Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Catarina
First time on a motorcycle and I think I’m pregnant.
And maybe under different circumstances, I might actually like this. But right now, I can't get far enough away from Matysh.
Even if the scent of his musky, masculine cologne is intoxicating and causes my body to react in all the worst ways.
He slips his arm around my waist, holding me tightly to him as he cruises and maneuvers the motorcycle with his other. It’s honestly impressive.
I never wanted him to know about the baby. I was hoping I could get away and move all the way across the country if I had to.
But, of course, the one person I saw in the park had to be him.
Ugh. Clearly, having good luck is not my forte.
When we get back to the estate, there's a swarm of people on the lawn, watching with expressions I struggle to read. I barely know any of them, so I know whatever it is, it’s not a concern for my safety.
They're probably all just glad Matysh isn't going to have to waterboard any of them for information about where I went. Lucky them. Unlucky me.
Matysh pulls up in front of the house and parks. He slides off the bike and then grabs my hand and drags me inside, ignoring the audience on the lawn. I expect him to take me to my room, but he doesn't.
I should make him stop. But my heart is in my throat, and at least I’m fairly certain he won’t hurt me with his heir inside my womb. So, I just keep my mouth shut, as he leads me down a side hallway and into another room…
Which is somehow even more opulent than my own. I realize this is his bedroom.
They truly spared no expense making the space incredible. At the end of the room is a pair of beautiful French doors that lead out to a large balcony with a patio table and chairs overlooking the backyard. There's a beautiful view of the river and the city skyline beyond that.
And for a brief moment, I can almost imagine him sitting there and drinking coffee every morning, then I realize he's not the type of person to take comfort in anything. I doubt he's ever used the space.
Unless it’s to throw bodies over the side. Yikes.
Matysh lets me go as we reach the center of the room, and turns, still broody and silent, to lock the two of us inside.
My heart throbs in my temple. I spend the moment distracting myself from the entire situation by taking in the sight of the room.
His bed is the same size as mine, with antique wooden posts and a canopy covered with dark red velvet curtains.
The rest of the furniture in the room matches the bedpost and it's sparsely decorated with the exception of a few antiques that look like they might have sold for millions of dollars at auction.
The ceiling has the same gold flaked lacing as my own room. That's the only thing really familiar about it.
I force my eyes back to Matysh, noting that at least the door locks from the inside, not the outside. I can leave whenever I so choose.
Sort of.
He pulls his phone out shortly after and sends a message to someone. We sit in silence for a few moments before I hear footsteps outside the door.
Oh, lovely, someone is on guard duty.
“I'm never letting you out of my sight again,” Matysh glares at me, his eyes dark. “You’re a fucking disgrace for that stunt.”
“Thanks,” I force a smile, tipping my head to the side and letting my blonde hair fall down my shoulder. “How sweet of you.”
His jaw visibly tenses, and his lips part, but then he shakes head—as if he’s stopping himself. “While you're carrying my child, I need to make sure you're safe.” Matysh runs his fingers through his hair in a way that has me questioning him. “I won’t let you get away again.”
I shrug, bouncing my shoulders. “You'll never be able to stop me from trying, Matysh.”
He takes a step closer, his eyes still dark as they rake over me. “You should consider yourself lucky. A lot of women would be begging for more of me by now,” Matysh says, his lips curling into a hint of a smirk.
“You're so full of yourself,” I retort, letting out a dry laugh.
“Am I? I distinctly remember you enjoying my company,” Matysh shoots back, his broad shoulders appearing even broader.
My heart skips a beat in my chest, as he takes a small step toward me. I feel heat rushing to my cheeks under his gaze and I try my best to hide it, suppressing it as much as possible.
The last thing I need is for him to see how he affects me.
“Just because I appeared to enjoy it momentarily doesn’t mean I want it again,” I huff, pointing to my stomach. “We never have to do that again.”
“We can’t confirm anything until you see the doctor.” Matysh slowly approaches, his eyes scanning my body while he runs his tongue along his bottom lip.
He takes one final step toward me, grabbing my wrists with both of his hands and raising them over my head. I suck in a sharp breath.
“What are you doing?” I breathe out, my eyes leveling with his as his chin tips downward.
He dips down, brushing his nose against mine. “Serving your goddamn punishment for running, ogonyok (Little Flame).” With that, he releases me, and leaves me standing right where I am.
I could run. I could make a mad dash for the door.
But something deep in my core—and maybe an unhealthy level of curiosity—has me planted right where I am. I watch as Matysh walks to a heavy wooden black chest, lifts the lid, and then fishes something out of it.
“What is that?” I demand, my heart in my throat. I fold my arms over my chest, cautiously eyeing him as he approaches with a smaller black box.
A moment later, he opens it up and I nearly gasp at what's inside.
He pulls out a series of instruments I can only assume are for torture. Silky black rope, blindfolds, various clamps, and whips. He grabs the rope and a blindfold and walks over to me, his expression unmoving.
“No,” I tell him, taking a step away from him.
“Ah,” he chuckles, his voice darkening. “See, here’s the thing, you don’t get to tell me no.” His eyes burn into mine, and I swallow the fear. “You chose to run, you got caught. You pay the price.”
“That’s ridiculous.” My voice shakes as he corners me, blocking any kind of exit. “You can’t make me do this.”
“You can’t make me stop.” He looms over me, the rope dangling from his closed fist. “You can’t make me stop any more than I can make you stop trying to run away.”
I shake my head. “Totally different—”
Matysh cuts me off with his movement, grabbing my wrists, and beginning a series of expert knots that I don’t understand. I gasp as the fire of his touch works the rope tighter, jerking in my body in a way that should have warning sirens erupting in my mind…
But instead, I’m left clenching my thighs.
“You’re not serious about tying me to your bed. Are you?” I force out, attempting to sound a lot braver than I really feel.
Honestly, being vulnerable like this to him seems like a fucking nightmare.
“I'm going to show you what it's like to beg for me,” Matysh says in a low growl. “Since you seem to think that you’re incapable of it.”
My breath catches in my throat, and all of a sudden, my head is fuzzy and I can't think of a thing to say back to him. My heart beats rapidly and I'm almost positive my face is as red as a tomato. Matysh just smirks at me as he grabs my other arm and ties a knot around it.
The rope is surprisingly gentle against my skin, which makes me think Matysh picked this from whatever store he bought it at with great care. I mean, I assume there are stores for such things. Yet another area he’s simply way more experienced at than me.
“I’d rather just not run again than be some sort of sex doll for you,” I choke out, my arms now completely bound and unable to move. The mixture of emotions in my gut is confusing even to me.
I can’t tell if I’m truly scared, excited, or if it’s the guilt of being turned on by Matysh again.
And to make it all worse, I'm more than likely pregnant now. The whole goal of sleeping together to begin with was me getting pregnant. I could justify sleeping with him and enjoying it when it was a duty. It still felt like a betrayal to Mikhail, but I didn't have a choice.
This is betrayal, my inner voice screams at me.
“You need to quiet your mind,” Matysh’s voice comes out softly, making it jarring. It’s almost like he gives a shit. That’s too shocking to actually believe.
Before I can argue or question him, he sweeps me up into his arms and then carries me to the bed. He lowers me down onto the plush mattress and ties both of my arms to the posts as he restrains me.
He kneels between my legs, and then slowly begins to pull my pajama bottoms down. Every instinct in me is begging me to fight, but I just… I can’t. I can’t bring myself to fight him.
I swallow hard and gaze at him, already seeing how, without even touching me, his cock strains against his pants.
The memory of our last encounter—our only one up until now—draws some sick excitement out of me and the promise of feeling it again floods my pussy.
God, I hate that I want him.
Matysh stares at me in contemplation for a moment, then grabs a silky black blindfold and covers my eyes with it.
“Wait,” I say as darkness surrounds me. “I… I don’t… I don’t think—”
“Trust me, Little Flame. This will be the best fucking punishment you’ve ever felt,” Matysh grunts before his hands reach out for my breasts.
He pinches my nipples between his fingers and the sudden surprise of his touch only heightens the jolt of pleasure racing through my body.
“Oh, fuck.” I quickly bite my lip to keep from moaning while I somehow feel Matysh’s smirk.
“Isn’t it better when you can’t see me coming?” Matysh whispers, pulling his hand away from me.
For a few painful moments, I hold my breath in anticipation, waiting desperately for his touch—soft or not. However, after several beats pass, it doesn’t come, and I let out the breath.
Just as I do, his lips crash against my nipples.
“Matysh!” I can’t stop the shriek from piercing the silence in the room.