Chapter 17
DARIUS
Feeding her should not have turned me on, but my cock ached with need at the way her plump lips surrounded the spoon and her eyes got heavy as she savored every single morsel.
I couldn’t help but picture her lips wrapped as tightly around my cock.
What was that devilish little tongue doing?
Would it be just as wicked as she swallowed me?
The mere act of eating should not have been arousing, not only because it was something so simple, so domestic, but I had just come inside her tight little body. I should have been satisfied.
I was satisfied, but something about her shook my control and my discipline. Satisfaction wasn’t enough anymore. I didn’t want just a taste of her, I wanted all of her.
In less than twenty-four hours, this purple-haired American woman had turned me from a disciplined man into a fucking glutton.
But watching her lips part for the spoon, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment and resistance, stirred something dark and possessive inside of me.
The need to control, to own, to lose myself in something had only ever occurred with numbers. Spreadsheets, ledgers, and bank account balances. Those were my vices. Those pulled and held my attention faster and more completely than anything else…until her.
In just one day, my fascination was pulled away from cold logic over to this woman who was an agent of sensuality and chaos. I didn’t understand why she had this hold on me, and it was infuriating.
Everything about her was chaotic—messy rooms, tangled thoughts, rambling speeches, and her stubborn rebellion.
At first, I thought she was just fighting me, but as I looked around her apartment, I wondered if she was actually fighting against any control. It was a battle she was going to lose, but while combatting it, I risked her pulling me into that same madness.
I'd lectured my nephews about getting too soft over their women. Told them sentiment was a weakness our enemies would exploit. Men became careless, sloppy, vulnerable, from that attachment.
This wasn't the same thing.
Anna was leverage. A means to an end. The fact that I enjoyed breaking her, that I got hard watching her eat, that I'd spent an hour organizing her chaos like some domestic fool—none of that meant anything.
I was simply ensuring my asset was properly maintained. That was all.
That had to be all.
When I left her in the bathroom to clean up, I ran my hands through my hair several times, trying to regain some semblance of control. I looked around at the chaos that was her apartment and realized that there was no place for control in this mess.
If I wanted to control the girl, I had to have her in an environment that was ordered. So I got to work. She would need to eat, and one look in the refrigerator told me that was not happening.
I called down to one of my men and had him grab the ingredients for a simple, nutritious and hearty stew that would take practically no time to make. Then, I aimed my efforts at the chaos of her apartment.
I imposed order with an iron fist.
First, I straightened up piles and piles of sheet music, careful not to dislodge any of her sticky notes and to keep the pages in order. Then I set my sights on the clothes and linens that were strewn all over the place.
One of her T-shirts still had a dryer sheet clinging to it, so I knew everything was clean, just disorganized.
It took me only minutes to hang up or fold her clothes and put them away, and to stack the fresh towels in her laundry basket until I could get to the bathroom cabinet. Then, I started gathering the random sticky notes that were left all over the place.
Don’t forget to call the plumber about the billing issues.
Ask Edith about creating a discount for music theory and history majors.
Send the red dress to the tailor and see about taking it in at the waist.
So many random scraps of paper with no rhyme or reason to where they were stuck. So I stacked them all and placed them next to the sheet music.
When my men got back with the groceries, I sent them away then started the stew, chopping the vegetables and browning the meat, which took a few minutes. Once it was going, I straightened up her kitchen. Washed the dishes I had used, put them away, then cleared the clutter off the counters.
Her pots and pans were of decent quality but looked brand new. I had a feeling they weren’t new at all, but were just not being used.
My little songbird hadn’t been taking care of herself, surviving off of takeout and God only knew what else.
Anyone else and I would take all of this as signs they were lazy, but not her. Something about her led me to think it had less to do with laziness and more to do with not knowing how to take care of herself.
Had no one ever taken care of her?
By the time she had gotten out of the shower, I had restored order.
The stew was simmering, and the apartment was neat. It gave me back the illusion of control and structure. And I needed it like oxygen.
Anna finished half of the stew before she started fighting me again.
“I can feed myself,” she argued. “You didn’t need to do this, and you didn’t need to straighten my apartment. You have no right.”
I had every right. I had every right because I took it.
She had no idea how much I really needed to do it all.
But fine, if she wanted to be a brat, that was how I would treat her.
I said nothing. I got to my feet and without warning, I lifted her in my arms and carried her to the bedroom, blanket and all.
“Put me down,” she argued, but she didn’t fight; she didn’t squirm.
I wasn’t sure if it was because her body accepted my control, or if the blanket she was cocooned in was wrapped too tightly for her to fight.
“I swear to God if you don’t fucking put me down, I’m going to—”
“What?” I raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “What exactly are you going to do to me, maya soloveyka?”
Her face flushed that same pink again. Now that she knew for sure what I called her, I couldn’t tell if she liked it or was embarrassed by the reminder that I’d heard her sing.
“Put me the fuck down,” she said between clenched teeth, trying in vain to regain some authority, some control.
I understood the impulse, but unfortunately for her, only one of us could have power, and it would not be her.
I dropped her unceremoniously onto her bed. She bounced once on the mattress as I pulled the blanket from her body. Leaving her in nothing but a towel and those diamonds.
I could take her again, bury myself in that sweet cunt, give her another lesson in obedience. Tonight would be easier with a fresh reminder of who owned her. She looked so damn tempting, clinging to the towel that barely covered the tops of her honed thighs and her perky tits.
Even without makeup, she was simply beautiful.
But we did not have time.
If I took her again, it wasn’t going to be the quick fuck that we had in the bathroom. No, I wanted more. I wanted to take my time taking her apart piece by piece. Learning every curve and cataloging every single way she responded to my touch.
I reached for the towel, and she clung to it with desperate fingers.
“No,” she whined.
“Let go,” I demanded.
She tried to hang on to it until I put one hand on her throat, pinning her to the mattress, and ripped it away with the other. Leaving her entirely bare for me, wearing only the glittering diamonds around her neck.
“We do not have time for you to act like a brat. Get dressed.” I nodded toward the black garment bag that now hung on the back of her door.
“No.” She glared at me with defiance in her eyes.
“Put it on,” I demanded again.
“I said no. You can’t make me go anywhere with you.”
“We’ll see about that.” I took a seat on the edge of the bed next to her. She sat up, getting on her knees, ready to jump off the bed, but was stymied when I grabbed her by the back of her neck and pulled her back down, this time over my lap.
“What are you doing? Get off of me,” she demanded, her legs kicking out in her struggle against my hold.
“I told you I would punish you,” I said, and spanked her ass for real this time. This wasn’t a short, sharp sting that teased. This was meant to teach a lesson. I wanted her to feel her punishment every time she sat down, and to have a constant ache to remind her who she belonged to.
She stopped fighting with the first hard slam of my hand across her perfect ass.
Every strike to her skin was firm and deliberate, forcing her to submit.
“You will learn obedience,” I said between slaps. “This is not a negotiation. I own you.”
She said nothing, her body going rigid in my lap. The muscles in her back and thighs were tight, and she still flinched with every single smack.
“Say it,” I demanded.
She sniffled but said nothing.
So the spanking continued even after her ass was a bright fiery red, and heat radiated from the delicate skin. I could feel her shoulders shaking with sobs, but I didn’t let up. Not until she obeyed.
“Say it,” I yelled.
She whimpered, and then the words came slowly. “You own me.”
Another fast, hard spank across both of her ass cheeks. She cried out.
“Do it right. I will not accept half measures.”
“You own me, sir.”
I knew without having to touch her that her pussy was dripping. Just as I knew her cheeks were wet with tears. My cock ached for her, but if I was demanding obedience from her, then I needed to have an iron grip on my self-control as well.
I ran my hand over the abused skin, soothing it, massaging away the sting. “Good girl.”
She whimpered as her ass rose, pressing into my palm. Her face was buried in the blanket that had been wrapped around her, and her shoulders were shaking, but her thighs separated, and I could see how wet she was. How much she wanted to be rewarded for taking her punishment.
I ran my finger through her slit, gathering the wetness and spreading it over her folds.
“I could finger your pussy right here. I could make you come while screaming my name. Or maybe I should just put you on your knees and let you show me how good you can be. You take my cock so well in your cunt, I’m sure you’re eager for a chance to prove your mouth is just as talented.”
She whimpered again, her thighs opening further, giving me more access.
“Or maybe I should take this sweet little ass. Tell me, have you ever been fucked here?” My fingers trailed her tight, pleated hole, spreading more of her juices. A shiver ran up her spine as goosebumps exploded over her ass. She was so fucking responsive it was addictive.
She shook her head under the blanket.
I slapped her ass again hard, the sound echoing in the room along with her yelp.
“Answer me.”
“No, no, sir. No one has ever touched me...there.”
“Good.” I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back until she was kneeling on the floor in front of me. Her gray eyes looked almost silver in the low light that caught her tears. They seemed to reflect it in the same way the necklace did.
Her lips were dark red; her breasts shook with every deep breath she took in an attempt to regain her composure.
She was chaos. She tempted me away from controlled order. Maya soloveyka had a power over me. I wanted to lose myself, to let go of my discipline and give in to her soft body, to spend all of my time finding new ways to make her come.
If I were a lesser man, I’d give it to her, but unfortunately for her, my composed discipline was forged in the fire that was my family name.
I cupped her jaw with one hand, running my thumb over her lips and then pressing it inside her mouth, letting her suck on it. Her mouth was hot and velvety, and she took it so fucking perfectly.
“Do you want to be my good girl?”
She nodded, her eyes still glassy as they stared up at me.
I gripped her jaw harder, pinching her tongue down as I pulled her to her feet. “Then get dressed. Or I will drag you to that gala naked by your fucking hair.”