Sofia #2
"I don't want gentle right now. I want—" Heat floods my face. "I want you to take control. Make me feel something other than fear. Don’t treat me like I’m damaged.”
Understanding flashes across his face. He knows what I'm asking. To my surprise, he looks nervous.
“You’re safe with me, Sofia.”
“I know.”
"Turn around."
I do. He unzips the dress and pushes it off my shoulders. His lips brush across the back of my neck and then my collar bone.
His hands slide up my sides, then around to cup my breasts through the lace of my bra. I gasp when his thumbs brush over my nipples.
"You wore this dress to drive me crazy," he says. It's not a question.
"Maybe."
He makes a sound that's half laugh, half growl. "It worked."
He unhooks my bra and tosses it aside. His hands return to my breasts, kneading them, rolling my nipples between his fingers. The sensation shoots straight between my legs.
I lean back against him, feeling his hardness pressing against me. Knowing I did that to him makes me feel powerful.
"Bed," he orders. "Now."
I move to the bed and climb on. I start to lie down, but he stops me.
"Hands and knees."
My breath catches.
I do as he says, positioning myself on all fours. I’m completely exposed. Vulnerable. I hear him moving behind me. The rustle of clothing. Then I feel his hands on my hips, sliding my panties down.
"So wet already," he says, his fingers brushing between my legs. "You want this."
"Yes," I breathe.
He presses one finger inside me, then two. I moan, pushing back against his hand.
And then he slaps my ass. I jerk forward with his fingers still inside me.
“Sergei!”
He doesn’t say anything. His fingers fuck me faster.
Slap!
“Oh!” I cry out.
“I can feel you. Don’t fight it.” His hand presses between my shoulder blades, holding me in place.
I moan, dropping my head.
"Remember," he says, his voice rough. "You say stop—"
I look back at him over my shoulder. "Don't stop."
I’m stretched tight as he pushes in a third finger. I whimper, but he doesn’t stop. It’s not long before my body is shaking with need.
"I—"
"I know," he says against my shoulder.
Then his teeth close over my skin.
That does it. My body bucks and pushes against him.
I’ve barely stopped spiraling when he pushes me onto my stomach. And then the weight of him is on me.
Panic rises. My hands fist in the blanket. His mouth is on my ear, nibbling at my lobe.
"It's me. Your husband. Stay with me, princess."
The panic ebbs.
Sergei.
I’m safe.
“I’m okay.”
He nudges my legs apart with his knee. Then he pushes inside me with one smooth thrust until there’s nowhere left for him to go. I cry out at the fullness, the stretch. It’s more intense from this angle. Deeper.
He gives me a moment to adjust, his hands gripping my hips. Then he starts to move. Hard and demanding, each one punching the breath out of me.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asks. "Is this loud enough?"
"Yes," I moan. "Yes."
His hand slides up my back, fisting in my hair. Not painfully, but firmly. Holding me in place while he fucks me.
This is nothing like our wedding night and exactly what I needed.
He pulls away and flips me over. His body looms over mine. I stare up at him and see his chest heaving up and down.
His hand slides under my leg and lifts it, resting it on his shoulder.
“Eyes on me.”
I do it.
“Not easy. Not gentle. Not slow.”
I nod. “Please.”
He inches inside me. I relax under him.
And then he moves. The bed pounds against the wall. He’s grunting and making animalistic sounds that would have terrified me a week ago, but now, they only excite me.
“Sergei!” I cry out his name loud enough to wake the dead.
He doesn’t stop. Good. My breasts bounce with the violent thrusts.
That same sensation from before, but more intense.
"That's it," he groans. "Fuck, you're so tight."
His fingers dig into my hips, the pain feels good.
"More," I beg.
Sweat drips down his nose and lands on my breasts. I don’t know why, but that is the thing that gets me. It’s erotic.
I cry out his name as the orgasm crashes over me. My back bows so hard I swear it feels like my spine is going to snap.
He follows me over, his grip on my hips tightening as he thrusts deep one last time. I feel him pulsing inside me.
He drops my leg and collapses on me.
This time, there’s no fear. It’s comforting. He kisses the side of my face. Then my neck. Then back to my cheek. He whispers words of comfort in Russian. I know some and appreciate his gentleness.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No. A little. It was good.”
“You’re crying.”
“What?”
He kisses my cheek again. “It was too much.”
My breath catches. A small sob escapes.
“No. I feel…free.”
He slides his body off of mine and pulls me against his chest.
I'm boneless. Sated. My mind is blissfully blank. The constant unease is gone.
“Do you feel safe?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t afraid of the shadows.
Tonight, in my husband’s arms, my ass still stinging from his slaps, I feel safer than ever.
“Stay put,” he orders and then his hard body is gone.
Feeling exposed, I slide under the blankets, pulling them to my chin.
I hear water running and then he’s back.
The blankets are pulled away, exposing my naked body. I stare up at him, wondering if we’re doing it again.
I don’t mind if we are. I can deal with soreness. I’m used to pain.
“Roll to your stomach.”
I smile, immediately ready for round two.
He sees my smile and shakes his head. “Stop. You’re going to be sore tomorrow. You’ve had enough for tonight.”
I pout and then frustration. “I know what I can handle.”
“Turn over.”
I do as he says. And then there’s a hot, wet cloth against my stinging ass. He’s so gentle as he soothes the sting.
I relax and let him take care of me.
He tosses the cloth and stretches out beside me, pulling the blanket up again. I turn on my side and let him spoon me with his heavy, muscular arm around my waist.
Now, I can sleep.