly souring afterglow of what I’ve just done.