Chapter Thirty-Three
Ilona
Terror freezes my blood.
Not only have I been snooping where I absolutely shouldn’t be, but I got caught.
On my first fucking day at work. Mental images of getting fired flash through my mind like a nightmare reel.
What the hell am I going to do? End up on the streets of Budapest?
I don’t even have money to fly back to Boston.
I spin around slowly, my heart in my throat.
Osip Sidorov stands in the doorway, filling the frame with that predatory stillness that makes my survival instincts scream in terror.
His gray eyes are unreadable, but there’s something burning behind them that makes my knees weak.
The stone-cold expression on his face should terrify me— and it does— but in some twisted way, it also sends liquid heat pooling between my thighs.
What the everloving fuck, girl?
My nipples are so hard they’re practically drilling holes through my thin top. I cross my arms instinctively, but it’s too late. His gaze has already dropped, taking in my body’s betrayal with the precision of a man who knows exactly what he’s seeing.
Those steel-gray eyes are possessive as they devour me, like he’s already decided I belong to him.
“You should not be here.” His voice is deadly quiet, each word precisely enunciated in that accent that makes everything inside me clench.
“I was just… I’m so sorry.” The words tumble out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to— the book moved and I—”
I try to push past him, desperate to escape before I do something catastrophically stupid. But his closeness, that dark masculine scent, invades my senses until I can barely think straight.
When I try to slip around him, his hand snaps out like a striking snake.
His fingers wrap around my wrist— not painful, but inescapable. The contact sends electricity shooting up my arm, and I gasp at the intensity of it. Our eyes meet, and in that moment, I see my own desperate hunger reflected back at me.
There’s no mistaking what’s happening here.
The air between us sizzles with sexual tension that’s been building since the moment we met. We both know there’s no going back from this.
“Ilona.” He murmurs my name in a way that makes me think dirty thoughts. Very dirty thoughts.
“Osip, I—”
He moves faster than thought, backing me against the hidden room’s doorframe. His free hand braces against the wall beside my head, caging me in with his body. The heat radiating from him makes me dizzy with want.
“Do you know what you’ve seen?” His voice is low, dangerous.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“Do you understand what this means?”
I shake my head because I’m not sure I understand anything beyond the desperate need to feel his mouth on mine.
His thumb traces across my pulse point, and I shiver at the gentle touch that contrasts sharply with the violent tension in his body. “You should be afraid of me.”
“I know.” The admission whispers out. “But I’m not.”
Something fractures in his expression. “You should be running.”
“I… don’t want to.”
The words hang between us for one suspended moment.
Then his control snaps.
He crushes his mouth to mine with a hunger that steals my breath. This isn’t gentle or romantic— it’s claiming, possessive, raw. His teeth nip at my bottom lip until I open for him, and his tongue sweeps inside to taste me thoroughly.
I melt against him, every rational thought dissolving under the assault of his kiss. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer as he devours my mouth like he’s been starving for this moment.
When he pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
“There’s a price to be paid for going where you’re not permitted,” he growls against my lips.
“I’m sorry,” I say, though somehow, I don’t feel sorry at all.
His hands span my waist, thumbs stroking over my ribs through the thin fabric of my top. “I could hurt you.”
“Please…” I say hoarsely, not sure if I’m asking him not to, or if that’s exactly what I want.
His eyes darken to storm clouds. Without warning, he spins me around and presses me face-first against the doorframe. My palms flatten against the wood as his body pins me from behind.
“Is this what you want?” His breath is hot against my ear. “To be fucked by a bad man?”
“I… I… Oh God!” The words come out as a moan when his hips press against my ass, letting me feel exactly how much he wants this too. His cock is so thick and hard that my eyes fly wide.
His hand tangles in my hair, tugging my head back until my neck is exposed. “I won’t be gentle.”
“Oh!” I gasp. I find myself grinding back against him.
The growl that rumbles through his chest is purely animal. His hands find the hem of my top, yanking it over my head in one swift motion. Cool air hits my heated skin, making me gasp.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his palms skimming over my ribs, my stomach, finally cupping my breasts through my bra.
When his thumbs brush over my nipples through the lace, I cry out at the sensation. Everything feels amplified, charged. Like my body has been waiting for his touch specifically.
“Osip, please—”
“Please what?” His fingers work the clasp of my bra, letting it fall away. “Tell me what you want.”
“I… I don’t know,” I choke out, even though that’s a lie. Him. I want him.
He spins me around again, his eyes devouring the sight of me half-naked and desperate for him. Something wild and untamed flickers in his expression.
Without warning, his hands grip my waist and lift.
The ground disappears beneath my feet. My startled shriek echoes through the room as he hoists me up like I weigh nothing— and maybe to him, I do. All that controlled power I’ve been fantasizing about is suddenly focused on me, no longer restrained by propriety or distance.
“Osip!” His name tears from my throat, half protest, half plea.
But he’s already moving, carrying me away from his secret room with purposeful strides. My hands clutch at his shoulders for balance, feeling the solid muscle beneath his expensive shirt. The way he holds me— effortlessly, possessively— makes my pussy clench with anticipation.
He dumps me onto his bed without ceremony.
I bounce once against the Egyptian cotton, my hair cascading around me in honey-blonde waves. The mattress is enormous, designed for a king, and I feel suddenly small sprawled across the twisted sheets that still smell like him. Dark, masculine, intoxicating.
My pulse pounds as I watch him above me— sharp angles and dangerous intent. His gray eyes burn with something that makes my thighs tremble. This isn’t the controlled businessman anymore. This is something wilder, hungrier.
What have I unleashed?
Before I can form another coherent thought, his hands are at my jeans. The button pops open under his skilled fingers, the zipper sliding down with deliberate slowness that makes me arch beneath him.
“Osip, what are you—?”
My question dies as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband and yanks. The denim slides down my legs in one swift motion, taking my panties with it. Cool air kisses my heated skin, and I’m suddenly, devastatingly aware of how wet I am. How exposed.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to gravel. “Already so ready for me.”
Heat flames across my cheeks, but I can’t deny it. Can’t pretend I’m not lying here naked and desperately aroused by his dominance. The way he’s looking at me— like he owns me already— should terrify me. Instead, it makes every nerve ending sing with anticipation.
His hands grip my hips, and suddenly I’m being flipped onto my stomach with effortless strength. The movement is so quick it steals my breath, leaving me pressed face-down into his pillows with my ass raised and vulnerable.
Oh God.
The position is humiliating. Exposed. Everything in me should be screaming to escape, to cover myself, to demand explanations. But instead, liquid heat pools between my thighs as I realize what he intends.
“You went where you shouldn’t have gone,” his voice is dark silk above me. “Saw things you shouldn’t have seen.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into his pillow, my voice muffled and breathless.
“Sorry isn’t enough.” His palm skims over the curve of my ass, and I shiver at the gentle touch that promises anything but gentleness. “You need to learn there are consequences for disobeying me.”
Consequences.
The word makes me ache with shameful want.
His hand lifts away, and in the suspended moment that follows, every nerve in my body strains with anticipation.
Then his palm connects with my ass in a sharp crack that makes me cry out.
The sting is immediate, radiating heat across my skin that somehow transforms into pleasure before I can process it.
My fingers clutch at his sheets as the sensation settles deep inside, awakening parts of me I didn’t know existed.
Oh fuck.
“That’s one,” he says, his voice rough with barely controlled hunger. “You’re going to take ten for snooping where you don’t belong.”
“Osip—” His name escapes as half protest, half moan.
The second strike lands on the opposite cheek, harder this time. The sound echoes through the room, followed by my sharp intake of breath. Pain and pleasure blur together until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
“Count them,” he commands. “I want to hear you count each one.”
“Two,” I gasp into his pillow, my voice shaking.
His hand smooths over the heated skin where he struck me, soothing the sting while somehow making me crave the next impact. The contrast between pain and tenderness is devastating— each touch designed to drive me higher.
The third strike comes without warning, making me arch off the bed with a cry that sounds nothing like distress. Fire spreads across my skin, but underneath it, a deeper heat blooms that has nothing to do with the spanking and everything to do with the dark promise in his touch.
“Three!” The word tears from my throat.