Chapter 10 Vivika
VIVIKA
Iwake to the warmth of another body pressed against my naked back and I don't remember taking my clothes off.
My eyes fly open and my heart slams against my ribs as I try to orient myself.
Where am I and how did I get here? The room is unfamiliar.
The sheets smell like a man's cologne, and there's an arm draped across my waist with so many tattoos, I can barely tell what color it is.
It startles me even when I realize it's Lev and remember that we're in his house, not his uncle’s place anymore.
But the details of how I got naked, and how I got in this bed with him, are foggy.
I start to slide toward the edge of the bed, moving slowly so I don't wake him, but a strong hand closes around my hip and pulls me back against a hard chest.
"Going somewhere?" Lev's voice is rough with sleep, his breath warm against the back of my neck. I feel the stubble of his chin scrape along my vertebrae, then a nip of his teeth on my skin, and feel mortified. Did I fuck him and I don’t remember?
I go rigid in his arms as the events of last night come flooding back in fragments—the bank, the drive to his townhouse. We drank whiskey by the fire. And I remember flirting with him when that drink kicked in mysteriously fast.
Then… nothing. A blank space where memories should be, filled with nothing but darkness and the vague sensation of being carried.
"I…" My voice comes out hoarse. "What happened?"
His hand moves from my hip, sliding up my side in a slow exploration that makes my skin prickle with awareness. He doesn't touch my tits, and when his hand glides downward over my hip, I feel the elastic of my panties there. So I'm not totally nude.
"Did we…" I swallow hard, forcing the words out. "Did we have sex?" The way it leaks out is almost conspiratorial because I feel ashamed of myself.
"No." His hand continues its journey, tracing the curve of my waist, the dip beneath my ribs. "You were drunk. I don't fuck women who can't remember it in the morning."
Relief floods me, followed immediately by confusion. I can feel him pressed against my backside, hard as a rock and prodding at my backside. He's had me in his bed all night, almost completely naked, and he did nothing to me?
I lie there thinking about that for a minute and it makes me relax a little.
I wanted him really badly last night. Call it the drink, or maybe it was the high I felt at having nailed that performance as Ana Veche, but my body was on fire and he was the only thing that could extinguish me.
If we didn't have sex, then it's because he has self-control.
I sure the hell didn't. I don't understand what stopped him.
"But you undressed me," I say softly, curiosity mingled with near accusation.
"Because you couldn't do it yourself. You could barely stand. You didn't want to sleep in that four-hundred-dollar gown, did you?" His lips brush against my shoulder, feather-light, and I shiver despite myself. "I was a perfect gentleman. But now that you're sober…"
He trails off, letting the intention of his word hang in the air between us. His hand lightly caresses between my tits, careful not to touch my nipples, but I can tell he wants to.
"Now that I'm sober, what?"
"Now I'll be whatever you want me to be."
His hand slides lower now, grazing the underside of my right breast, and I know I should pull away.
This man kidnapped me, and he's holding me prisoner.
Whatever attraction I feel toward him is twisted and wrong and probably some kind of Stockholm syndrome.
Hell, he probably drugged me. There's no way that drink was strong enough to knock me out.
But I think about last night, about how easy it would've been for him to take what I was offering. I was drunk and willing and practically throwing myself at him, and he put me to bed instead. He could've done anything he wanted to me and I wouldn't have been able to stop him.
His hips pump against my body, reminding me of that part of him that's eager to have what I was so willing to throw at him last night, but I clamp my eyes shut and grit my teeth.
Do I really want to spread myself and let my captor ravish me?
Am I really so weak that a smidge of humanity in a man who stole me from my life is enough to buckle my knees and make me open for him?
"That is if you're still interested." Lev's hand skips the niceties now, fully gripping me in his hand, twisting a nipple and kneading my flesh. It makes me shudder and let out a low hiss as my body responds to the stimulation.
"I…" I whimper, unable to stop him. Even if I wanted to, I can't. He's way stronger than me and I'm already basically naked.
"If you don't like this, just tell me to stop. It doesn’t mean I will, but you can say it," he says, and I can tell he's smiling as he says it.
I lay there rigidly as his lips press kiss after kiss down my back and across my thigh.
As he rises, the blanket goes with him and the air chills me.
When he grabs my knee and spreads me wide open, I have no choice but to roll to my back and let him look down at me, trembling. And all I can do is stare.
He's chiseled, corded muscles down his stomach, full, hard pecs that beg to be touched and caressed, all smothered in dark ink that paints him as the monster he is. The monster I'm craving to devour me.
"Look at this mess," he purrs, rubbing a thumb over the outside of my panties where I feel moisture building. "All for me?"
He looks up at my face, but my eyes track to his boxers where his dick is no longer tucked away. It protrudes from the slot in front and he's massive. It makes me clench involuntarily and whimper.
"What's wrong, pretty girl? You've never seen a cock this big? Don't worry…" His thumb keeps rubbing me, but now he's stroking himself too. "I'll be gentle."
"Oh, fuck." I'm dead. I'm literally dead and this is a dream before the gates of Hell open and crown me the worst sinner on Earth, right?
He fucking kidnapped me. Him, not someone else, and now my body is dripping to have him and he's right there begging to come in.
"Lev, I…" I start to protest, but his thumb slips under the soggy fabric of my panties and strums me like a guitar. Skin to skin, it's so intense, I can't do anything but arch into him. And when he shoves that thumb up inside me, I whimper and buck against his hand.
"That's it, good girl."
God, the way he's talking to me. I can't. I shouldn't.
"Lev, please… " I don't know if I'm asking for more or for him to stop, so when he asks me, I can't answer.
"Please what, baby? What do you want me to do for you?" Lev's finger continues to work, sliding into my depth then back out across my clit and around again. It's intoxicating, pushing me to deep arousal, and I don't want him to stop. I just don't like what this says about me.
"I…" I clench and protest. My arms cover my tits in a prayer pose and he clicks his tongue.
"Such a beautiful body to cover up, Vivika. Let me see you." His eyes are almost black with lust as he reaches up with his free hand and pulls one arm down, then the other. "Perfect tits."
I am a puddling, whimpering, sloppy mess. Why does he do this to me? Why is my body doing this to me?
With one strong tug he tears the crotch right out of these panties and without trying, he shreds his boxers too, so we're both bare.
It startles me so much, I jump and my arms cover my chest again.
But this time, he cranes his body over me, stretching up to take both my wrists and pin them over my head in one hand.
"I'm gonna take you nice and slow. Tear that little pussy to shreds so you remember who owns you now. And every time you piss, you're gonna remember my name. It'll last for days." Lev's lips brush mine, but I feel his hand working between us, sliding his dick through my mess.
"Shit," I hiss, and I hate how badly I want him in me.
But this is wrong.
I can't do this. It's like giving him permission to continue keeping me captive and holding me here. I want to go home. I don't want to be Ana Veche's stunt double anymore. I want my boring life and my routine.
"St… stop," I whimper, but his thumb starts that thing again, tracing over my clit, down to my entrance and back up.
"You really want me to stop this now?"
His thumb really works me, and I'm whimpering, rocking against it. It's clear my body doesn't want him to stop, but how can I make my mind be okay with that? I can't answer—don't answer, except to continue rubbing my moisture all over that hot dick of his while he plays with me.
"Come on, now… I'm not gonna take it. You have to give it to me. Be a good girl and tell me to stop, or tell me to take it." He nips my bottom lip then lowers his mouth to suck my pulse pint, and while he does, his dick teases my entrance so I find myself scrunching lower. I want him in me.
"Tell me to stop, Viv," he coaxes, now a full inch into my entrance.
He has infinitely more control over his body than I do.
My hands are on his side clawing, and my hips are rocking up to meet him.
"Say it, Princess. Tell me to stop what I'm doing and all of this goes away.
You never have to worry about my wanting to fuck you again.
You'll just be my asset and we'll draw that line. "
I whimper again, especially when he kisses me fully.
The scorching heat of his lips on mine has me trembling.
I could come right here if he just gave my clit a little more attention.
But he's torturously slow at what he’s doing.
It's like he knows what I need and he's withholding, forcing me to speak.
When his hand wraps around my throat and squeezes hard, my eyes pop open to look him dead in the eye. At the same time, his dick begins its descent into me, stretching me wide and sinking until I feel him fully seated.
"I said, tell me to stop," he repeats, but I shake my head.