Chapter 19 Control
Control
“What—” My breath hitched, and thoughts moved too fast to grasp, so I said the only things that seemed feasible at the rudimentary level of language I retained. “Wait—Vitali, it’s so cold.”
He grinned. “Not between your legs.”
What was happening—oh God but this couldn’t be happening!
‘Still snaps if the weather is right.’
I needed to let go—to drop the gun and brace myself against the icy car hood, to keep myself from sliding onto his fingers—his warm fingers firmly pressing over the pubic bone under my jeans.
Both my hands were frozen gripping the pistol set against Vitali’s throat.
His movements adjusted to my expression.
He only caressed at first, sharing in the intimacy of bare skin, then lightly ran a finger along my slit.
I tried to speak through my hard, mangled breathing, but only short, vaporous plumes escaped. The hood groaned under our weight, and more so as I squirmed, but he had me pinned.
“Please,” I whispered. Please take the gun away from me. But I couldn’t say it, because the moment the words formed, he moved his fingers.
He slowly drew them across my flesh, massaging, but letting up when I moved too suddenly. Taking my needing to get away as just my need. And the lines were quickly blurring, because I flexed into him without thinking, and an unexpected jolt shot through me as I ground into the pads of his fingers.
“This isn’t your show, Kotik,” he said, moving his hand away to rest against the crease of my thigh underneath the denim. “Only what I give. This is a lesson, not recreation.”
The tip of the barrel shifted in time with the movement of his Adam’s apple. I fixated on it as if looking away might set it off.
“Nod, so I know you understand the rules.”
I did, rapidly, and that was all I could do because at that instant he pressed a thumb against my clit, sending a hot quake up my spine. My rigid core cramped. He looked pleased.
The stupid thought ran through my head that it took him a whole four months to kiss me and here we were. I almost started cackling, but gasped instead as he leaned his weight against me, grinding his fingers.
“Relax,” he coached, gazing down at me. The low murmur of his voice boasted his masterful restraint, and he was restraining. “You don’t want any sudden movements.”
Something warm inside me broke loose, instantly making me wetter, so much that his face changed as his touch slicked. More pressure—his fingers started in a swirling pattern, gently flicking against my clit whenever he thought I relaxed.
I whimpered, too nervous for it to be a moan, too worked up to be silent.
The gun trembled, but my hands were too numb to feel much more.
The jeans restricted his range of motion, but they kept his hand snug between my thighs. He fought the zipper for movement, but he’d have to shift his knee out of the way—which meant he’d have to let me close my legs—and that wasn’t going to happen.
If I had to suffer, he could deal with the metal teeth cutting up his wrist.
I was too aware of his fingers—their size, their slow movement, them being attached to him. We hadn’t touched this way, and I could think of nothing else for months.
Warmth drew my hips up, my legs trembling. It built when I focused, and died down when I remembered the firearm I held against Vitali’s throat. The loaded firearm.
“God…” I panted, and he smirked, but what I really meant was ‘God, the gun—the gun!’ because it shook in my hands and he pressed into it harder, letting it (forcing it?!) to dig into the underside of his jaw.
I tried to take an even breath and swallowed, the whole of me fighting to ignore Vitali’s cruel intent. He pinched lightly, still rubbing, but now the movement began breaking into jerks.
He leaned down, the weapon digging into him as I stared in horror. “Sometimes things happen without warning,” he whispered, and slid a finger inside.
I gasped, my muscles tightening around him, and simultaneously felt his hard gulp against the barrel.
“Kotik…” he rasped as if the air was his last. The words trembled. “You’re a virgin…”
I gave him one voiceless, terrified nod.
He let out a full-body exhale, his pace slowing to something gentler.
His body shifted, and I could feel the slow, unrealized thrust of his hips in tandem with the movement of his fingers, caught in the moment—in me.
God—but this was the true place between heaven and hell because every time I allowed myself to feel him, I snapped right back to the barrel of the gun.
He saw this, and the pad of his finger massaged my insides just a little faster, firmer, and I’d start getting lost again.
His own breathing grew ragged, and knowing what this was doing to him inspired the thought that I might have to shoot myself just to escape the agony of what that did to me.
Just take a hand off. You can hold it with one hand. Just reach for him… feel how hard he is…
Because he was right there, like the night before New Year’s, back when Katya was a different woman, and he a different man.
When he smeared my lipstick, and I saw him hard against the fabric of his pants.
How many times had I imagined his cock? How many times had I touched myself since then, thinking of it in my hands.
And he was right there. And I couldn’t reach out and touch him.
His hand moved faster, and whimpered through clenched teeth. He slowed, and I arched to keep momentum. He didn’t like that, pinning me down—bad Kotik. This was his, on his terms, at his speed.
Lower the gun, grab hold of his coat, ride his fingers until he can’t handle not fu—
A quick spasm roused me into clutching the gun harder. Don’t lose focus, Katya, for God’s sake…
Was he laughing?
“Don’t. Lower. It.”
“I’m—” I tensed to keep the feeling steady, but now I couldn’t stop it from rushing at me. The living warmth spread and threated to erupt through every nerve ending all at once. “I’m going to—”
“Now is when you’ll practice control,” he said through his own harsh, shallow breaths.
No. He wasn’t laughing. “I’m not going to tell you not to cum—Katya—no, you have my permission.
In fact, I’ll make sure you do. But it will be up to you and that trigger finger to ensure you don’t blow my head off when you do. Control.”
“I can’t!”
He wasn’t thrusting in and out anymore, but rather kept his hand in place, palm putting pressure against my clit as he added another finger, grinding them against the ridge alongside my bladder.
The friction on the secret spot, one I hadn’t even known existed, built into an involutory tremble in my legs, ready to tip over my whole world.
To say my hips bucked would be dishonest because they fought against him with all the useless effort of someone who knows they’re going to die. Faster—faster—
Little black spots clouded my vision, and my eyes began to roll back. He wasn’t talking anymore. His eyes closed, his face strained with a trance-like expression, and the thought occurred to me that I could throw the gun—right then—just throw it far away and he wouldn’t noti—
My core seized violently, forcing a panicked yelp from my lips. He was dead. Vitali was dead. I was sure of it because it wasn’t possible that I hadn’t pulled the trigger back in my mortal body, which was now so far away.
They weren’t gentle waves. They weren’t the ocean. This was violence and pain and the need to inflict pain all in one perfect unraveling. Through it I heard his hoarse, heavy breathing, and that only prolonged the slip into my complete madness.
And he didn’t stop. He slowed, and let off his thumb as my body shuddered, and then pressed down again on my sensitive, swollen flesh. It took no time for me to clench around his fingers. Again and again, he sadistically kept me in place.
And then—the sky. Not Vitali’s face, but the sky. I expected blood on my fingertips when I touched my cheek, and realized there was no gun in my hands.
“Shh, I’ve got you, Kotik.” He picked me up (both of us were miraculously alive), and carefully set me on the snow-trampled ground.
The composed Vitali ‘I will open every door for you and ask Mama for permission before kissing you without tongue’ Konstantinov was once again before me, and whatever maniac possessed him was gone. When I regained myself, I’d have to decide if I missed him.
“You were perfect. You sit in the car—I’ll pack up. We’ll stop and get something to eat.”
* * *
Speech did not return to me as we sped between snowbanks, bouncing off uneven ice and hidden pavement. Vitali made it look so effortless when I’d be holding onto the steering wheel with an iron grip… like I’d held on to that gun.
The giddiness welled up inside me. Vitali Konstantinov made me cum. We had our first kiss on New Year’s, didn’t talk for a month, then he put a gun in my hand and made me cum.
I giggled like a madwoman at the absurdity. Covering my mouth did nothing because I heard him chuckle at my pain.
“But now you feel more confident with a firearm,” he said very seriously, as if I’d tried to dispute it.
“I had a good teacher…”
“Had?” He raised a brow.
“Oh yes, he died because we practiced too much.” I squeezed my eyes shut and doubled over into my lap until I could compose myself again. “I think I was too worn out—let my focus slip.”
“The safety was on.” He grinned, then tried to hide that it was more than a grin by looking out the window. “Kotik, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you’ve never been with anyone.”
My poor stinging cheeks. What had been a light, whimsical feeling in my gut turned over.
“I didn’t know I was supposed to tell you… and it’s not like—it’s not like I’ve never been with someone, just not been with someone,” I protested. “And I don’t think it’s medically possible for you to tell from—”
“Katya, relax,” he said, and his calming hand slid over my thigh. The same hand that just…