Chapter Eleven #3
My heart lurches at the unexpected face staring straight at me.
Mikhail.
He’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his broad shoulders filling the frame. His eyes are trained on me with a focus so intense, it makes my stomach twist. His presence is so sudden, so overwhelming and unexpected, that I freeze, my hand suspended mid-air.
For a moment, neither one of us moves, the tension thick enough to drown in.
Forcing myself to release a breath, I look away, my breath catching in my throat as I turn back to the sink. My fingers tremble as they hover towards the stream of water.
Then, without warning, he’s there.
His hand darts out, capturing my wrist in a grip that’s firm, but not painful.
I gasp at the sudden touch, my body jerking in surprise, but Mikhail doesn’t let go.
Instead, he steps closer to me, his chest pressed against my back, as he leans down.
His fingers tighten around my wrist as he guides my hand away.
“Mikhail.” I whisper. “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer me.
Instead, he lowers his head down further, his breath warm against the side of my neck as he raises my hand higher, turning it slightly so that my chocolate-stained fingers are at level with his mouth.
My breath catches in my throat, my eyes becoming wide as I stare at him in the mirror.
His eyes—dark, intense—are locked on mine.
“How dirty.”
Mikhail murmurs, his voice low and edged with something that makes my knees feel weak.
His tongue flicks out, brushes against the tip of one finger, and I shudder.
“Mikhail—”
I try saying again, but the word dies in my mouth as he licks another finger, his gaze never leaving mine.
The contrast of the heat of his tongue against my skin mixed with the coldness of the room sends a jolt through my body, my breathing becoming unsteady.
“You taste so sweet, beauty.”
He says softly, his voice almost teasing as his lips curl into a small smirk.
I hate the way my pulse races in response.
“Stop.”
I manage to whisper, but it sounds so weak, even to my own ears.
Mikhail doesn’t stop.
He takes his time, savouring each finger as though this is another twisted game of his, a test to see how far he can push me. And throughout it all, his eyes remain on mine in the mirror, watching every flicker of emotion that crosses my face.
By the time Mikhail is finished, I’m trembling, each breath coming out in shallow gasps. My body feels like it's on fire as warmth pools in my lower stomach.
Finally, he releases my wrist, letting my hand drop, but he doesn't step away. I swallow hard, feeling the way his presence looms over me, so heavy and suffocating. Mikhail leans forward, moving close so that our faces are pressed side-by-side as he turns slightly, looking straight into my eyes.
I stop breathing altogether.
“Don’t make a mess next time, beauty.” He murmurs softly, his lips brushing against the corners of mine with every word that leaves his mouth. “Or else, I won’t stop at just your fingers.”
His words send a shiver down my spine.
Finally, he pulls back, turning on his feet as he walks away from me, leaving me in the bathroom, clutching onto the edge of the sink, my legs barely able to hold me up.
He shuts the door behind me, and I finally release the breath I’ve been holding. I look back at my reflection in the mirror, noticing how flushed and wide-eyed I now look.
I let the water run, wondering if I’ll ever find solid ground again, or if this madness will eventually consume me whole.
Running my fingers under the water, I try to erase the feeling of Mikhail’s mouth. My breathing is uneven, and the woman in the mirror mocks me with her flushed cheeks, and the look in her eyes that tells me she should know better—that I should know better.
With a splash, I cup some water before throwing it to my face, allowing the chill to soothe my heated skin. Droplets trail down my cheeks and neck as I stare into the mirror, gripping onto the faint hope that I can collect myself before returning to my room.
I swallow hard.
It’s more like my prison.
A humourless laugh escapes me as I straighten up, flicking water from my hands before I wipe them over the soft material of my t-shirt. I take a deep breath in, shaking my head to clear it of these wild thoughts, as I leave the bathroom, making my way towards the bed again.
I step into my room, pausing for a second as I look over the space in front of me.
I have no idea if they’re keeping me out, or locking me in any more.
I tread towards the small bed.
I’m too lost in my own thoughts to even notice it at first, too focused on the ache in my heart, and the knot of frustration that’s twisting tighter and tighter.
I freeze mid-step when I feel it; warmth at my back, a presence too close to mistake. My heart lurches violently, every nerve alive as an arm slips around my middle, tugging me back into his chest.
“Nikolai.”
I whisper, barely able to choke out his name, his touch all-too familiar now.
His voice, deep and low, brushes against my head.
“Familiarising yourself with my touch, are you, darling?”
I take a deep breath in as his chest presses into my back, his arm heavy as he rests it around my middle.
We’re so close together, barely an inch of space between us, that I can’t help but expect it. When I feel it though, that’s something else altogether. He’s hard, and he’s shameless enough to rub himself on my body, causing every breath of mine to become heavier.
I swallow hard.
“W-What do you want now, Nikolai?”
His chuckle is soft, dangerous too, as it sends a wave of unease washing over me.
“Want?” He repeats, his voice taking on a teasing tone as his lips graze my ear. “I want you to stop running away from us, darling. I want you to give into us.”
I shake my head, my breathing shallow.
“I-I’m not—”
He cuts in, his tone sharper now, though not unkind.
“You are running away, Chiara.” I shiver at the sound of my name leaving his lips. “Every time you push us away, every time you pretend you’re not ours…you only make us want you more.”
The words hit me like a blow, the weight of them sinking deep into my chest.
My legs feel weak, and if it wasn’t for him holding me upright with his arm around my middle, I know I would have sunk down onto my knees.
I hate my body for betraying me like this, but it’s all his fault.
It’s hard to think straight when he’s so close to me like this, and when his body is reacting to mine.
“You’re delusional.”
I manage to say, my voice trembling and my eyes focused straight ahead, refusing to turn my head even an inch to look over at him.
“Am I?” Nikolai asks, his tone calm, but I can hear the tension in his voice. “Then why are you reacting to my touch?” His arm is still locked around my middle, but he raises his hand, swiping his thumb along my breast, causing my breath to hitch. “Why do you freeze when I call you by your name?”
The throbbing between my legs only grows, and as he pushes his hips against my backside, I can’t help but sigh heavily.
“I’m not—”
There’s no use trying to lie to him.
He already knows.
“Stop lying to yourself, darling.” Nikolai murmurs into my ear. “Just give in to us. Soon, there’ll be no part of you left that doesn’t belong to us, and you will thank us for it.”
My knees buckle slightly, but I catch myself.
I won’t let him win.
“Get away from me.”
I manage, my voice steady as I force his hand away from around my body.
To my surprise, he listens. He drops his arm, and he takes a step back. The heat of his body soon begins to fade, and with a small, humourless laugh, he leaves me be.
“Goodnight, darling.” He whispers softly. “Be sure to dream sweet dreams of your captors.”
I swallow hard, and when I finally dare to look over my shoulder, I find that Nikolai is already gone, leaving me all alone with the sound of my racing heart.
Forcing myself to look away, I drag my feet towards the bed before getting under the covers, staring straight ahead at the ceiling.
The pain in my lower belly has now become a steady ache.
I sigh heavily, shifting slightly, but even that small movement sends a spark of awareness through my body.
The ache that was once there purely because of my cramps feels different now.
My skin is too sensitive, and my nerves are tingling with something unfamiliar, yet also something undeniable.
And it’s all their fault.
The way that Mikhail had held my wrist, the way that he had brought my fingers to his mouth, the way that his tongue had slid over the length of my digits…
The way that Nikolai had held onto my body, the way that he had whispered into my ear, the way that he had pressed himself against me…
Heat pools low in my belly as both my thighs press together instinctively.
I shouldn’t be feeling like this.
Not now.
Not ever.
I shift again, frustration curling through me, but it only makes everything worse.
A whimper slips from my lips before I can stop it. My body is flushed, the warmth of my own skin suddenly too much, too overwhelming.
My body is too aware of the fact that they aren't here, but instead of filling me with relief, the fact only leaves me feeling dread.
If not them…then who?
I can’t stop thinking about them.
The sharp contrast between them; one dark, one light, one brooding, one teasing.
Both are equally dangerous.
Both are equally devoted.
Both are equally mine.
My breathing is uneven now, and my fingertips are twitching by my side, aching to touch, to chase relief.
I shouldn’t.
I really shouldn’t.
But when I close my eyes, they’re there.
Nikolai, with his sharp eyes roaming all over me slowly, deliberately, like he’s memorising every inch of me.
The way his voice drops when he calls me darling, the word curling around us like smoke, thick and heavy.
The way his hot breath fans against my neck as he whispers to me in Russian, his hands roaming lower, teasing me, torturing me too.
Mikhail, with his smirk softening at the corners whenever he murmurs beauty, his fingers brushing along my cheek like he’s marking me with something invisible, but something permanent too. His smirk softens as he leans in, his lips brushing over mine, before he trails down, down…
My breathing hitches. My thighs squeeze tighter.
I tell myself it’s just the hormones; it’s just the rush of emotions from everything happening at once.
That’s all.
It’s all just biology.
This is just relief.
But when my hand dips beneath the blanket, sliding between my thighs, and through my wet folds, the truth is impossible to ignore.
It’s them.
Nikolai.
Mikhail.
It’s always them.
And the worst part?
I want them.
I want their hands on me.
I want their mouths on me.
I want to be between them.
I want to be beneath them.
I want to be theirs.
And deep down, I know that they know it too.
That’s why they are so patient with me.
That’s why they are waiting for me.
Because they know that when I finally give in, it won’t be hesitation or uncertainty guiding me.
It will be this.
This need.
This hunger.
This aching, all-consuming desire.
And when that moment comes…
I don’t think I'll ever be able to stop.
I press my face into the pillow, biting down on a moan, but it’s useless.
I’m already slipping.
I’m already sinking.
My mind, my body, my very soul…
They’re no longer just mine.
Piece by piece, I’m losing myself to them.
I know that I am.