Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Anna
I moved into Ivan's place. We fucked like animals that whole first week.
God, the man was incredible. Every night I screamed for him.
Ivan was attentive—different in bed than out of it. He always woke early, bringing warm breakfast to the bed, watching me eat every bite.
Soft sunlight filtered through the curtains, falling across his shoulders. Warm. Gentle.
"Want to sleep a little longer?" he asked.
The question made me freeze.
A few days ago, he'd asked the same thing. I hadn't suspected anything, just nodded and said I was sleepy. Then he'd pinned me to the bed and fucked me all day. He said men got worked up in the morning—it was natural.
I'd been too exhausted to argue, but I learned my lesson. I yanked the covers up to my chin, staring at him with narrowed eyes.
"Not really."
Ivan raised an eyebrow. He saw right through me. Smiling, he handed me a glass of water. I took a sip, the liquid barely past my lips when he grabbed my chin.
"Try something for me."
He leaned close, his breath hot against my ear. My neck burned.
"Anna, we haven't tried this yet."
My heart skipped. I caught sight of the small box of ice cubes in his hand.
I couldn't help tilting my head back. My body responded to him like it had no choice. Like one crook of his finger and I'd surrender completely.
"Ivan."
He kissed me with an ice cube in his mouth.
The freezing sensation traced from my lips down my neck, over my collarbone, across my nipple.
The sharp edge scraped my skin, and I shuddered.
He pressed down on my hips, moving lower.
Melted ice dripped above my navel, sliding down the curve of my stomach.
He followed that wet trail with his tongue, finally burying his face between my legs. The ice cube pressed against my clit.
"Ah—"
The cry tore out of me. I couldn't see anything.
He controlled my pleasure. Under his touch, my body melted into nothing.
He spat out the ice cube and pushed inside me.
I felt myself stretch around him, crushed and reshaped by the sudden, ruthless thickness of him.
The contrast was violent—cool remnants of melted ice still coating my entrance, then the searing heat of his cock driving through it, forcing my body to yield in a single relentless stroke.
I screamed, the sound torn raw from my throat, and my hands flew up, grabbing for his arms. Muscle shifted under my fingers.
Then I remembered what he'd said before—that pets who hurt their masters got thrown away.
Just a joke, delivered with that lazy, dangerous smile of his, but I'd never forgotten.
My fingers softened instantly, tracing the line of his forearm instead, gentle, almost reverent, as if apology could be written into the touch.
"No matter how many times I take you," Ivan groaned, voice low and rough against my ear, "you still drive me crazy."
His weight pinned me, hips rolling in deep, punishing thrusts that left no space for resistance.
"Say it," Ivan growled against my ear, each word timed to another hard stroke that drove the air from my lungs. "Tell me how wet you are for me."
"I'm soaked," I gasped, the confession torn out of me as he slammed in again. "Dripping, fuck, I'm dripping for you—"
"Louder. And the rest." His hand closed around my throat, not tight enough to choke, just enough to remind me who held the leash. "Tell me how much you need to be used."
"I need it," I sobbed, hips jerking helplessly under him. "I need you to use me. Please, just use me!"
"And?" Another brutal thrust, grinding deep, forcing my body to take every inch. "How does it feel to be split open and owned?"
"It feels so fucking good," I cried, the filthy words spilling out exactly the way he wanted. "Being split open by you, owned by you. I love it, I love belonging to you."
The words left my mouth sweet and obedient on the surface, the perfect little pet he'd trained me to be. But inside, something darker coiled. I wanted to see him break the same way he broke me. So I clenched around him deliberately, hard, milking him with every ounce of control I still possessed.
Ivan felt it. His eyes darkened, pupils swallowing the iris until there was almost no color left, like he was taming prey that belonged only to him.
The air between us thickened. He slowed, then stopped entirely right before I came, holding himself buried to the root while my body fluttered helplessly around him.
I whimpered, grinding against him, staring up at him with desperate eyes. My hips rolled in tiny, frantic circles, chasing the edge he'd denied me. Sweat slicked my skin. My thighs trembled.
He pulled out with a wet sound that made my empty cunt clench around nothing.
Leaned back against the headboard, chest rising and falling hard.
I could see him fighting his own need—the thick length of him glistening, veins standing out, the head flushed dark and leaking.
His fingers brushed across my lips, slow, possessive.
Before I could ask what he wanted, he pushed my head down.
"Remember what your master taught you?"
I thought about the hot water and ice. I nodded.
Reached for the glass on the nightstand, plucked another ice cube, and took it into my mouth.
The cold bit into my tongue, sharp and clean.
Then a sip of the still-warm water from the glass.
The heat flooded in right after the cold, a scorching contrast that made my eyes water.
I let both settle, then leaned forward and took him into my mouth.
Ivan's eyes went black. A sound ripped out of him—half groan, half snarl—as the dual temperature of my mouth closed around his cock.
Ice-cold first, then the lingering heat, swirling over the head, down the shaft.
I hollowed my cheeks and sucked, tasting salt and skin, the residual chill making him twitch violently against my tongue.
My hands braced on his thighs. I worked him deeper, letting the tip nudge the back of my throat, swallowing around him while the temperature play drove him toward the edge.
Right before he came, he yanked me up by the hair. The sudden loss of him left my mouth open and wet. He flipped me over with brutal efficiency, shoving me face-first into the mattress, and slammed into me from behind in one savage thrust.
My face buried in the pillow, broken sounds spilling out.
Every stroke dragged over the places he'd already stretched and claimed, the angle deeper now, relentless.
Ivan bent over me, covering my back with his chest. He kissed my eyelids when I turned my head enough to breathe, then bit down on my neck, hard enough to leave marks that would last for days.
Teeth scraped, tongue soothed, then teeth again.
I felt like a vampire's victim—drained, empty, claimed down to the bone.
But I didn't regret it. Not for a second.
He fucked me through the aftershocks of almost-orgasms, never quite letting me fall, building the pressure until my vision blurred.
One hand slid under me to find my clit, rubbing in tight, mean circles timed to his thrusts.
The other fisted in my hair, holding me exactly where he wanted me.
My body was nothing but sensation—stretch, heat, the wet slap of skin, the sharp sting of his teeth, the overwhelming fullness that threatened to split me open.
"Say it," he ordered, voice wrecked. "Tell me who you belong to."
I sobbed the words into the pillow, obedient and filthy, and he rewarded me by slamming harder, deeper, until the bed frame groaned.
The revenge I'd tried to take earlier was gone; there was only surrender now, raw and total.
My walls fluttered around him in warning.
He felt it and growled approval against my neck.
We came together. The orgasm tore through me in violent waves, milking him as he buried himself to the hilt and spilled, hot pulses flooding me while his teeth stayed locked on my skin.
My scream was muffled by the pillow. His groan vibrated through my entire body.
For long seconds there was nothing but the shared pulse, the wet heat, the way our bodies locked and shook.
He stayed inside me afterward, softening slowly, still covering me with his weight. Fingers traced lazy patterns down my spine. The bite marks on my neck throbbed in time with my heartbeat.
I stayed in his arms, listening to his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Pounding against my ear.
Heavy. Safe. Exhausted, I drifted off. The next time I opened my eyes, he was gone. A tiny head peeked over the edge of the bed, staring at me.
She had soft, flaxen curls and huge gray-brown eyes. Clear. Bright.
When she saw me awake, she flinched, then gathered her courage.
"Are you my daddy's girlfriend?"
Daddy? She meant Ivan?
I yanked the blanket over my bare shoulders, softening my voice.
"No, sweetie. I'm just your daddy's friend."
The words left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Friend. I wasn't even that. I was cargo Ivan had bought.
The little girl tilted her head, climbing onto the bed and reaching out her small hand. "I'm Nadia. What's your name?"
I took her hand. "Anna. Nice to meet you, Nadia."
Nadia grinned, showing two missing baby teeth.
"Anna, you're really pretty. I like you."
My chest tightened. The bitterness faded a little. I reached up, stroking her soft curls. "Thank you, Nadia."
She lit up, wiggling closer.
"Daddy's still in the kitchen. I never see Daddy cook. Do you think it'll be any good?"
She cupped her face, her voice full of doubt.
"I'm sure it's fine. Maybe your daddy's better at it than you think."
After all, this past week my only job had been staying in this bed. Ivan handled everything else—including every meal.
Nadia leaned in close, whispering. "If it's bad, you have to help me throw it away, okay?"
Before I could answer, someone knocked.
Ivan stood in the doorway, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, flour dusting his hands.
"What are you two ladies whispering about?"
Nadia jumped off the bed and ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist. "Daddy, your girlfriend is so pretty. I like her."
"I'm not—"
"She's my little cat. She's got claws."
He didn't correct her. Probably didn't want Nadia dealing with complicated truths yet.
Ivan picked Nadia up and left, giving me space.
I got dressed, washed up. By the time I came downstairs, Nadia had set the table. She grinned at me. "You were right. Daddy's steak smells amazing."
I smiled, sitting in my usual spot.
A basket of golden-brown rolls sat in the center of the table. Butter, black pepper, seared beef—the whole room smelled warm.
Looking at the easy smiles on Ivan and Nadia's faces, I felt happy. I didn't know how long this could last. But I felt happy.
For the first time since Mom left, I felt like I had a home.
Before, I'd lived in a house where Gary sold everything for debts. Wind whistled through broken windows. Cups on the table were always sticky with old booze. I left early, came back late, dodging collectors. I never sat down for a hot meal.
Later I lived in basements, slept on train station benches. I worked odd jobs, saved for tuition, scraped by on scholarships to get through college.
I'd never dared hope for a stable family life. Survival was hard enough.
Ivan looked at me. Slid the steak he'd cut onto my plate. Nadia called him a cheater, then did the same with hers.
God, was I dreaming?
It was too perfect. So perfect I knew it was a joke.
And it was—
Because before I could even sink into it, the doorbell rang.
Ivan went to answer. I glanced toward the door. A woman walked in, smiling. Tall. Elegant. Long chestnut hair.
She looked like she belonged with Ivan.
My heart clenched.
She hooked her arm around Ivan's neck, kissing his cheek. "Darling, it's been too long."