19. Dmitri
19
DMITRI
I can’t sleep. Instead, I watch Elanee as she lightly snores in my arms. She wears one of the white robes and insisted on wearing her tight Velcro slippers to sleep in. But in case she still felt cold, I dragged the comforter from inside onto the daybed to pull over her. I could’ve taken her to the bedroom, but know she prefers a breeze.
Having her exposed and vulnerable in my arms was working wonders on me in a sickening way.
I don’t know what he did to her, and I don’t want to be compared to him. But nor have I had the restraint previously to hold back my urges and primal needs for any other woman. Last night had been different, but around her, it always had been. Elanee was too fragile for someone like me. She’d only end up hating me if she understood my selfish tastes.
I keep staring at her bare wrist where the dazzled shackle should be as the sun rises. It’s only taken me twenty-four hours to consider forsaking the rest of her family because the thought of abandoning her, even at her own request, destroys me. He was my enemy. It was never a pain that she and I were meant to suffer together.
I’d already organized a few meetings upon my return to New York. I had to ensure I didn’t make a move out of desperation because it would also impact my mother and grandfather. But nor could I resist my urgency.
My phone buzzes, and I check the screen.
Layla: I’m still alive. And mission accomplished. I hooked the client up with her future beau and convinced her we deserved a decent paycheck. I might’ve missed my calling.
Me: Why are you only checking in at this hour of the morning?
Layla: Smirking Emoji
Layla: How’s she doing?
My grip tightens on Elanee. Mixed emotions stir. She seemed happy when I made her come. But everything else… Not good. How could she be? And why do I have the impression this is the most soundlessly she’s slept in a long time?
Me: She’s safe.
For now.
Elanee stirs in my arms and grumbles a complaint about the hard pillow. That pillow being my chest. I can’t stop stroking her smooth skin and inhaling her sweet vanilla musk scent. I was infatuated, having never thought the day would come when I’d have her in my arms.
“It’s creepy when you stare.” Her voice is gravelly, but she makes no attempt to open her eyes. I chuckle.
I go to kiss her, brushing my lips against hers, but retract. “Oh my gosh, your breath.”
Her eyes burst open. “Shut up!” She jerks back to check as she breathes into her hand, and I smirk.
“I was only kidding,” I say, pulling her back in for a kiss.
She pulls away as if punishing me but gives in with a chuckle. A genuine chuckle that I hadn’t heard since she’d returned to New York.
We both seem to notice it because she immediately freezes and tucks the blanket around herself self-consciously. It’s as if the light moment is immediately swallowed by the ominous shadow that looms over us—the mood for any type of kissing sucked in by it.
“Is Layla okay?” she asks, her voice is laced with guilt. I might’ve been able to get her here, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t still thinking of her sister and the possibilities of what could go wrong.
“Yes. I was just messaging her. I told you everything’s okay for this weekend.”
She lets out a shaky breath. “About last night…”
My stomach twists. She’s going to say it was a mistake. She despises me, after all. Or so she says. But the truth of being unworthy of her remained. Although I’d never dealt with rejection before, I knew that this woman was the only one I’d care about it coming from.
“Do you not think I’ll be able to satisfy you?” she asks. Is that really what plagues her mind?
“The problem, Cricket, is that once I have a taste, I know it will never be enough,” I confess. It shouldn’t be her doubting being able to pleasure me but the other way around.
I know without doubt she will be the only woman I will be possessive of. If I’m not already. And it’s a cruel reality to have to let her go once again. I’m fighting against every primal urge to protect her.
She bites her bottom lip and the act in itself has my cock twitching.
“And what are your… tastes?” she asks curiously. I shouldn’t want it. Shouldn’t act on it. She hasn’t gone into detail as to what’s been done to her, but on the tail end of my father, how can I suggest my tastes, which depend on pleasure that’s built around pain? Won’t that hurt her, scare her, trigger her?
Can I refrain even myself just to be with her?
“I like things… rough. My sexual partners are submissive, and our activities often involve chains and tools that will inflict pain,” I admit as I push back strands of her hair. She swallows, and I notice the conflict in her gaze and the tension in her body.
I’m too much for her. I’ll protect her, but I know the better man for her is one who can provide nurturing and healing, not one who wants to bend her over and break her for my own sexual pleasure.
I go to stand, for the first time in my life, somewhat ashamed of my particular tastes, but her nails dig into my arm. “Wait,” she says breathlessly. She swallows hard. “I don’t like pain very much.” And an unsaid story laces those words.
I stroke my thumb, tracing her cheekbone. “And I don’t want you to, Cricket. It’s my depravity, not yours.”
“But I want you.” Her jaw tightens. “As selfish as this is, it may be the only time I get the chance to have you. But if I don’t satisfy you…” She trails off, and it jerks me into action.
It breaks all restraint as I flip her onto her back and she startles at the movement. I might have particular tastes, but I could try my hardest to deny them for her. For now. But I will never deny her the full attention and demand that she deserves. If she didn’t believe the hold she had over me, then I had to show her.
Elanee had always been confident. Men had gravitated because of not only her looks but her wit and poise. Some of which ended up with broken hands. Okay, it was only one with a fractured hand, but he wanted to be a doctor, and that was a pretty big thing.
Am I a dick? Yes.
But did I try to woo her anymore? No.
The white robe fans around her shoulders and she nervously looks up at me. Then again, I suppose communication had never been our strong suit.
“Elanee, when I fuck, I’m rough, possessive, and dominant. I take, and I take until there’s nothing else to give. And with you… I would not stop.”
She swallows hard. “Do you want to take me now?”
My jaw tics and cock jerks at the innocent inquiry. “You’re playing dangerously, Elanee.”
It took fucking everything within me last night to refrain from taking from her. Instead, I let her use me. I can’t guarantee the same outcome when she looks at me like that today.
She is exasperated. “Just fuck me already, Dmitri. This whole nice guy thing doesn’t suit you.”
I blink. Her words are like a cold, harsh slap of reality. I’d been so caught up in what I thought she needed that I—
She pulls me in, her tongue dancing against mine.
Hungry.
Enticing.
Welcoming.
It lights the raging fire from last night, and every fiber of my being crosses between a need to protect and break her into submission to be mine. Her nails run through my hair, down my back, and bite into my shoulders. I hitch her leg up over my hip, desperate to feel her warm pussy. Needing to take everything from her and rebrand her as my own.
I undo her robe, barely noticing as she shimmies out of it and is hastily undoing my belt. I jump off the bed only for a few seconds. Enough to remove my pants entirely. Her eyes widen as she stares at my cock for the first time and licks her lips with anticipation. The way she stares at it fills me with masculine pride.
I never thought this would happen this weekend, but I was a liar if I said I wasn’t hoping and wanting it.
I stretch over her, and she finally looks up at me again, pulling me back down to kiss her. One of her hands wraps around my cock as she lines its tip with her sweet pussy.
Fuck, she’s beautiful and hungry.
I teasingly roll the tip of my cock back and forth over her wet folds. “Already so wet for me, sweetheart?” I toy.
Her eyes spring open and that devilish frustration twists. “Just fu—”
Her breath hitches as I slam into her to the hilt. I steal her next breath as I kiss her, my hand wanting to press firmly around her throat. But consciously, I rest my hand against her cheek and begin to roll into her. She seems stifled under my size, her little pussy tightly wound around my cock.
“Fuck, your cunt feels so good,” I grit.
She flinches under my coarse words but grabs me by the shoulders and kisses me, imploring me to continue. It’s not just sex she’s demanding, but also for intimacy, I realize. And as strange as it is to me to kiss a woman, I give her every bit of me, letting her bleed me dry if she demands it.
I pound into her, an echoing slap destroying each thrust. Fuck, I need her. I grab onto her tits, twisting. She arches into me, her moan encouraging me that she needs more.
I want to fill her up. Bruise her from the inside so she can only think of me for the coming days.
Tears spring in her eyes as she wraps her feet around my back. “Dmitri,” she pants.
I’m trying to refrain from my invasive but natural thoughts to brand her, flog her, and break her into submission. I don’t want to scare her, but I find this is enough for now. Strange as it is wholesome to be used by her.
Her nails dig in desperately, carving into my back. My cock jerks at her desperation, just as hungry to have its fill, surprisingly enjoying the pain she’s inflicting. And I’d only allow her to brand me in such a way.
I flip her and knock the air out of her lungs as I push her face into the bed and fuck her from behind.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
I’d wanted this for so many years.
Her moans torture me, tearing every fiber of my being like it’s the only sound I want to hear.
I rub my thumb around her asshole, and she tilts into me slightly.
“Has anyone touched this ass of yours?” I ask.
“No,” she rasps. And it darkens my mood. I want it. “You can.”
My restraint snaps.
I play with her asshole, edging my thumb in slowly, bit by bit, watching her response as I pound into her, making sure it doesn’t cause any kind of discomfort. Had I realized we’d been doing this, I would’ve provided lube. Instead, I hover over her and let a drop of spit land on my finger before hooking my thumb all the way in. She moans at the invasion and can’t hold herself up any longer as I continue to edge into her, picking up my pace once again. I can feel my cock gliding against my thumb, and she moans with awakened pleasure.
“Dmitri!” she screams.
Fuck.
I jerk into her, pumping into her as I lazily loosen my tight grip on the back of her neck, realizing only now how I’d handled her face down.
Her legs are trembling as her pussy milks me, her own orgasm crashing wave over wave.
She’s panting harshly into the mattress, slowly meeting me for slow strokes as we continue to milk one another until the very last drop.
I’d thought maybe I was too rough with her, even when I tried my hardest to refrain, but she seems… pleased.
That is until I notice the bruising grip I’d left on one of her arms. I hadn’t meant to… So precious… So easily breakable.
She smiles in relief and I can’t help but find my own arrogant smile.
She was made perfectly for my cock.
Utter bliss.
Mine.
I was willing to fight the Grim Reaper for her.
But I’d also have to fight against myself from taking her like that ever again because despite how perfectly her body was made for me, she was far more delicate than I’d ever imagined.