Chapter 4
I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you. - Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre
Emma
He would kill me.
This was the price I would pay for my misadventure.
I didn’t dare breathe or even tear my gaze away from his stormy one. The metal point of the ice pick pressed against my skin. It then traced a line down to just between my breasts. I kept my fists clasped there, the sheet twisted between my fingers.
His eyes hardened to the color of dark steel.
The sharp edge of the ice pick sank slightly into my flesh.
Not sufficient to break skin, but just enough to threaten.
With a cry, I dropped my hands. The tip of the makeshift blade pressed down against the balled-up sheets, pushing the fabric to my lap and exposing my breasts.
Looking down, a rush of fresh humiliation washed over me at the sight of my erect nipples.
Wasn’t it enough I had practically clawed at him like a cat in heat once my body had adjusted to the feel of his cock? I didn’t recognize the wanton being I had become. It was as if all rational thought had abandoned me, leaving me a quivering tangle of sensitive nerves.
He was just so big and powerful. It was as if he had stepped out of the pages of one of those bodice-rippers I secretly kept stashed in a box beneath my bed. A marauding pirate or pillaging Viking. And that accent! Oh, God, his accent. It was a deep, sexual purr of dark promises and deeds.
Could I be blamed if I thought for once in my life I would make a poor decision?
For once, I would let myself lose control and give in.
It was not like I had a line of men banging on my door hoping to be my boyfriend.
It wasn’t true what they said in the movies. The nerdy, shy girl doesn’t get the boy.
What she gets is to be in her twenties and still a virgin.
While this wouldn’t have been my first choice, I couldn’t regret what had happened.
Finally!
Finally, I had experienced in life what I had only until this point read about.
Passion.
True, unadulterated passion.
I’d now experienced what it felt like to be wanted and taken by a man… a real man.
Except now the heat of passion had worn off, leaving me feeling chilled and vulnerable.
Cold, hard reasoning had returned.
What the hell was I thinking?
I’d be lucky if he didn’t kill me!
“You owe me an explanation,” he intoned, his gaze still on my exposed breasts as he circled each erect nipple with the metal tip of the ice pick.
On his knuckles I could see tattoos representing each suit from a deck of cards.
Even I knew only very dangerous people had both neck and hand tattoos.
It meant they didn’t care what society thought or how they were judged.
It meant they didn’t live by or obey society’s rules.
Still, he said I owed him an explanation for how tonight had gone so horribly sideways.
Owed him?
I think I had paid enough already.
Besides, some rebellious part of me wanted him to continue thinking I was some femme fatale playing a sexy Catholic schoolgirl game.
Instead of admitting I was a dead-broke student here begging for tuition money.
I didn’t want to think about how humiliating it would be to admit I was some stupid, sheltered virgin who had gotten swept away at the first authentic touch of a man.
I opened my mouth to say something to appease him. Tell him enough of a lie to convince him to just let me grab my clothes and slink off with recriminations and guilt over what I had allowed to happen.
“If you open that mouth to lie to me, I will put it to better use.”
My eyes widened. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was referring to, but I wasn’t so na?ve as to not pick up on the sexual threat. With his Russian accent, everything sounded like a sexual threat.
My mouth snapped shut.
“I take it you are not from the escort agency?”
If this hadn’t been such a dangerous situation, I would have almost laughed at little mousy me being mistaken for an exotic escort. Knowing he was expecting an answer but unable to speak past my suddenly dry tongue, I just shook my head.
“You said you were here for the money. What money?”
I lowered my head, realizing my foolish outburst about needing money had sealed my fate over this dreadful miscommunication. He would not let me go with my dignity intact. I would have to admit the truth.
He reached over and gave my nipple a quick pinch.
I sat up straighter as I covered my breasts with my arms. “Ow!”
He dropped his hand onto the bed, pressing it against my hip as he leaned in closer. His dark brow lowered as his jaw tightened. “Answer me. Why do you need money? Are you in trouble?”
More trouble than I’m in now? Naked in this man’s bed?
This would be the moment to channel some witty, sassy retort like the heroines in my books. To put him in his place as I brazenly talked my way out. Unfortunately, I wasn’t one of those heroines. I was just me. And this man frightened and intimidated me as much as he enthralled me.
My voice sounded weak and pathetic to my ears as I hesitantly said, “I thought this was the house of Mr. Linus Fitzgerald III. I came here tonight to beg him to give me the grant tuition money promised to me so I could finish my degree.”
He abruptly rose. Raising his arm, he threw the metal ice pick across the room till it smashed against a mirror, cracking its surface as he spit out something in Russian that sounded like proklyat . Before I could wonder what he’d just said, he repeated it in English. “Goddamn it.”
His heavy footfalls took him back to the bar cabinet.
His entire back was covered in a massive dragon tattoo.
It looked like a piece of Russian folk art and was colored in with crimson reds and rich greens and golds.
The jewel tones shifted as his heavily muscled back moved with his arms as he poured himself another drink.
Among his super-scary tattoos, he had one that didn’t make sense.
High on his left shoulder there was a tattoo of a cute cartoon bear holding an orange.
It seemed out of place with the dragons, symbols, and dagger.
I didn’t have the courage to boldly ask him about it.
Unable to stop myself, I peeked lower. He had a great ass.
He pivoted, and without warning my view was filled with the sight of his heavily engorged cock. I couldn’t believe that thing fit inside of me. Without thinking, I pressed a protective palm between my legs.
“So you just knocked on a strange man’s door in the middle of the night?
Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?
A little girl like you all alone? Unprotected!
” he raged as he swallowed the contents of his glass before slamming it down onto the counter so hard I heard the crystal crack.
Was he serious?
Forgetting all about my fear, my humiliation, and my naked state, I rose onto my knees. “ You! ” I accused, pointing a finger at him. “ You happened to me! And it wasn’t in the middle of the night!” I finished petulantly, my lower lip sticking out as I put my hands on my hips.
He moved so swiftly I didn’t have a chance to escape.
Wrapping his fist in my curls, he wrenched my head back as he pulled me against his warm body. Aware of my naked breasts brushing against the dark hair on his chest, my heart thumped wildly.
His dark eyes narrowed as his lips twisted into a sneer. “And what were you going to do, детка? Beg him prettily on your knees for the money?” The angrier he got, the thicker his Russian accent became. His voice was nothing but a low guttural growl to my untrained ears, but I understood enough.
With a cry of rage, my arm flew up, ready to slap him and damn the consequences.
A vise snapped around my thin wrist. In one smooth move, he had my arm locked behind my back.
“Perhaps I should make you beg me for the money?”
My vision blurred.
“Would you do that, детка, my sweet little baby girl? Would you get on your knees and open that beautiful mouth for me?”
My body’s reaction to his dark threat was nothing short of sick and twisted.
I felt the rush of heat between my legs.
I clenched my thighs at the thought of being submissively prostrate in front of this dangerously powerful man.
My mouth open and begging for his… his… oh, God!
Heat rose on my cheeks as the wanton image played behind my eyes.
Without thinking, my tongue darted out to wet my lips.
Pressed close to his chest, I felt the vibrations from his growl.
His other arm swept against my upper thighs just under my ass as he lifted me off the bed. Carrying me before him, he strode across the room. Pressing my hands against his shoulders, I squirmed in his embrace. “Where are you taking me?” I demanded.
Ignoring my question, he carried me over the threshold of the bathroom.
Like the entryway, the full space was covered in creamy white marble.
Shifting my weight to one arm as if I were nothing more than a small sack of sugar, he opened a massive glass door and stepped inside.
My gaze darting around, I realized we were in some sort of shower chamber.
There were marble benches and countless brass showerheads and nozzles.
The entire space was bigger than my apartment bedroom.
He pressed me against the chilled marble wall. I cried out at the impact of the cold stone and arched my back. The movement only inflamed him more as it pushed my breasts against him. Stretching his arm out to the right, he slammed his palm against a large metal button.
With a loud hiss, water burst from the showerheads lined along the wall and ceiling.
His massive body curved over mine, protecting me from the initially frigid spray of water.
As the water warmed, his lips skimmed across my cheek to my mouth.
In desperation, I shifted my head to the right.
I didn’t want him to kiss me.