Chapter 37 #2
If he just turned me over and fucked my ass without lube, it would be better. But I know he won’t. This is his only demand tonight. The only way he will send help to Roman. And every second is another second my husband could die.
My hands tremble as he rubs his nose along my cheek. “Send him the medic first,” I say.
“Hmm…” He nips my jaw and rubs the pad of his thumb along one nipple. “Give me three orgasms first, and then you’ll get proof.”
I have no defense. No choice but to drop all my walls. Everything in me wants to lock up, to stiffen, to work against the pleasure. The voices in my head struggle.
Don’t come.
I have to.
He’s manipulating you. You’ll hate yourself forever.
I’ll hate myself more if Roman dies.
All thoughts vanish when Anton takes my nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue around the bud, then suckling hard.
He repeats with the other nipple, stabbing at the erect tip with his tongue.
My fingers claw at the sheets, hands shuddering.
He lives up to his word. And I can’t say he’s not good at what he does.
Nowhere near Roman’s godlike level.
Anton has no emotion. It’s all a means to an end, to get what he wants, to win. To take everything from me, from us.
Whatever breast he’s not tormenting with his mouth, he alternates, plucking at my nipples or slapping the swells. I’m still not wet by any means, but the warmth begins to flow. And I feel like a traitor.
“Get out of your head,” Anton snarls, kneading my breast hard enough to leave bruises. He slaps the left breast, grinning at how it bounces, and then slaps the right with more effort. I gasp and let out a genuine whimper. “Horosho devochka.”
I sob for another reason, but he interprets it as pleasure and moves on. The treasonous heat feathers my pussy as he kisses his way down my body until he arrives between my legs. And spreads them wide. I open them more, laying my knees on the bed.
“There you are. Such a good bride,” he praises weakly while gazing at me.
It’s another level of vulnerability, of forced twisted hunger. He cocks his head, nostrils flaring. “You smell divine. So pink, such a deep rose. Still inflamed and puffy from my dick.”
I swallow back bile.
I brace myself as he seals his mouth to my pussy and steals my breath.
His tongue curls and licks, delving deep to rim my hole, then sweeping back up to flick my clit.
Two fingers test my opening. It’s still sore, but he’s tender.
He pumps, sliding in and out with care. His warm mouth covers all my wet folds, hot tongue circling, lips capturing my clit to suck.
And a fever spreads into my blood, radiating to every corner of my body.
One more thrust of his fingers, and I fall off the edge, my hands flying to his hair, all my inner muscles clenching, squeezing around those fingers. I ride it out, wishing it wasn’t good. But it still feels hollow after. Pointless.
As soon as the orgasm fades, Anton drags his mouth across my skin, tonguing and pressing open-mouthed kisses everywhere. My skin tingles, gooseflesh spreading wherever he touches.
Knowing how sensitive my nipples are, he ravishes them. “Such fine tits.” He palms one while nibbling the other, stares up at me while his tongue flicks them every which way, and forces my gaze to hold his. “Flawless. Ripe and heavy.”
Another genuine cry leaves my mouth when he sinks his teeth in, followed by more tears.
He tugs and tweaks each erect bud, sending tendrils of invisible vibrations right to my clit until more wetness slicks my opening.
I bite back a moan, but can’t help the urge to arch.
The moment three of his fingers plunge into me while the heel of his hand strokes my engorged clit, I grind against his hand and convulse, clamping around his fingers.
Pleasure surges through my veins, splashing warmth to my face.
“That’s right, Valentina,” he coos, lips rubbing the corner of my mouth. “Ride my hand. Such a good girl. Two down. One to go.”
Rubbing my clit through the climax, Anton opens my mouth with his again. Once my lips are swollen, he gazes down at me with a smirk. “Don’t worry, moya nevesta. I won’t make you come again on my tongue or my hand. My brother has too many delicious toys for that.”
My breath catches as he reaches into the nightstand drawer next to the bed and pulls out something. I blink a few times, my spine locking up at the sight of the one toy Roman hasn’t used on me yet.
A vibrating wand with three attachments.
The head with the multi-pronged base for the clit.
The thicker curved attachment for my pussy.
And the narrower but long anal beaded probe.
After coating them in lube, Anton slides the curved attachment, rimming my opening, doing the same with the anal probe.
Eyes wide, but my vision blurry from the tears, I feel my sphincter closing around one bead.
And then—
“Oh, God!” I cry out as he shoves both attachments inside, burying them to the hilt. All six anal beads. “Please stop,” I moan as he pumps them in and out.
He hardens, his eyes sharpening. “You made the bargain.”
My whole body is tight. It hurts. A bad pain. Not Roman pain. I try my best to relax. I clench my eyes shut. Every minute, every moment, he’s suffering far worse in the dungeon.
One horrific, gut-turning, heart-shattering thought creeps into my head. I’ve only known him for a few months. He lied to me. He was responsible for the crash, for my missing memory. He made everyone else lie to me. Kept Sasha from me.
I crush the thought. I replace it with all the memories we’ve shared, the found family I’ve come to love, the one I’m protecting now. I replace it with my love for Roman. My king. My crown.
He ripped me from a realm where I was dying, a realm of isolation, a realm where my father, who killed my mother. Roman spent six years—six years—killing for me, building this place for me, saving our found family, and giving them a home.
Whatever ill-gotten paths he took would never have even been necessary if his father and brother hadn’t betrayed him.
I was always meant for Roman. And he for me.
He could be dying. Anton ultimately wouldn’t care. And I could see him letting any of his enemies use his corpse for sport.
So, I soften into the sheets. Anton commands me to look at him.
The moment our eyes clash, he turns on the vibration.
Fire jolts through my skin like quick bursts of lightning I didn’t know could exist. I start to buck and writhe, my body instinctively trying to expel them, but Anton holds them firm.
The prongs cage my clit, stimulating every bit of inflamed flesh while the pulses resonate in my ass and pussy.
Roman would guide it with precision, to leave me both trembling and furious at how completely he’d own me.
Roman. Roman. Roman, I say his name again and again in my mind.
Anton? He just fucks me with it, hard and unrelenting.
He might force me to scream his name until I’m hoarse and the echoes through the manor fade. But he can’t ever take the screams inside my mind, screams for Roman.
His laugh rumbles low, vibrating against my ear as he presses it harder. My body betrays me. It’s exquisite, infuriating, horrifying.
“Fuck it back, girl.”
I do. I’m twisting and grinding against it, inner muscles finding the rhythm, squeezing, throbbing. He smiles, a predator’s smile. Because I’m close.
Anton attacks my breast again, tonguing my pebbled bud, then he closes his mouth with strong suction around one erect nipple and plucks at the other.
I come. I groan and scream his name over and over like he wants me to. My consent is shot to hell from the ecstasy exploding through me. I spiral through his goddamn hell, but before my hands can shove it away, another orgasm tears through me.
“Ohfuckfuckfuck!” I wail from the waves of hot bliss shooting into my system, crashing through my nerve endings.
Chuckling darkly, Anton removes the device, and I slump, my voice hoarse, my body slick with sweat. With a whimper, I curl myself into a ball, trying not to dwell on the pool of my fluids from where I squirted.
He sets the device on the table. No matter how hard I try to keep my chin tucked to my neck, Anton lifts it, wiping my tears with his thumbs, and cutting me with his gaze.
“Now,” I demand, burning my eyes against his. “Send him the doctor.”
His smile twists, and he cues up the digital chip in his arm, one with a security camera on the prison. I heave a sigh of relief from the doctor, the bandages, the bloody—
—oh, God!
“Yes, you notice the time stamp, don’t you, moya nevesta. Tsk, tsk, tsk, it seems you and my brother are more alike in your poor bargaining power. Did you think I would truly let him die before our big day?”
He’d already sent the doctor, long before I agreed to his proposal.
“You’re a fucking monster,” I spit at him, nothing left but the hollow insult.
“Now, now, my wife. Let’s not go to bed angry.” He laughs and quickly rids himself of his clothing, climbing into the bed behind me.
I hiss from the contact with my wounds and elbow him in the ribs.
But he growls against my ear. “No fighting. Or I’ll use the ropes and cuffs.
I have a busy day tomorrow as more guests arrive, more business deals to broker.
I’ve stationed my men all around the manor, but you may come and go as you please, Valentina. ”
A ray of hope splinters through me. “What about the staff?”
“Oh, they have resumed their usual duties.” He scrapes his teeth along the side of my neck. “After all, I can’t have my guests starve and their laundry service stalled. Now, go to sleep.”
Too exhausted from everything, I lean into the hope of some way, somehow, we can free Roman. Zina, Roksana—Roman’s mother—Mikhail, the others, even Sasha. Because as soon as Roman is free, he will bring the bloodiest vengeance down on Anton’s head.
And I can’t wait to join him.