Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Annika
“You. I want you.”
Kirill’s kiss is hungry and demanding on my lips the moment I speak the words.
My body has been simmering with arousal all night long, but now it explodes into an all-consuming fire.
Yes, I was hesitant to marry him; hesitant of the heavy responsibility that came with being the Pathan’s wife.
But this? Our sexual connection? This is something I have craved since the moment I thought I had lost it forever.
“Say it again,” Kirill growls into my lips, his hand sliding possessively around my throat.
I feel a gush of hot liquid sluice between my inner thighs as he squeezes, and I feel myself very willing submit to his dominance.
“I want you,” I rasp between kisses.
My hands grow bolder, and I slide a hand around the back of his neck and pull him down to me even more.
A growl escapes Kirill’s throat as I do so, and the next second I’m lifted off the ground and onto his hips.
His mouth and teeth kiss and nip over my jawline then throat as he holds me, and as he reaches my breasts, now at level with his mouth, he snags the white satin with his teeth and yanks it down; freeing my nipple.
I let out a needy gasp as his lips close greedily around my nipple and suckles hard enough to make my womb quake.
Then when he releases and blows a soft breath across it, I jolt and shiver at the small torture he’s creating.
I cling to him tightly as he repeats his ministrations to my other nipple, but then I’m suddenly put on my feet as soon as both nipples stand taut and achingly hard.
I sway, feel a tremble move through my legs and up to my core, but Kirill’s hands are there to steady me before I fall.
I wait, hungrily, for him to do more, but feel shame creep in as we simply stand there by the grand staircase, letting the silence and the sounds of our heavy breathing pass between us.
“If I let go, can you stand?” Kirill asks.
I manage a nod, confused as to what's happening, and Kirill lets go of my arms. For a moment the room spins, but then my head clears, and I stand straight.
I glance down at herself, feeling another bout of shame as I see my heavy, aching breasts and taut nipples are still sitting naked atop the bust of my dress.
My breasts were big before; a healthy D cup- but now thanks to the pregnancy I’ve grown to a perky double D.
It's a nice perk for the most part, but now, with such arousal coursing through my veins, they feel aching and full and heavy. With a whimper, I move to cover them, or at least try to get them back into my dress. It’s strange, but I feel more vulnerable with my breasts out like this than if I would have been completely naked.
“Don’t,” Kirill commands, snatching my hands and pushing them back down.
My eyes shoot up to him, my confusion deepening.
“But you stopped,” I argue.
“No,” he says, taking my wrists in one hand, “I was taking a moment to see how long you would wait for me. And you don’t have to worry about any interruptions. My people come when they are called. Otherwise they know to stay out of sight and out of my business.”
His eyes dip down to my breasts, his pupils dilating with need.
“You will learn to be more patient, devochka. I will teach you.”
I have no sarcastic retort as a shiver runs down my back.
Even though the memories of our one night together were blurry at first, they had come back with startling vividness and had filled my dreams and even most waking thoughts.
I remember the control he’d taken from me. Remember how much I enjoyed it.
“What else do you want to teach me?” I ask.
Kirill’s eyes shoot back up to mine, glittering with arousal.
“What do you want to learn?” he asks.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Everything,” I whisper.
Kirill’s smile is slow and wicked.
“That’s my good girl,” he praises, his hands moving to his belt. “Hold your wrists out for me.”
His words of praise make my sex pulse and flood, and I obediently hold out my wrists. I watch, my need and fascination growing, as Kirill slides off his black belt and expertly ties my wrists together in front of me.
“I do not like to hear the word no, devochka,” he explains as he weaves the leather, “But I will honor its use if things become too much for you. So if you ever feel like I’m taking things too far, you tell me. Understand?”
Mystified by the effect being tied by his belt had on my body, I only nod as he secures the belt.
When he finishes, he runs his pinky between the leather and skin of my wrists.
“To ensure I don’t cause any permanent damage,” he explains when he catches my curious look. “The human nerve endings can be incredibly delicate.”
Another shiver runs through my body as he says that. I have no doubt he knows all human nerves. How to make them rush with ecstasy- and how to cause excruciating pain. I wonder how he will make mine zoom back and forth between the two.
Kirill hooks a finger between the belt binding my wrists and gives me a tug, and I gasp as I’m forced to take a step toward him.
He lowers his head to mine, letting the tip of his nose trail over my cheek and down my neck as he inhales deeply.
Just this small touch is enough to make my body pulse with anticipation, and I eagerly lean forward, hoping his lips would touch me next.
“Will you go upstairs with me, devochka?” he murmurs against my skin. “Will you let me show you what our bedroom will be used for?”
Through my haze of arousal, I note the difference in his tone. He isn’t demanding. He’s asking. Awaiting my consent. What if I said no?
I quickly drop the thought though, my body too aroused to even consider saying no. I want him inside me again. Even more than that first night. I know what he has to offer and I want it. Badly.
I nod, and in return Kirill blows a rush of breath over my taut nipples, making me gasp.
“I need to hear you say yes, devochka,” he tells her, “For what I plan to do you, I need your full consent.”
“Yes,” I immediately gasp.
The more conservative part of me would be ashamed at how quickly I’d said yes later; ashamed at the intense need I heard in my own voice. But Kirill has a way of taking that part of me and tucking it far, far away.
“That’s my girl,” Kirill praises, then grabs me and kisses me so intensely it makes stars burst behind my eyes.
When he pulls away I’m breathless and so full of need that my very skin pulses. With a small tug at the belt, Kirill leads me to the elevator at the back of the house. Once inside he pushes the button, and then without a word, turns to me and runs his knuckles over my exposed breasts.
I whimper as the small touch shoots fire through my breasts and down my abdomen, and I can’t help but thrust them forward for more. This earns me a wickedly dark chuckle from Kirill.
“I appreciate how sensitive you are, devochka,” he praises, letting his knuckles move in small circles over my taut nipples. “But you will tell me if it is ever too much, yes? We will explore the pleasure of pain in time, but I never want to push you beyond your threshold. At least, not yet.”
His words feel like the most tempting threat, and I can’t help but wonder what my body is truly capable of.
“I’ve tried some things before,” I tell him, her voice soft and breathy.
Kirill raises an intrigued brow.
“Oh? Do tell.”
My cheeks grow even hotter, and I suddenly feel self-conscious as he puts me on the spot.
“S-spanking,” I force herself to say. “Breath play, a little.”
Kirill’s brows rise up as an oh, honey smile spreads across his face, and he shakes his head.
“Oh, devochka,” he chuckles softly. “That is so…cute.”
I want to argue that it was bold, maybe even a little dangerous, but the truth is, I can’t.
Both times I experienced such things I didn’t feel that thrilling rush Kirill elicits.
Even now, with just my breasts exposed, my hands tied, and his fingers barely touching me; I feel more exhilaration than when another man’s hands were wound tightly around my neck or spanked my ass.
Before I can think of a response, the elevator dings, and the doors open.
“Come, little dare devil,” he teases, hooking his finger through the belt once more, “Let us discover what else you might like.”
I’m trying to conjure a sarcastic retort, but my thoughts seize as she I’m led into the wide expanse of the master suite.
It is an utterly decadent room with brass fixtures, white marble floors, pristine white walls and curtains, and black furniture.
A large flat screen television hangs on the wall directly across from the extra large black-framed canopy bed, which is decorated with black silk pillows and matching duvet.
My eyes are drawn immediately toward the bed and suddenly, I don’t want to banter anymore. I’m not sure if it’s the pregnancy hormones or the longing I feel to recreate our first night together become too much; but either way, I’m done with being teased.
“Take off the belt. And my dress,” I command, turning my attention to Kirill.
He raises an amused brow, but he spins me around without a word and unzips me. He then reaches around me, nipping playfully at my neck with his teeth as he unties the belt from my wrists. Once freed, he pulls the long, white sleeves down my arms, letting the dress pool on the floor.
I hear a hiss of displeasure as I feel his hands tug at the strings of the white corset I wore underneath my wedding dress.
“Do not wear one of these again,” he commands, his fingers making quick work of the corset, “You will wear nothing like this while you’re carrying my child, understand? The pressure could do damage.”
I spin around to face him as the corset drops away, leaving me in nothing but my white thong and white heels.
“I’ll wear what I want,” I refute, taking hold of the lapels of his jacket. “There are certain things I will submit to, Kirill, but my choice in what I wear and what I do with my time are my own.”