Chapter 19 Maksim
MAKSIM
It was rather bold of her to try and escape.
Foolish, yes.
Dangerous, absolutely.
But bold.
I have to give her that much credit, even if thinking about it makes my jaw ache from how tightly I’ve been clenching my teeth since Matvey’s frantic alerts came through on my phone halfway into what had been the start of a perfectly good afternoon.
One second, I’m discussing expansion numbers for one of my shipping fronts while my staff had been tidying around me, getting the compound ready to welcome a set of new clients to a formal dinner later tonight, and the next, my sledopyt is in my ear telling me our captive American has bolted from the property before my shestyorka even knew she was gone.
I knew she had spirit, I just didn’t think she’d be reckless enough to test me like this. And so soon.
The only thing standing between her and a far worse consequence is Lev—who, by some miracle of timing, was already out on a job not far from the area and caught her wandering the street like a tourist lost without a travel guide.
Lev had grabbed her within seconds, hauling her to the nearest store front we owned before calling me.
Arriving here, when I first walked into this back room, I had been expecting to find her exactly as she always is—a little scared, but sharp-eyed and simmering with unfettered anger beneath it. I expected the usual glare. The smart mouth.
But this?
This shaking, whimpering thing standing in front of me?
This is not my Ivy.
She won’t meet my eyes. Her arms are crossed, yes, but not out of defiance like I’m used to. This time, they seem to be holding her together, a flimsy brace for the way her entire frame trembles like she might come apart at the seams.
And when I step closer, she actually flinches.
That, more than anything, pisses me off the most. Because fear from my enemies is one thing—I don’t mind being feared by those under me.
It’s a useful currency. But I never wanted it from her.
I wanted her defiant. Proud. The clever little mouse who snarled at me even when she was trapped, fighting me tooth and fucking nail.
What happened to the girl pumping her fingers between her thighs at the fantasy of me possessing her? Of wanting me to treat her as harshly as I treated my soldiers? What happened to that girl?
“Please,” she breathes. “Let me go.”
The words are soft. Pleading. So unlike her that it catches me off-guard for the barest flicker of a second. I let the silence stretch, then I take another step forward until I’m close enough to practically feel the tremor in her limbs roll through the air like static.
“Bad night last night?” I murmur.
Her head snaps up, eyes finally meeting mine. “What?”
“Did you,” I say, leaning in closer. Her breath stutters out of her, close enough that it fans across my face. “Have a bad time last night? Did I hurt you?”
She hesitates. A flash of uncertainty crosses her face, like she can’t quite figure out whether this is a trap or not. It isn’t. I’m genuinely curious. “N–No. Not at all.”
I hum low in my throat, cocking my head slightly. “Then why so eager to leave, lyubimiy? Didn’t we have fun together?”
The second the words leave my mouth, her cheeks flood with color. The memory hits her. I see it all reflected in the flicker of her pupils—my hand wrapped around her neck, her body twisting under mine as I pounded into her, the way she came apart with my name on her lips.
“I—” she tries, then stops.
“I don’t believe you ran because of fear. At least not the kind you think. You’re not afraid of me. You’re afraid of what I make you feel.”
Her mouth parts like she might deny it, but the words don’t come. I see them die on her tongue the moment she tries to speak.
I smile, unable to help myself. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
She doesn’t.
Her silence is the sweetest confession she’s ever given me.
“You came, Milaya,” I whisper, crowding into her space.
I don’t stop until her back hits the shelf, books rattling from the force.
She gasps, eyes widening as I cage her in with my body.
“With my name on your tongue. With my cock buried so deep inside you, you didn’t know where you ended and I began. ”
She trembles against me, but this time for an entirely different reason than before.
“You asked me to make you mine, and I did,” I murmur against her ear.
Ivy draws in a shaky breath, her eyes darting away from mine, even when I collide our hips together. A small moan comes tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop it, her head tipping back to rest against the shelf behind her.
My little flight risk is turned on. How adorable.
“And then you tried to run,” I growl, pressing my hips forward until the rigid line of me collides with her softness. “Not because I threatened you or because I hurt you. But because you can’t reconcile how much you want me with how much you wish you didn’t.”
“Maksim…” she mumbles.
“Don’t run from me again. It’s a waste of both our time. There is nowhere in this city you can go that I don’t own. You will never succeed in hiding from me,” I say, dragging my mouth just along the line of her jaw.
She jerks, stifling another moan when my thigh moves to part hers.
I feel when her thighs clench together, a desperate, instinctive squeeze against the pressure of mine between them.
I feel the sharp hitch of her breath when I roll my hips the slightest bit harder, dragging the full length of my arousal against her.
I lean down, brushing my lips against the shell of her ear. “See? That’s not fear you feel, Milaya. That’s hunger.”
I cage her with one hand braced against the shelf above her head, the other sliding down her side. She stiffens at my touch, but when my palm rests on her hip, she doesn’t push me away. Instead, she shivers.
Her eyes flick up to meet mine again, wide. I catch it then—the shame in them tangled with raw need.
It’s intoxicating.
I drag my hand from her hip to the soft dip of her waist, pulling her flush against me until every hard line of my body grinds against hers. She gasps, her lips parting again, and this time, the sound that spills out is shameless.
A moan, soft and broken.
“You see? You can’t lie to me. Not when your body begs so sweetly,” I murmur, pressing my mouth to her throat, tasting the rapid pound of her pulse beneath my lips.
Her hips rock almost unconsciously into mine, seeking more. That’s all the proof I need to know I have her exactly where she wants to be. Trapped under me and utterly helpless.
“Run all you want, kroshka. But your body will always bring you back to me.” My hand moves again, up from her waist to her throat. My palm fits there too well, my thumb resting beneath her jaw as I tilt her face up to me.
I kiss her hard, squeezing her throat until she gasps and parts her lips for me. My tongue slides in, wrapping around hers.
Her hands finally lift, trembling as they hover between us. For a second, I think she’ll push me away. But instead, her fingers curl into the front of my shirt, clutching onto me like she’s drowning.
I rip my mouth away from her.
“Say it,” I order, my voice sharp as a whip crack. I grind my hips harder against her, dragging the length of my cock against her thigh through my slacks. The sound she makes is helpless, humiliatingly needy. “Tell me you want me to own you.”
“Please…” she gasps.
“Please, what?” I taunt, nipping at her jaw, dragging her down into the confession I demand. “Say it.”
Her eyes squeeze shut. “I want you to own me.”
I smile, slow and triumphant, leaning back just enough to see her face, to savor every ounce of torment and relief written there. “Good girl.”
I crush my mouth against hers before she can take it back.
It’s not a kiss meant for tenderness. It’s possession, it’s hunger, it’s punishment for leaving me and reward for letting herself be found all in one.
She gasps against me, and I take the chance to slide my tongue between her lips, claiming her from the inside out.
Her nails dig through the fabric of my shirt, biting through the fabric to mark my skin underneath—her own kind of claiming of me.
Good, let her cling to me. Let her admit in every way that she can’t deny me anymore.
My hand slides down her body, skimming over her hip before shoving between her thighs. Even through the thin fabric of her pants, I feel how hot she is, how wet. The evidence of her denial soaks my fingers when I press hard against her, dragging a ragged cry from her throat.
“See? Your body doesn’t lie. You’re dripping for me, Milaya. Don’t you dare pretend otherwise,” I say against her mouth, nipping her lower lip until she whimpers.
Her answer is another moan, louder this time, as I rub my fingers over her clothed core. Her hips jerk, grinding herself down onto my hand. She can’t stop herself. No matter how hard she tries to cling to her pride, her body has already surrendered.
“Say it again. Say what you want,” I growl, dragging my mouth down her neck, sucking at the skin until I leave a mark.
Her breath hitches, her body twisting under me, desperate. “I–I want you.”
“Louder.” My fingers shove beneath her waistband now, finding bare skin, sliding against slick heat. She shudders so violently she almost knocks against the shelf behind her.
“I want you!” she cries out, her voice breaking with it, high and desperate.
That’s it. That’s my victory.
I thrust two fingers inside her without warning, swallowing her gasp with another brutal kiss.
She clamps down around me, her body trying to drag me deeper as her walls squeeze around my fingers.
My cock throbs at the sensation, already straining against the fabric of my slacks, remembering how those same walls felt wrapped around me instead.
Her eyes roll back as she clutches at me, her body grinding down against my hand like she can’t get enough. Every sound she makes only fuels me more, my hips grinding against her thigh in a brutal rhythm.