Chapter 17 #3
It wasn’t like Mikhail’s kiss. Controlled. Grounded. Intense. Meant to soothe and claim at the same time.
It wasn’t like Viktor’s. Wild. A celebration. A challenge to see who would break first.
Andrei’s kiss was an act of war.
It was frustration and fury and a desperate, hungry need to claim something he hadn’t yet touched.
He didn’t coax. He didn’t tease. He took.
His mouth slanted over mine, demanding and punishing and so full of heat I felt it all the way to my toes.
One hand wrapped around the back of my neck, angling my head just how he wanted it; the other braced against the wall beside my head, keeping me where he wanted me.
I responded in kind.
I dug my fingers into the expensive fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer, matching his aggression with my own.
He groaned against my lips, a seductive sound of pleasure and strain and relief all at once.
His tongue swept against mine, claiming, tasting, devouring.
He kissed me like he’d been starving for this moment, for this fight, for this taste of me his whole life.
He broke the kiss as suddenly as he’d started, both of us breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. The cabin was quiet except for the hum of the engines and the ragged sound of our breathing.
“I should lock you in that compartment for the rest of this flight,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over the wet, swollen skin of my lower lip.
“You’d be bored without me,” I shot back, my own breath uneven. “And you’d wonder the whole time what you’re missing.”
“I already know what I’m missing,” he snarled, his gaze dropping to my mouth again. “And it’s driving me insane.”
A soft chime echoed from the front of the plane, followed by the quiet click of a door opening.
We both froze.
A young woman in a crisp navy uniform stepped into the cabin, her expression polite but tinged with a carefully professional blankness.
She stopped short, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly as she took in the scene: me, pinned against the wall by Andrei, my lips undoubtedly swollen, his hand wrapped around my throat.
She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink. “Mr. Dragunov,” she said, her voice a little too high. “Apologies for the interruption. Will you and… your guest be requiring anything before we reach our cruising altitude?”
He grinned, the expression on his face turning dark and dangerous. He didn’t release me. If anything, his grip on my neck tightened possessively. He looked from the flustered stewardess back to me, his eyes dark with intent.
“As a matter of fact,” he said, “yes. I’ll need four silk ties.”
The stewardess blinked, clearly taken aback by the request, but smart enough not to question it. “Of… of course, sir. Right away.”
She turned and fled back toward the bedroom with a haste that was almost comical.
My heart hammered against my ribs in a frantic, wild rhythm. What was he going to do, tie me up? I smiled, imagining exactly that.
“Andrei,” I warned, but it came out sounding more like a challenge.
“Told you there would be consequences,” he murmured, releasing my throat. Before I could protest, he hooked an arm behind my knees and another around my back, lifting me effortlessly.
I let out a surprised yelp as he threw me over his shoulder. The world inverted. The plush carpet of the cabin rushed past my face, the scent of leather and cologne filling my senses.
Fuck.
This was really happening.
He didn’t carry me far. Down the narrow aisle, past the plush leather seats, to a door at the rear of the plane. He kicked it open with his foot.
The bedroom was small but still lavish. A king-sized bed dominated the space, dressed in cream-colored sheets that looked like liquid silk. A single window revealed a canvas of blue sky and white pillow-y clouds and a desert landscape down below.
He dropped me onto the bed. I bounced once and then I scrambled to sit up, pushing my hair out of my face, more than ready to deliver a scathing retort, but there wasn’t time.
He was already on me.
He followed me down, caging me with his body, one knee pressing between my thighs.
His weight was a solid, intimidating presence, the heat of him searing through the fabric of my shirt.
He didn’t say a word. He just looked at me, his eyes burning with an intensity that stole the breath from my lungs.
The stewardess returned, a timid knock on the open door. She held out a small, neatly folded pile of dark silk ties, her gaze fixed somewhere over Andrei’s shoulder. “Sir?”
He didn’t even look at her. He held out a hand, not taking his eyes off me as she handed them to him. “Thank you. That is all.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
He tossed the ties onto the pillow beside my head, four pristine strips of black silk, dark against the pale linen of the bed.
“I told you I’d teach you a lesson,” he snarled.
My heart hammered in my chest. “You think you can?”
He smiled, his expression turning wicked. “I know I can.”
Then he did something I didn’t expect.
He pushed himself off me, rising to his knees on the end of the bed. I swallowed, hesitantly thinking that it was over, but it wasn’t.
Not by a long shot.
He gestured with one finger. “Come here.”
Not a request. A command.
I hesitated for half a second, the old defiance flaring. But there was a dark promise of pleasure and pain in his eyes that I found impossible to resist. I pushed myself up and crawled over to him.
He didn’t give me a chance to breathe.
His hands shot out, and in one fluid, controlled movement, he pushed me down. I landed with a soft oomph, face down on the cool sheets, the world tilting again.
Before I could even think to push myself up, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my pants and panties. The soft fabric dragged down my cheeks as he bared me. Heat bloomed across my face at my sudden nakedness.
His breathing faltered behind me.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, the word a rough caress all on its own.
Then his hand came down.
Not a slap. A spank. The sound echoed in the quiet cabin. A jolt of pure, electric fire shot through me, so intense it stole my breath away. My hips bucked against the bed, a shocked gasp tearing from my throat.
Before I could process it, the second one landed on the other cheek.
Another crack. Another bloom of heat.
Then another.
He wasn’t holding back. Each impact came hard and fast. The sting was immediate, escalating into a deep, throbbing burn that spread through me like wildfire.
I kicked, my legs flailing out, trying to twist away. A string of curses, quick and breathless, spilled from my lips.
He pinned my legs with one of his, his weight settling over the back of my thighs. His other hand rested on the small of my back, holding me firmly in place with nothing more than his body.
I fought. I really did. I bucked, I squirmed, I tried to roll, my muscles straining against him.
But he was stronger. And he was relentless.
I buried my face in the cool silk pillow, my hands fisting in the fabric as I tried to survive the spanking. The burn built, layer upon layer, until my entire backside felt like it was scalded, a pulsing, molten brand of his making.
He paused.
I lay there, panting, my body trembling. The sudden silence was just as jarring as the impacts had been.
His palm smoothed over the curve of my ass, a gentle counterpoint to the intensity of the moments before. His fingers traced the line between my cheek and thigh, then dipped down, feather-light touches brushing against the slick, swollen lips between my legs.
He let out a soft, rough curse.
I jolted, not from pain, but from the shocking intimacy of the touch.
My body reacted instantly, a fresh wave of heat washing over me, sending a flood to my pussy.
A knot of arousal pulled tight deep in my core.
I was so wet I could feel it dripping onto my thighs.
And soaking his hand. I let out a shuddering breath.
“Christ, Katya,” he breathed, the words a hot puff against my skin. “You’re soaked.”
I couldn’t answer. My face was burning, a blush of shame and a dizzying, undeniable desire mixed together. I’d never been so turned on in my life, and the humiliation of it was almost as potent as my rising need.
His finger traced my entrance again, teasing, circling, before slowly, deliberately, sliding inside me.
I gasped, my back arching. He was right.
I was drenched. His finger moved with an easy, slick glide, exploring me from the inside, hooking just slightly to find that spot that made me see spots before my eyes.
He stroked it once, twice, in a slow, deliberate rhythm that made a moan slip from my lips.
Then he withdrew.
A whimper escaped me before I could bite it back.
I felt the loss of his touch deep in my core. But he wasn’t done. He quickly rearranged me over his knee and ran his finger back and forth through my slit. Then he brought that slick, coated finger up, slowly and purposefully, until it rested against the tight, puckered ring of my ass.
My entire body went rigid.
“Andrei,” I warned, my voice a strained whisper.
“Shh,” he murmured, his other hand stroking my lower back in a soothing gesture that was at complete odds with the fire he was about to light. “I want to do this and you will let me.”
He pressed gently. My muscles fought him instinctively, but he didn’t force it. He just held that slow, insistent pressure against my forbidden hole and there was nothing for me to do but survive it.
“Relax for me, princess,” he urged. “Let me in.”
His finger, still coated with my own arousal, was the only lubrication. It was obscene. It was terrifying. It was intimate, violating, and wickedly electrifying.
A soft gasp slipped free from my lips as my body gave way.
He paused, letting me adjust, his other hand still stroking my back. Slowly, he pushed deeper, burying his finger in all the way.