9. Rose
Rose
"So you just have your men walk in when I’m trying to have a legitimate conversation?" I demand, rolling my eyes. "You really don’t think much of me, huh?"
"Sergei is my second in command," Ilya replies coolly. "Anything that happens in this place, he already knows about it."
"Well, maybe I don’t want him to."
"That’s not a choice you get to make. Not under my roof."
"In case you didn’t notice," I retort, "I didn’t choose to be under your roof or live by your rules. You all but kidnapped me from my work, and if the police do figure out where I am, I’m going to make sure that they know exactly what you did.
No matter how many friends you have in the department, it’s not enough to keep you from being arrested for something like kidnap, is it? "
A smile flickers over his face. "You’d be surprised."
He doesn’t seem scared at all by my threat—because, I realize, he has no reason to be. I try to push that thought aside before it can take root, the fear almost more than I can take.
"Well, Petar would never do something like this," I continue, trying a different approach. "I mean, I know he’s not the smartest, but pointing to me for something like this? He must know that it's not going to get him anywhere."
"You really think he wouldn’t do that to you?"
I hesitate. I don’t want to agree with him if I can avoid it, but I know all too well everything that Petar got away with while we were together.
I don’t know if I can trust that he wouldn’t throw me under the bus like this.
Either way, I don’t want to concede the point and let Ilya think that he’s my savior when I know all too well that he is anything but.
"It doesn’t matter," I reply, tossing my hair over one shoulder. “Whatever it is he’s tried to pull, it's nothing to do with you, and I can handle it on my own."
There it is again, that brief smile, as though he’s enjoying all the ways that I try to stand up to him. Does he like my defiance, or does he like snuffing it out? I can’t tell.
"You’re sure about that?"
It’s almost like he’s daring me. And I don’t know if I’m willing to take him up on that dare.
If I tell him that I want to leave and handle the situation with the cops, then he might let me go right into the arms of the police with no protection, and I don’t know what the chances are of pulling that off without getting implicated in Petar’s bullshit.
In what little I have come to know of Lisa since I was first aware of her existence, she seems like the type who would be all too willing to send another woman down the river if it meant that she got exactly what she wanted.
Perhaps this was always her plan, to use me as a scapegoat for everything she’s done so she can ride off into the sunset with that asshole.
And she made sure to come by my work before she did, just to make sure I truly understood the extent of what she was pushing on me.
"It’s not your choice to make," I fire back, voice taut. None of this is Ilya’s doing, at least when it comes to the embezzlement scheme.
But there is something about the way he’s trying to control me, trying to force me under his thumb, that doesn’t sit right with me.
I have never been the type to just roll over and allow someone to call the shots for me, and that is sure as hell not going to start now just because I’m pregnant.
He rises to his feet, seeming to sense something shift within me. His eyes darken, and my instinct is to take a step back, but I keep my feet rooted to the ground, promising myself that I’m not going to let him get the better of me.
"You need to be careful about how you talk to me," he tells me, almost mildly.
I roll my eyes skyward. "I’m sorry, Ilya, I know that you’re used to having people run around and do whatever you tell them to," I retort. "But that’s not me. Never has been, never will be. You need to learn that now."
"Oh, I do, do I?”
He takes a step towards me, the corner of his lip tugging upwards.
He is taking this as a challenge, not a warning, and it scares the hell out of me to see him look at me with that expression on his face.
Well, it scares me, and... and does something else to me, too.
It’s the same expression he wore back on the plane, in the moments before he took me into his arms and fucked me a few thousand feet in the air.
A heat rises in my belly, an overwhelming warmth that thuds down in the deepest parts of myself.
"Ilya..."
"I think you’re the one who needs to learn, sweetheart," he says as he continues towards me, backing me between the door and him. "Because the way you’ve been acting, I could take it that you want to get yourself in trouble. And I’m sure that’s not what you want, is it?"
His voice has this coaxing nature to it. I fight to keep my composure, but I am not sure that I’m pulling it off.
"You don’t get to tell me what I want," I protest, but some of the certainty has drained from my face, and he senses it at once.
"You sure about that?" he replies as he plants a hand on the door next to me.
I can feel my lips tingling, the pressure of the kiss he gave me before still fresh in my memory.
And I want more—oh, God, though I know I should know better, I want more.
I want as much as he is willing to give me, as ridiculous as that sounds.
This man, the father of my child—or so he claims—has so much power over me in this moment, and I would do anything to be able to kiss him again and forget about everything I have been clinging on to.
I lock eyes with him, mustering every last inch of sureness within me. "Whatever I feel, it has nothing to do with you," I reply, summoning every last inch of haughtiness to my voice.
His hand shifts slightly, brushing over my hip. I suck in a sharp breath, unable to contain myself. He chuckles.
"Look at you," he teases me, thumb working in soft circles over my hip like he knows just what he’s doing to me. "One touch, and you’re flushed. You need to remember who’s in charge here, Rose."
His hand slips between my legs, my thighs parting to allow him closer without a second thought.
Fuck. The heat brewing between us swells all at once, threatening to burn through me and take all of my good sense with it.
He is not touching me anywhere he shouldn’t, at least not yet, but I find myself aching for more, unable to deny myself what I crave so badly.
"You need to learn some manners," he tells me, fingers inching slowly, slowly, slowly up towards my panties. "You need me to teach you, huh?"
I whimper as his hand grazes against the outside of my underwear. His eyes flash with enjoyment, clearly enjoying the sight of me so helpless before him.
"That’s what I thought," he murmurs, hooking my panties to the side, bringing his other arm to my waist and drawing me against him. "Don’t worry, I know just how to do it..."
His fingers find my slit, and he sinks them into me in a single motion, drawing a moan from my lips as he kisses me again.
I know I should be fighting with him, digging my heels in, telling him that he doesn’t get to make these choices for me, but I am long beyond the point of resisting.
As he slips past my folds, fingers pressing into that deepest part of me as he searches for a pleasure he knows I won’t be able to turn down, I lean my head back against the door to catch my breath, though it feels futile.
A jolt of pleasure races through me as his fingers find that ridge on the inside of my pussy, his thumb reaching up to press into my clit and double the pleasure coursing through my system.
I groan, hips rising helplessly into him, and he bites down softly on my bottom lip.
I can feel him grinning against me, sheer lust written in every inch of his movements, and I want nothing more than to let it flood through me.
"You’re so fucking wet," he murmurs. "You came in here looking for an argument, didn’t you? Knowing how I would put you right?”
I don’t have it in me to protest, though I know I should. Letting him assume all of this about me, take it as read that he knows what I want and what I need from him, is a dangerous precedent to set. But when I feel as good as I do right now, it’s hard to think about anything else.
He continues to move his fingers inside me with the expert skill of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.
I manage to focus on his gaze again, his eyes coming back into focus, and the raw hunger in his gaze is almost enough to push me over the edge right then and there.
I’m not sure I have ever felt this level of want from a man before.
I can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against my hip, but his self-control is still on tight lockdown.
Mine, however, is starting to give. I buck my hips against him, needing more as he strokes my clit a few more times, stilling his fingers inside me.
I can feel his warm breath on my skin, and the heat inside me threatens to grow to unstoppable levels.
I reach for him, grasping his shoulders, sinking my nails in the silent plea for him to give me more, give me everything...
But Ilya draws back, resting his hand on my mound, pressing his palm against me. The pleasure is still intense, but it is not driving me towards orgasm as before. And judging by the look on his face, that is exactly what he intended.
“What are you…” I stammer.
"Remember your manners, Rose."
I stare at him, chest rising and falling quickly.
Oh, this fucker. He knows what he’s doing to me, knows the corner he has backed me into.
The pressure between my legs is rising to near-unbearable levels with every passing second, and he wants nothing more than to see me beg for it.
And if I give him this, I might not be able to reclaim the high ground again.
A kiss is one thing, but this, asking him for more, is everything I should have my guard up against.
And yet, as he continues to knead against my mound, I know that I don’t have it in me to fight him any longer.
My knees are weak, my mind’s a mess, and the only thing left in me is the pleasure that’s blooming and demanding release.
I glare at him, wishing I had something to throw back in his face, something I could use to defend myself against everything he’s doing to me.
"What do you want me to do?” he purrs.
"I want you to..."
I search for the words, but none come to mind. Language has fallen away entirely, leaving room for almost nothing else in its wake. I can’t think about anything, focus on anything, but the feel of his hand against my skin, how much I want more, but how impossible it feels to come out and say it.
"I want you to make me come,” I bite out.
It’s the closest I can come to an answer right now, but it seems to be everything he wanted to hear. He slips his hand down, dipping his fingers into the warmth and wetness of my slit, and I whimper as he tends to me like it’s the most important thing in the world.
He pushes two fingers inside my slit, reaching up slightly so that he can caress the ridge just on the inside of my pussy.
I gasp, and he covers my mouth with his, a kiss that sends a shudder coursing all the way down my spine.
My heart is thumping against my ribs as I arch my back slightly, giving him all the access he needs, and he is sure to give me exactly what I want.
"Mmm," he murmurs, dragging his nose across my cheek and breathing in deeply. "I think I like you better like this. When you’re under my control."
I want to protest, but he presses his fingers further into me, and all complaints fall away in an instant.
I reach up to push my fingers into his hair, gazing into his eyes, watching his face as he coaxes me closer and closer to my release.
My thighs are starting to close around him, my body beginning to arch towards my climax, and my vision begins to blur as he looks back at me.
He doesn’t break my gaze for a moment, not giving me an opportunity to pull back, not letting me do anything other than drink in the sight of him there in front of me...
He kisses me again, and that’s what takes me over the edge, my body spasming against him as I finally give in. I cry out, but the sound is muffled by his lips, thank God; I’m sure the whole mansion would have heard me otherwise.
He stills his fingers inside me, letting my body clench around him over and over again, and I try to catch my breath as I rake my nails down his nape, reminding myself that I am still here. With him.
Slowly, he withdraws his fingers from between my thighs and draws them up between us. They are slick with my own juices, an undeniable sign of how much I want him.
"Open your mouth."
I do as I am told at once, and he slips his fingers past my lips, letting me taste myself where I am smeared over his skin.
The sweetness of my musk on my tongue, proof of what he does to me, sends a shudder through my system.
I might just have come minutes ago, but right now, I could go all over again without a second thought.
"You look pretty when you’ve got your mouth shut," he tells me, though I am mostly sure he is just trying to tease me.
I swirl my tongue around his fingers, making sure to show him that I can do a good job cleaning him up. He withdraws his hand, reaching to adjust his cock.
"Next time, I think I might find another way to keep you quiet," he remarks, pointedly glancing downward.
A rush of excitement courses through me at those words. Does he really mean that? It’s hard to believe that he would push things so far after being so restrained up until this point, but maybe that’s the idea.
"Well, what are you waiting for, then?" I shoot back before I can stop myself. I lock eyes with him, a daring expression on my face, willing him to tell me what I want to hear.
He grins, the corner of his lip turning up. "You think you can handle me?"
"Well, if you’re so sure that’s what’s best for me, maybe I should give it a try."
He reaches for me, cupping my face in his hands for a moment and planting an almost tender kiss against my lips. And then he guides me downward, until I’m on my knees before him.
And another flicker of desire rushes through me when I see the strain behind his zipper.