Chapter 13
PAVEL
" T he rules are simple. You play nice…and I won't kill you…yet."
I said it with a smirk.
There were so many things swirling in her big, beautiful brown eyes.
Fear and arousal, but I expected those.
The fear was warranted.
Death threats had that effect on people.
Especially people who watched me kill someone right in front of them.
Alina knew I was a cold-blooded killer.
I had earned that fear swirling in her eyes.
In fact, I would say it was right on the edge before turning into pure terror.
The arousal was something I expected, too.
Her body responded to my touch, and although I hadn't intended on touching her in the car, how could any man resist those beautiful tits?
I knew how addictive the taste of her kiss was.
Those delectable breasts made my cock ache and my mouth water.
Soon I was going to know what every inch of her tasted like.
I was going to devour her whole, and she was going to love and loathe every moment of it.
Maybe her nipples being hard had to do with the cold and not her attraction to me, or even the adrenaline and post-orgasm hormones surging through her after her pistol fuck.
But the way her impossibly tight cunt gripped my fingers, how her arousal coated every digit, like thick creamy honey…there was no hiding that.
My sweet captive was just as depraved and fucked up as I was.
She may not have known it yet, but she was absolutely fucking made for me.
There was also something else… panic, maybe? Panic was definitely reflected in her eyes, the golden flecks more pronounced, but there was something more. Something I couldn't quite name.
She rattled the handcuffs. "Let me go, you sick bastard!"
Anger.
I smiled to myself.
Of course. It was anger in her eyes.
Maybe I had pushed her too hard. Or maybe I hadn't pushed her hard enough.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. That's not playing nice," I taunted as I skimmed my mouth along her jaw. "Maybe I need to show you how."
I bit down on her lower lip, pulling on it, tasting her, before releasing it. Still straddling her hips, I leaned back to pull a knife from the holder in my boot.
She inhaled sharply.
"Let's see if I can make you more comfortable," I said as I slipped off the bed and stood hovering over her form.
The silk sheets beneath her gleamed in the low light, her pale skin luminous against the dark fabric. Her breasts rose and fell with each erratic breath. Her stomach was sucked in so hard it was hollow. While her fingers, and even her toes, clenched.
Alina was scared. Good. She should be.
Using the blade of my knife, I sliced through the fishnet stockings, stripping them from her body and pulling off the cheap heels. It wasn't until I pulled them off that I realized they were scuffed to hell, the marks haphazardly covered in Sharpie ink.
She was dressed like a street rat. That was going to have to change, and I was just the man for the job.
Or perhaps her new wardrobe should comprise nothing at all. What use did she have for clothes when she was meant to be my fuck toy?
I couldn't for the life of me think of a single reason she needed to leave my bed. The hotel my cousins owned had everything she could need, and it would be brought to her, delivered right outside that door where I would fetch it.
There was no reason she needed clothes or shoes when her entire purpose would be to satisfy my cock.
The dark thoughts twisted inside my mind.
I hadn't brought her here with the intention of keeping her imprisoned, just like I hadn't chased her down in the office with the intent of forcing my cock down her throat… but here we were.
The contradiction gnawed at me. Part of me wanted to shield her from the world's cruelty, yet at the same time I was becoming her greatest threat. She just had to keep running, keep fighting me and making me punish her. Speaking of which...
"What the fuck were you thinking? Working at a place like that?" I demanded, throwing the cut fabric and shoes aside. The shoes landed on the thick carpet with a dull thud as I looked down at her. Her skin erupted into goosebumps as my gaze caressed her form.
Between her job as a midnight cleaner and the fucking strip club, my anger rose.
Did she not know what could have happened to her? A beautiful, innocent woman had no business putting herself in such dangerous situations.
She risked running into murderous sociopaths…like me.
Case in point. She was now chained to my bed, and I had no intention of letting her go.
She licked her full lips.
Tempting the devil.
I was going to taste those sweet lips again very soon. But first I wanted to hear her answer.
"I was thinking I needed to eat and pay rent."
"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore." I ran the flat of the blade down her body.
Her body jerked as her eyes widened.
I was fully aware she assumed I meant I was going to kill her .
I wasn't going to. At least I was pretty sure I wouldn't.
A better man, a good man, would have reassured her that she would survive our little encounter.
I was many things; a good man was not one of them. In fact, many have called me everything from an evil son of a bitch—which if they knew my mother, was not unwarranted—to a sadistic asshole.
Most of the men who had dared to say such disrespectful things to me were dead. They died slowly and painfully, which may have proved their point.
I was content being a sadistic asshole, and it suited my purposes to keep Alina thinking that her life was on the line. Her fear was sweet, and it brought a serrated edge to her submission that made my mouth water.
It gave me a hunger I was going to satisfy very soon.
I rested the knife on her hip. With her hands handcuffed, it was nothing more than a taunt. A tease. A threat. Keeping my gaze trained on her, I kicked off my shoes and started unbuttoning my shirt.
"You could have worked anywhere. Why there? What did you do for the… patrons of that club?"
I didn't want to know.
The club had a reputation with my men. Velvet Dreams wasn't where you went for a lap dance. It was where you went to get your cock sucked for cheap. The dancers strutted around, and every single one of them was for sale at bargain basement prices.
Apparently, for an extra hundred bucks, a few of the girls would let the men fuck them raw.
More than one of my men had to see the doctor we kept on staff to treat what they now called the “velvet rash.”
Was my girl for sale too? Did she let those dirty fuckers touch her?
I would kill every single man who dared touch her.
"Normal jobs don't pay enough," she said, her voice shaking. "And I don't have the experience they need. I'm just trying to support myself."
"How long?" I asked, undoing another button. Her eyes were focused on my hands as I worked each button free.
"How long what?"
"How long have you been supporting yourself on your back?"
Her brows furrowed in confusion, then cleared as a fire lit in her eyes.
"I am a bartender, not a whore."
"Is there a difference in that place?"
"Yes," she said between clenched teeth.
Maybe it was only because I wanted to, but I believed her.
"Why not? You would make more money that way than emptying garbage cans and slinging stale beer."
"Because that's not who I am," she said, meeting my eye. "Unlike some, I make an honest living."
I tipped my head back and laughed, letting the amusement pour from my lips and my shoulders shake with each chuckle.
She had spirit, I'd give her that.
When I looked back down at her, I slid my shirt off of my shoulders and tossed it to the side.
Her eyes widened at the sight of my tattoos. The violent imagery sprawling across my chest and arms told their own story of blood and brutality. The look of terror that crossed her face told me she understood exactly what kind of man she was dealing with. I reached for the zipper of my pants.
“An honest living, really? You serve watered-down drinks in a shithole meant to suck every last penny from a bunch of losers to line the pockets of the greedy, and to keep those women addicted to their drug of choice.
Where is the honesty in that? Where is the honesty in cleaning office buildings when we both know that every trash can you empty is destroying evidence? "
"I—"
"You are no better than I am, Alina. You think you can look down on me?" I ran my hand over her chest, squeezing her breast until she let out a soft, pained whimper.
"Baby, you are just like me. You may think you can dance in the gray and not get dirty, but by the time I am done with you, you're never going to want to see the sunlight again.
" I leaned down and took her breast in my mouth, biting on her stiff nipple, loving the way her panting pulled at the sensitive flesh.
Then I stood up straight and fisted my cock.
Tears filled her beautiful eyes and spilled down the sides of her face. Soon they were going to stain my silk sheets.
She was so pretty when she cried. All big shining eyes and pink cheeks.
"Let me go," she gritted out. Her tears told me she was scared, her tone suggested anger. It was adorable .
Ignoring her outburst, I yanked off my pants and Calvin Kleins and moved to straddle her again. Her eyes slid shut as she turned her head away from me, trying to bury it in her arm.
I let my hard cock brush the silky skin of her abdomen.
"Look at me," I demanded.
She kept her eyes squeezed shut and her head turned to the side.
I grabbed her by the throat with one hand while I fisted my cock with the other.
"I said look at me." It was a warning, a threat.
Her lips trembled as she faced me and opened those eyes. I ran my thumb over her lips before pushing it inside her mouth.
"Suck it, like a good girl."
She sniffed, her mouth remaining motionless.
"I said suck it. If you want to live, you will obey me. Obedient girls do as they are told."
Her lips wrapped around the base of my thumb, her hot, wet tongue cradled it as she sucked.
I was already remembering the soft press of her tongue along my shaft from earlier.
Christ, the girl could suck cock.
Her mouth would be on my cock day and night.
She was so fucking good at it, I had to wonder where she had learned.
The thought instantly ignited my jealousy like gasoline on fire.
There was no reason to be jealous of any man between her thighs before me…and yet I was .
I despised any man who knew how talented that tongue was, who knew what her cunt tasted like.
There was no way a man could fuck someone like her and not spend the rest of their life thinking about her every time they jerked off.
Every one of those bastards deserved to die.
Any man who knew what sounds she made when she came apart at the seams deserved a bullet between the eyes.
I couldn't change the past, but I could erase her memory of them.
The only cock she was ever going to ache for, ever dream about, let alone remember, was going to be mine.
Something dark and twisted rose in my chest.
I was overwhelmed with a primal need to fuck her so hard, so fast, so painfully, that all thought of any other man was literally pounded out of her head.
Pulling my thumb from between her lips, I moved down her body, spreading her thighs open with my shoulders. First, I wanted a taste of her sweet cunt. To know what her arousal tasted like directly from the source.