13. Katarina
KATARINA
I enter Erik's room, my heart thundering against my ribs. The dim lighting casts shadows across his face, making his dark eyes even more intense. My skin tingles when his fingertips brush against my arm, guiding me toward his bed.
“Tell me what you want,” Erik's voice rumbles. “How do you need this?”
Heat floods my cheeks. The words stick in my throat, warring with my pride. I've never admitted this to anyone before. “I...” My voice wavers.
“Say it.” His command sends a shiver down my spine.
I close my eyes, unable to meet his gaze as I whisper the truth. “I like it when you're rough with me.” The admission burns on my tongue, shame, and desire tangling in my chest.
Erik's groan vibrates through me. His teeth graze my bottom lip before he captures it between them, the sharp pain mingling with pleasure as he sucks gently. My fingers curl into his shirt, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.
I'm losing myself in him. Every rational thought screams at me to stop, but my body betrays me, arching into his touch. The mighty Katarina Lebedev, brought low by an Ivanov's kiss. My father would kill us both if he knew.
Erik's hands tangle in my hair, angling my head back. His breath fans hot against my throat. “I'll give you exactly what you need.”
When his fingers find the hem of my shirt, his touch is both gentle and commanding.
I shiver as the fabric skims over my head, leaving me bare before him.
He reaches for the button on my pants, slowly sliding the zipper down.
His eyes, dark and hooded, rake over me, taking in every inch of exposed skin.
My heart is hammering in my chest as he pushes me back onto the bed.
I feel the cold metal of the handcuffs as he secures my wrists above my head.
The steel bites into my skin, and I gasp from the rush of anticipation rather than discomfort.
I'm utterly vulnerable, laid out like a sacrifice before him.
Erik retrieves a blindfold from his nightstand, pausing to meet my gaze. “Do you trust me?” he asks.
The answer should be hell no. A Lebedev can't trust an Ivanov. Especially not one who is holding her captive, and yet, I nod, my throat too tight for words. He secures the blindfold, plunging me into darkness. The loss of sight heightens my other senses, and I strain to hear his slightest movement.
The first strike of the flogger against my skin steals the oxygen from my lungs.
The burn is a delicious sting that makes me arch my back, craving more.
The next strikes come faster, with a rhythm that appears to sync with my heartbeat.
My body sings with sensation, each lash awakening nerves I never knew existed.
I cry out, pleasure and pain mingling as the flogger kisses my skin. Erik's voice, low and rough, fills my ear. “You like that, don't you, Katarina?” he murmurs. “You like being mine, tied up and at my mercy.”
My head falls back against the pillow, and I moan my response, too lost in the sensations to form coherent words.
I feel his fingers, calloused and sure, trailing over the tender skin he's marked.
He knows exactly how to play me, pushing me to the edge and pulling back, drawing out my torment deliciously.
The flogger falls away, and his mouth takes its place, lips and tongue soothing the burning paths he has carved into my body.
I sigh, relaxing into the bed as his mouth devours me, claiming every inch of exposed skin.
I'm boneless, pliant in his hands, and I know without seeing that he's smiling that wolfish smile.
Erik's mouth moves lower, and I know he can sense my pulse quickening. His tongue teases, tasting, tracing patterns over my oversensitive skin.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice hitching as his breath ghosts over me.
But he just chuckles, the vibrations resonating through me. “Please, what, Katarina?”
I feel him smirk against my skin, and I buck my hips against his mouth. “Please, Erik,” I beg. “Touch me.”
He chuckles again, the sound sending shivers up my spine. “Impatient?” His fingers glide over my thighs, avoiding the center of my need. “We have all night.”
“No,” I moan, writhing under his touch. “I can't take it...” My voice trails off as he finally, finally gives me what I crave.
His mouth is hot and wet, his tongue relentless as it dances over me. I'm on the edge, teetering, but he pulls back, denying me release.
“Please,” I whisper again, my voice hoarse. “Let me come.”
“Not yet,” he murmurs. “I want you desperate.”
And he keeps his word. His mouth and fingers tease me relentlessly, bringing me to the brink time and again, only to pull back and leave me gasping into the void. The pleasure-pain blurs my senses, and I'm floating, every nerve alight, burning for release.
I feel his fingers slip inside me, filling me, his thumb finding that spot that makes my vision spark with white-hot need. “Erik,” I sob, my body bowing off the bed, my wrists straining against the cuffs. “I'm going to come.”
But even as the words leave my mouth, he withdraws, his tongue lapping at my juices. “Not yet,” he growls. “Not until I say so.”
I whimper, my body shaking with the effort of holding back. My muscles clench, begging for release.
“Please,” I whisper again, my voice raw, my throat dry. “Erik, please.”
“Beg me,” he commands, his voice hard. “Beg me to let you come.”
Pride wars with my need, but in the end, there's no contest. “Please, Erik,” I beg. “Let me come. I need to come.”
He sucks hard on my clit, his fingers pumping inside me. “Come for me then,” he growls. “Come all over my fingers.”
His words send me hurtling over the edge, and I scream as the orgasm rips through me. White-hot pleasure explodes behind my eyes, my body convulsing as wave after wave washes over me. I'm dimly aware of Erik's murmurs, his hands stroking my hair and my back, gently bringing me back down to earth.
As the fog of pleasure clears, reality comes rushing back. I'm lying in Erik Ivanov's bed, naked, marked by his mouth and hands. I'm his captive, his enemy. And yet, in this moment, I feel painfully, beautifully alive.
I'm still floating on the clouds when I feel him, hard and thick, pressing against me. I arch my back, seeking more contact, moaning as he fills me in one smooth stroke. It's too much, too soon, and I cry out, my body overwhelmed.
“Shh, you'll wake the whole house.” His voice is a rough whisper in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. But he doesn't stop; he can't stop now. He starts moving, his hips snapping as he pulls out and thrusts back in, claiming me with a rhythm that leaves me breathless.
It’s almost impossible to catch my breath, my body humming from my release. “Erik,” I moan. “Please, I can't...”
He doesn't slow down; instead, he reaches between us, his fingers finding my swollen clit. “Come for me again,” he growls. “Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”
His rough words, the pleasure he's giving, it's too much. My walls clench around him, and I explode, screaming as I come apart at the seams. I'm squirming, my hips bucking off the bed as he continues to thrust, his fingers driving me insane.
“That's it, baby,” he groans, his voice hoarse. “Squirt all over my cock. You're so fucking tight, my filthy little slut.”
I can feel my face flushing. I'm drowning in sensation, and I come again, my arousal coating his cock.
Erik swears, his hips stuttering as he loses control. “Fuck, you're going to make me come,” he grits out. “Take it, take my cock, you filthy Lebedev whore.”
His words spark something dark within me, something that revels in degradation. I want to feel him lose control, to know that I've reduced him to this: a man driven wild by need.
He's thrusting erratically now, chasing his release. “You like it when I call you a slut and whore, don't you?” he pants. “You like being tied up and fucked by an Ivanov.”
I nod frantically, my body on fire. “Yes, yes, please,” I beg, my voice thick with need.
“Say it,” he demands, his voice harsh. “Tell me what you are.”
“I'm a slut. I'm your slut,” I cry out, the words tearing from my throat. “Please, Erik, please let me come again.”
“Come then,” he grunts, slamming into me. “Come on my cock, my beautiful, brilliant slut.”
His command pushes me over the edge, and I shatter, my body convulsing as pleasure devastates me. I feel Erik stiffen, his cock pulsing as he finds his release, his hot seed filling me. He groans my name, his body shaking as he spills himself into me, his fingers bruising my hips as he holds on.
We're both panting, our hearts hammering in our chests. Erik reaches up, gently pulling the blindfold away, and meets my eyes. “Katarina,” he breathes, his voice filled with wonder, as if he's seeing me for the first time.
Our gazes lock, an unspoken understanding passing between us. At this moment, we're not enemies. We're just two people who have found solace in each other's arms, a brief respite from the cold, cruel world outside.
I melt into Erik's strong arms as he cradles me against his chest. His fingers trace gentle patterns across my sensitized skin, soothing the marks he left during our passionate encounter. His lips brush my temple, and the kiss is so different from the demanding kisses we shared earlier.
“Are you alright?” His voice rumbles through his chest where my head rests.
“Mmm.” I’ve lost the ability to form proper words, still floating in that blissful space between pleasure and reality.
Erik's hand smooths down my back, and he pulls the soft blanket over us both. The tenderness makes my heart ache. This isn't the brutal Ivanov enforcer everyone fears—this is just Erik holding me like I'm precious.
His lips find my forehead again, trailing down to my cheek. “You're trembling.”
I am, but not from cold or fear. Every brush of his skin against mine sends little sparks through my body. The heat of him wrapped around me, the masculine scent of his skin—it's intoxicating. My pussy responds immediately. Desire coils through me again despite how thoroughly he just claimed me.
Erik's breath hitches as I press closer, seeking more contact. His arms tighten around me protectively, possessively. I trail my fingers across his chest, feeling his heart rate pick up.
“Katarina.” My name is a warning and a prayer on his lips.
I need more of him. My lips find his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. His whole body tenses, and I know he feels this magnetic pull between us that refuses to be denied, too.