Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
SOFIYA
After days of not seeing or hearing from Nikolai, he storms into my room in the middle of the night, throws me over his shoulder like some barbarian, and carries me down to his office. Then he gives me an impossible choice: wear his wedding ring or let him tattoo my finger.
He can’t be serious, can he?
But the way his eyes blaze into mine, and the tattoo machine in his hand, tell me he is.
A cold wave of panic crashes over me. If he thinks I’ll let him tattoo me, he’s out of his damn mind.
On instinct, I run. My hands fly to the door, shaking as I twist the knob and tug, but it doesn’t budge. It’s locked, and no matter how I twist or pull, it won’t open.
Behind me, his footsteps are slow and deliberate. “Where do you think you’re going, wife?”
I whip around, hands planted on my hips. “Get away from me!”
His head tilts, a dangerous smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I can’t do that, but I’m giving you a choice. If you don’t like the idea of a tattoo, there’s a half-million-dollar rock that many women would kill to wear.”
“It’s not the ring!” My voice rises, frustration spilling over. “It’s what it represents. That I’m yours… and I will never be yours.” I pause, shaking my head. “You can’t force this on me. I’m not your wife. Not really. I don’t care what the bullshit marriage contract says.”
He shrugs, and the casualness of it sets my blood boiling. His indifference is a slap in the face. While he’s been away on business, I’ve been here, wandering the halls like a ghost. Three days with nothing but time on my hands. Time to feel the weight of how nothing ever goes right for me. To know that no matter how hard I try, things always end up in ruins. And this time, I’ve managed to pull my friends and family down with me.
I wish I could roll back time to undo everything, but I can’t, and I’ll have to wear that shame forever. I’ve searched this entire house for a way out—a phone, a computer, anything to communicate with the outside world—but there’s no sign of where we are, and I’m no closer to finding a way to escape.
And in the quiet moments, when my anger isn’t enough to drown everything else out, my mind drifts to Nikolai and the maddening way he makes me feel. Like my body has a mind of its own.
My frustration boils over, and I grab a stack of files from the desk and fling them at him. Papers scatter in the air like snowflakes. He steps aside easily, his posture relaxed as they float to the floor.
“I see. This is how you want to play.”
Nikolai’s steps are steady and measured as he stalks toward me. I know there’s no way out, but I scramble around his desk anyway, grabbing anything I can find. My hand closes on a stapler, and I fling it at his head. He swats it away with barely any effort.
This is so not good.
My fingers curl around a large book on the corner of his desk, my last hope, and I swing it at him as hard as I can. His hand shoots out, catching my wrist mid-swing. His grip is like iron, unyielding, as he pries the book from my grasp and tosses it to the floor. The sound of it hitting the ground echoes in the tense silence.
In two strides, he’s on me, his arms wrapping around me as he throws me down onto the couch. His fingers press into my jaw, tilting my head up so I can’t look anywhere but at him. His face is so close I can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like that my wife is fierce, but you pull this shit again, and you’ll see a side of me you won’t like. Am I clear?”
“I’ve only ever seen a side of you I don’t like,” I fire back, my voice sharp despite the hammering of my heart.
“Oh, moya sladost, your hate only turns me on more.” His words shouldn’t have this effect on me, but my pussy clenches with need, and a blush burns its way up my neck.
His smirk deepens, his hooded eyes dragging over my face, lingering on my lips before dropping lower to the rise and fall of my chest. My nipples tighten beneath the flimsy sleep tank, and when his gaze lifts again, it’s lit with a spark of satisfaction.
Before I can blink, he hauls me up by the waist, takes my seat on the couch, and then drops me onto his lap. My thighs settle on either side of his hips, his grip firm even as I push against him, my nails biting into his forearms as I wriggle to get free, but for some reason, this doesn’t feel like a fight—it feels a lot more like foreplay.
“Stop struggling,” he growls, pinning my wrists behind me with one massive hand. His lips brush my ear. “The only thing you've accomplished is making my dick very hard.”
My chest constricts, my breathing uneven. He’s not exaggerating. His arousal presses into me, firm and insistent, setting every nerve ablaze.
“Trust me, that's not my intention,” I whisper back, breathlessly. Way too breathlessly.
I should shove him away, tell him how much he disgusts me, but that’s not what I do. Instead, I roll my hips against his hard length, a reflex that feels beyond my control. The friction against my clit has me swallowing back a gasp.
"Are you trying to get yourself off on me, wife?" he asks, his voice all sexy and gravelly.
I shake my head, trying to ignore the desire pooling low in my belly. Despite how fucking good it feels to have him hard between my legs, I know better than to invite trouble into my life. Except every time I try to push him away or tell him to back off, I can’t.
A shaky sigh leaves me. I close my eyes and tilt my hips, the pressure between my thighs growing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, but his hard, warm body beneath mine was more than any mere mortal could resist.
His hand slides up my spine, his fingers threading into my hair as he tugs sharply, forcing my head back and exposing my throat. His mouth follows instantly, teeth scraping against my skin, his tongue leaving trails of warmth and wicked promises.
I arch into him, my defenses crumbling as his lips move over me. By the time he pulls back, his dark, hungry gaze locks on mine, and I can’t find the strength to look away. He’s unraveling me, piece by piece, and I’m letting him.
Nikolai groans, his breath heavy. “Tell me what you want. Use your words.”
“I want you to let me go,” I whisper, though my voice doesn’t sound all that convincing.
“Mmmm, I don’t think that’s true.”
“You’ve lost your mind if you think I’d let you tattoo my finger,” I manage to get out, even as his lips brush the curve of my ear.
“Does that mean you’ll wear the ring?” he asks, his voice thick.
I let out a shaky breath, tension settling low in my belly. “You’re insane, you know that?”
His chuckle vibrates through me. “If you’re so against the tattoo…” He doesn’t finish that thought before his mouth descends, capturing my nipple through the thin fabric of my shirt. His tongue and teeth work the sensitive peak, and I whimper, arching to give him better access. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he pulls back sharply. “Then wear my ring.”
My jaw tightens, and I fight the desperate ache in my core. “I-I don’t like either option.”
“It seems we’re at an impasse.” He leans in again, capturing my other nipple with his mouth, working magic that is very hard to resist. My thighs clench as he drags out every ounce of control I thought I had.
When he pulls back, his intense gaze pins me in place. “Let’s make a deal. If I can make you come in under a minute, I get to tattoo the Zhukov Bratva symbol on your ring finger.”
“Nope. Not happening. And for the record, you wouldn’t even get close in under a minute.”
“If you’re so certain it’s impossible, then prove it.”
I’m ready to tell him to go to hell when an idea occurs to me. It’s a dangerous one. Reckless even, but I’m confident I’ll be the winner. “I’ll agree to the deal on one condition. If you lose, I don’t have to wear your ring… ever. You drop the issue. Throw the half-million-dollar rock into the sea for all I care.”
He drags his tongue over his teeth, his eyes narrowing. The air feels heavy as I hold my breath, daring him to take the bait.
Though my body aches for him, there’s no way in hell a man can get me off in less than a minute. I can’t do it myself that quickly—unless I’m armed with a vibrator, and even then, I can resist anything for a minute.
He gives me a slow, wicked smile, his hand gripping my chin as he pulls me closer, our lips a whisper apart. “Fine,” he says, his voice a low purr. “One minute. But the clock doesn’t start until I’m touching your pussy. Everything before that is a warm-up.”
Wait, what?
I barely have time to process what’s happening before his mouth crashes against mine. His tongue demands entrance, and I can’t stop myself from letting him in. There’s nothing gentle about this kiss—it’s all heat and possession, breaking down my defenses with each stroke of his tongue against mine, devouring me like I’m his last meal.
When his mouth breaks away to trail down my throat, I barely have time to drag air into my lungs before he captures my nipple with his lips again. The hot suction sends lightning through my veins, every nerve ending firing at once. My hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging in as his tongue continues to work me. Each lap and stroke builds the ache between my legs until I’m dripping for him.
“So fucking sweet,” he growls against my skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before moving to my other breast. The warm slide of his mouth against my skin pulls a broken cry from my throat as I arch closer to him. His answering groan vibrates through my flesh as he sucks harder, stealing whimpers I can’t hold back.
Ignore him , I tell myself. Block out his touch .
But that’s impossible because when his eyes meet mine, my breath falters. He’s looking at me with such fierce desire and something else. Like he’s making sure I’m enjoying this, even though it’s all part of a ridiculous bet—one I refuse to lose.
And evidently, so does he.
A whimper escapes me as he pinches my nipple, his groan rumbling against my lips. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, his tongue claiming mine again. A sound vibrates from his chest, deep and rough. It reverberates through me as his hands drift lower, igniting every nerve.
This is it. I know what’s coming next, and I need to clear my head and focus. He showed me what he was capable of in the club’s bathroom, and this would be a bad time to lose my head.
His hand slides into my shorts, slipping lower until his knuckles brush my already damp inner thighs.
“There’s a clock behind me,” he says, his lips grazing my ear. “Tell me when my minute’s up.” Before I can respond, his mouth is on my neck, igniting a shiver as he kisses down to my collarbone. “Ready?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. His fingers drag over my slit, teasing, and my head falls back.
“Ohmygawd.” The words spill out involuntarily as his fingers work my clit, each circle sending waves of ecstasy spiraling through me.
“You’re dripping already,” he says, his tone full of smug satisfaction.
Stars burst in my vision, and I can’t think of a defense when he thrusts two fingers into my pussy, the tension building faster than I ever thought possible. All I can do is grit my teeth and focus on resisting the pleasure that’s consuming every rational thought I have left.
“You’re insufferable,” I groan, my nails digging into his scalp as my hips rock against his hand.
He chuckles, the sound dark and sinful. “Admit it—you love how I make you feel.” His fingers thrust deeper as his palm grinds against my clit. My legs shake in response. “Maybe it turns you on to be at my mercy.”
I want to deny it, but the words won’t come. His fingers curl, hitting that devastating spot that steals the air from my lungs. A broken moan slips from my lips, and his smirk only deepens. “You think you’re in control, but you’re not. Every cry, every plea, the way you fall apart—it’s all mine.”
His words sink into my skin, stirring something raw and visceral inside me.
I force my eyes open to check the time. But when he flicks my clit, my world tilts and a wave of bliss crashes over me.
“Thirty seconds left,” he purrs, his voice like silk. “Plenty of time to ruin you.”
Thirty seconds feels like a fucking eternity right now.
His stare burns with barely contained lust. At least I’m not the only one losing it.
Sensing he has me where he wants me, he doubles down, his rough palm kneading against my clit as his fingers plunge deep, setting a steady, mind-numbing rhythm that has my pussy walls quivering. My eyes roll back in my head. What is he doing? He’s not playing fair—this must be cheating.
“My tattoo will look good on you. I can’t wait to see my mark on your skin.” His voice drops, a rough edge creeping in.
“Nope. Never,” I barely manage to choke out, even as my restraint threatens to shatter.
He thrusts deeper, and his mouth claims mine in a kiss that’s raw and all-consuming. His fingers circle my clit, coaxing me to fall apart for him.
It’s maddening, how he can reduce me to this—a trembling mess at his mercy. My core contracts, responding to every stroke of his fingers, every flick of his thumb. I clench, desperate to hold back, but no amount of willpower can stop the wave threatening to drag me under.
One hard flick against my clit is all it takes—everything inside me detonates… Shit.
My thighs clamp around his hand, and my head falls back as the orgasm tears through me. I bite down on his shoulder to muffle the cry building in my throat, but it doesn’t matter.
He knows I came. He can feel it.
Nikolai’s fingers curl one last time, drawing out the final spasms. He withdraws his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth, and sucks them clean, his blue eyes never leaving mine.
“God, you’re fucking gorgeous when you lose yourself,” he says, his voice thick. The words land like a weight between us. As I collapse against him, breathless and spent, his praise wraps around me like a warm flame.
For a moment, I stay there, soaking it all in. The steady rhythm of his breathing, his fingers combing through my hair, and his presence anchoring me.
And then, as if on cue, Nikolai opens his mouth and ruins everything.
“Fifty-eight and a half seconds,” he whispers in my ear.
Heat floods my face as reality sinks in. I pull away, my mind racing. He can’t be serious—not after what just happened.
With a cocky grin, Nikolai laces his fingers behind his head. He looks like a man who knows he’s won, and I hate it.
I climb off his lap, desperate for space. “Are you sure that’s accurate?” I gesture to the clock on the wall.
“Completely.” His tone drips with amusement. “It’s military-grade.”
Goddammit.
My mouth goes dry as I grasp at straws. “Fifty-eight and a half seconds is basically a minute. I don’t think that’s a reliable number based on the margin of error.”
His brow arches, the look in his eyes downright sinful. “Are you suggesting we try again? I’d be more than willing. Although this time, I’d like to make you come with my tongue.”
Desire shoots through me, but I shove it aside. It’s a terrible idea. Clearly, this man has some kind of sexual superpower I overlooked. “I wasn’t suggesting that at all.”
He shrugs, unbothered. “A deal is a deal. And you don’t strike me as the kind of woman who goes back on her word.”
When he reaches for the tattoo machine, my stomach drops, and panic lodges in my throat. His symbol—his mark—will be on my skin forever. Tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision before spilling over. But I won’t break my word. My parents never followed through on theirs, and I swore a long time ago I’d never be like them.
I lift my chin. “Have you done this before?”
“Many times.”
“A symbol and your initials. That’s it?”
“That’s it,” he says softly. He steps closer, wiping the tears from my cheeks with a gentle touch. “Don’t be scared. It’ll be quick.”
“I’m not afraid of the pain. I’m crying because, once again, you’ve left me with no choice.”
He cups my cheek, his thumb grazing my lips. “Choice is overrated.”
“Your mark won’t change how I feel about you or this marriage. I’ll never submit to you. I’ll never sleep with you. It will mean nothing to me.”
“Again. You mean you’ll never sleep with me again.” He brushes a wisp of my hair behind my ears, his hand lingering on my cheek.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the way his slightest touch ignites a fire under my skin.
“Do it,” I say, my voice brittle, because if this continues, I’ll lose more than my dignity.