Chapter 4 #2
If he kissed me, I would respond and forget all the very real reasons I shouldn’t.
Steam rose to fill the glass chamber. His hand slid around my waist as he pulled my hips against his own.
I could feel the threatening press of his cock against my stomach.
His teeth scraped along the column of my neck.
My heart beat faster. Between the vodka, the scalding water, and his touch, my head spun.
“Don’t make me force you, моя крошка, because I will.”
My fingers splayed across his chest, feeling the water as it skimmed over his skin, making his tattoos glisten.
I looked at the ominous dagger that appeared to strike him through the throat, the point dripping with blood.
A person didn’t get a tattoo like that unless it had some kind of meaning. A deadly meaning.
A rush of fear coursed over my body to settle in my belly. It was strange how fear could make arousal feel even more intense. Perhaps that’s why books called an orgasm the little death?
Unable to fight him, I submitted. His mouth claimed mine in a bruising kiss filled with dark promise.
As I leaned weakly against the now warm, wet-slicked shower wall, I watched through half-closed lids as he poured body wash into his palm. The creamy sandalwood-scented lather bubbled up as he rubbed his palms together.
Placing his hands on my shoulders, he turned me till my back was pressed against his front.
With one hand on my breast, his other hand skimmed over my belly to cup my sex.
My head fell back as I rose on my toes, unable to stifle a whimper of pain as he caressed my bruised flesh.
He shifted our bodies to the right till we were under a massive circular showerhead directly above us.
The water falling down like rain, he caressed my skin as his hands moved over every inch of my body, washing away the last remnants of soap that was tinged slightly pink, evidence of my now lost virginity.
He guided me back to the shower wall as if I were only a doll for him to manipulate and move. Towering over me, his gaze was fierce and intense as it captured my own.
“I’ll kiss the pain away.”
His head lowered, but instead of capturing my mouth as I assumed he would, he bent lower. Suddenly this beast of a man was on his knees before me, yet there was nothing submissive about him.
My arms flew out to grip the slippery walls for purchase as he draped one leg then the other over his massive shoulders. His hands cupped my ass.
Startled, I looked down my body to see his face nestled between my now stretched-open thighs.
“Oh, God!”
His sensuous mouth twisted into a slight smile. “That’s right, little one. Keep crying out my name.”
With humiliating horror, I watched the tip of his tongue flick out to trace the seam of my pussy lips.
This isn’t happening.
Oh, God!
“Please! You can’t! This is… please!”
The rough touch of his goatee against my sensitive clit as he pushed his tongue inside my still-swollen cunt nearly sent me over the edge. It was such a decadent mixture of pleasure and pain. My fingertips clawed uselessly at the marble tiles as he played my body like an instrument.
He thrust one thick finger inside of me, and I was lost.
My orgasmic scream echoed around the steam-filled chamber.
Just as my spent and weak body slid to the side, he rose and swept me into his arms. Taking a few steps to the left, he sat down on the marble bench, nestling me on his lap.
Using his fingertips to push the wet curls away from my cheeks and neck, he murmured against my forehead, “Ты мой, мой маленький.”
I did not understand what he said. It sounded like Ty moy, moy malen’kiy.
Whatever it was… it probably wasn’t good.
This was bad… really bad.
* * *
An hour later, I was finally allowed to dress.
It was the middle of the night. My roommate was probably worried sick and had already called the cops since I never stayed out this late.
How pathetic was that? That my roommate would freak out over me staying out past midnight on a Friday night.
Still, I guess I wouldn’t be able to claim my life was sheltered and boring after the events of tonight.
A quick inspection showed there was no food in the kitchen. Apparently he traveled quite a bit with whatever business he was in. He announced he was taking me to the Golden Apple, an all-night diner down the street off Lincoln Avenue.
Like Cinderella, I knew this strange night must end.
This wasn’t the real me.
I didn’t have sex with random, criminal-looking strangers!
I was a librarian student, for heaven’s sake!
Besides, who was to say he was taking me out for something to eat? Maybe he was taking me some place to kill me with that evil-looking ice pick and then dump my body in Lake Michigan.
He was Russian. Russians knew about these sorts of things if basically every book and every movie I had ever seen with a Russian villain was to be believed.
So when he said he needed to retrieve his car keys from upstairs, I didn’t think twice. I grabbed my abandoned backpack from the hallway and threw the front door open.
“Don’t take one more step, моя крошка,” he warned from the top of the stairs.
Busted!
After throwing a frightened look over my shoulder, I took flight.
I tore down the dark street, the sound of his heavy footfalls in pursuit pounding in my ears.