24. Paige
Paige
My brain shorts out. “What?”
Adding shock to my current condition seems like a really bad plan, but here we are.
“You heard me.” He cups the back of my head, forcing me to gaze up at him. “Exposure therapy with positive reinforcement.”
Despite the situation, heat floods my body.
“That’s… I can’t…” Except I’m already picturing this game. Bizarrely, the image I conjure up chases away the memories. “If you’re going to be naked, then I’d be distracted, and that’s dangerous with guns—”
“Not my clothes, Paige.” His thumb strokes along my jaw. “I’m talking about yours.”
Oh.
Oh.
The horror and shock start to fade as I visualize what he’s suggesting.
So maybe he’s not wrong.
We’re fairly isolated here, but not invisible. Anyone could drive by and see us. I glance around.
A week ago, the thought would’ve mortified me.
Now, a pulse of pure desire races straight between my legs. My nipples are already hardening, and not from the cold.
He places the gun in my hands and waits with a silent but clear message. I choose what happens next.
It’s cold and heavy, a monster waiting to bite me. But I breathe in the chilly October air, lift the weapon, and point at the targets.
The edge of metal still reminds me of a knife as I slide my finger into the trigger guard.
I squeeze.
Same as last time, the kick slams through my arms.
Rather than stopping at my shoulders, the jolt vibrates down my spine, pools low in my belly, and pulses between my thighs. Fear and arousal tangle so tightly, I can’t tell them apart anymore.
One thing’s for sure, though. I’m not a teenager, and the bad boy I’m with isn’t an inexperienced child.
“Good.” Vanya’s warm approval strokes my ear while his chest presses into my back. “That’s my girl.”
The praise hits like a drug, causing every nerve to spark and tingle.
His hands slide to my shoulders, then down my arms. He peels the leather jacket off, guiding my arms out of the sleeves one at a time, shifting the gun from hand to hand in the process. The chilly air nips at my skin through the thin waffle-knit shirt.
At the soft, maddening caress of his fingertips, goosebumps erupt.
“Feet shoulder-width apart.” He kicks my left foot. “Your stance was off. That’s why the recoil knocked you around. Now bend this knee and lean forward slightly. Push the gun before it pushes you.”
I follow his instructions as if I really have a choice when he’s already moving my body however he wants.
Which also turns me on even more.
Damn.
He’s so close, I can feel the heat of him against my back. “Okay, look at your target. Not just the tree. The bull’s-eye.”
I squint at the paper target and, for the first time, spot the red rings. My hands have gotten steadier. Or maybe I’m just too aroused to care about the shaking.
Whatever the case may be, it’s working.
I fire again.
I’m still in this backyard. Not dragged back to the island.
This is here. Now.
Vanya’s hands find my waist, his thumbs stroking tiny circles through my shirt.
“Much better.” He grabs the hem and pulls it up. I have to set the gun down and raise my arms for a few seconds for him to take my shirt off.
Cold air and Vanya’s gaze graze my stomach and black bra.
Vanya spins me and lifts my arms again. “Keep going.”
I do. I miss the target entirely, but the bullet still hits the tree.
He crouches behind me, his fingers on my ankles. “Step out.”
I lift and rest a foot on his thigh. He unlaces my boots, pulls them off, and sets them down with infuriating care. He’s planning to drag this out.
Fine.
I can do that.
Having an action to concentrate on does help. Getting a reward is even better.
Will this fix me? Help my PTSD? I don’t know. Regardless, this will be the most fun I’ve ever had trying.
“Again.”
Either the PM suddenly weighs less, or I’m getting used to it. Heat and hunger wrap around the lingering fear coiled in my chest.
After I pull the trigger, Vanya removes my skirt and gifts me another tip.
Soon enough, I’m down to my bra and panties, my bare feet cold against the damp, dead leaves.
I should feel exposed. Vulnerable.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
I feel powerful. Awake. Alive.
“You’re doing so well.” His hands skim up my sides, stopping just below my breasts. “Better than I expected.”
Praying he removes my bra next, I shoot again. My arms barely register the recoil. I’m too fixated on the heat of his palms and the anticipation of what’s to come.
The crack of gunfire simply provides the background noise.
He unclasps my bra, and the fabric falls away to join the rest of my clothes. His hands cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples until I gasp and arch into his touch.
“One more shot, and…” The tease leaves that last bit unsaid.
My entire body throbs. Peering over my shoulder, I stare him down, eye to eye. Then, without even aiming, I squeeze.
The bullet hits a tree somewhere to the left of the target.
Snickering, Vanya hooks his fingers in my panties and drags them down. “Careful.”
When they pool at my feet, I step out of them.
Now, I’m completely nude. Outdoors. With a loaded gun in my hands and a man who drives me to want things I’ve never let myself want pressed against my back.
“Magazine’s empty.” His rough voice is edged with desire. “Reload.”
I fumble with the Makarov, the quiver in my fingers no longer due to fear.
Though he told me how to reload, I wasn’t paying much attention at the time. Thinking back, I strain to recall his instructions and perform the motions. As I reach for the full magazine on the table, the empty one falls to the grass.
Vanya palms my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers. “Having trouble?”
My breath shudders out. “You’re distracting me.”
“That’s the point.” He pinches hard.
I yelp and drop the full magazine on the table. “Asshat.” I pick up the bullets and start again.
I almost wish it had landed on the ground instead of the wood.
His hand travels down my stomach, settling between my legs.
He palms my pussy, one finger sliding through the wetness.
“You’re so wet, Paige. Don’t tell me all this is from a few gunshots?
” He hums, his finger circling my clit and eliciting a shiver.
“Or is it from me stripping you down out here where anyone might see you if they cruise down the road?”
That question prompts me to glance to the left, where the trees are thinnest. Sure enough, I can glimpse the pavement. The longer we stay out here, the more likely it is that we’ll be seen.
Shooting practice isn’t illegal, but public nudity is.
I finally get the magazine in place. Now, I have to… What comes next? Rack the slide. That’s right. “What’s my reward?”
“You’ll see.” He kicks my feet farther apart. “But first, let’s talk about your stance.”
He keeps his hand between my legs and strokes lightly.
I pull the trigger.
The shot goes wild, hitting somewhere in the trees.
His other hand cracks across my ass.
I cry out, more from shock than pain.
“Squeeze the trigger. Don’t jerk it.” His palm rubs the spot he just hit, soothing the sting. “Good girls squeeze gently.”
The double entendre almost has me losing the PM and climbing him like a tree.
Oh, how I want to squeeze. And not gently.
I’m panting, my muscles trembling. The blood rushing through my body is so intense, I can barely see straight.
I fire again, this time aiming first.
“That’s it. You’re learning.” His finger slips inside me, and I moan, my hips bucking in response.
Each time I fire, he fucks me with his fingers.
I go through the second magazine way faster than the first one. I reload again while he torments my breasts, nips at my neck, and whispers directions in my ear.
He’s still fully dressed, the fabric of his pants silky against my bare skin. “If you can hit anywhere inside the rings, I’ll give you an even better prize.”
Shit.
I don’t know if I can. My arms shake with effort, my thighs slick with arousal. My head spins, dizzy from pleasure and the surge of power that grows with every shot I take.
But I want my prize.
Forcing the buzz of anticipation to the back of my mind, I run back through every bit of advice he gave me.
Slightly bent elbows. Breathe. Steady stance. Push the gun.
His fingers tickle over my ribs, slowly making their way down to my pussy again. Waiting on me.
I breathe, aim, and ease the trigger.
The bullet hits the paper.
Outer edge of the outermost ring, but it still counts.
Behind me, his zipper rasps.
Miracles do happen.
A wrapper crinkles, and I peek to find him rolling on a condom he must have snagged from my purse. Once he finishes, his hands dig into my hips and yank me back.
I gasp and disentangle my finger from the trigger guard.
“Do it again, Paige.” Vanya thrusts inside me in one smooth motion.
I’m up on my tiptoes, one palm flat against the table, the gun forgotten. Already so close to the precipice, just a single stride from oblivion…
And Vanya stops.
Two strokes? That’s all I get?
I squirm my hips. “Vanya…”
“If you hit the bull’s-eye, I’ll give you what you really want.”
No. Oh, hell no.
No way can I do that. Not my first time shooting.
I try to shove back, but his grip tightens, pinning me in place against the table. He keeps me right on the edge.
Literally and figuratively.
“Vanya, please—”
“Bull’s-eye, Paige.” His voice is dark honey and steel. “Prove you can focus even when you’re falling apart.”
I don’t want to. What I want is one little push to release the pressure.
His hands remain on my hips, but he’s only moving enough to remind me of his presence. Filling me up, holding me hostage.
I pick the gun up and raise my shaking hands.
His slow, deep thrusts cause my breath to hitch. “That’s it. Time your breathing with me.”
In. Out. In. Out.
I fire.
And hit the outer ring.
He rewards me with another slow thrust, this one angled differently and hitting parts inside me that blur my vision. I groan and bite my lip.
Focus, Paige. Get that reward.