25. Natalya

Chapter 25

Natalya

I struggle against the loneliness.

Floating in a gorgeous infinity pool with an incredible view of the river helps a whole lot, but it’s still there, lurking deep inside of me. I can’t remember the last time I felt whole—like there were people in this world that genuinely knew and cared about me.

Maybe the other night, sleeping in bed beside Alexander. Or back in Paris when he showed up at my door.

But no, that’s way too pathetic. I don’t love the thought of Alex making me feel complete and push that idea deep down with all the other feelings I don’t want to examine too closely.

After soaking for a while, I decide to have some lunch. I towel off briefly before heading inside. It’s chilly in the air conditioning and I hum my music to myself as I throw together a quick little girl lunch of crackers and slices of cheese. When I’m nearly done, my phone buzzes.

Alexander: You’re dripping on the floor.

I frown at his text. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is he sending some bizarre dirty talk?

Natalya: I don’t know what that means and I refuse to respond to it.

Alexander: You didn’t dry off enough. You’re dripping on my kitchen floor. Pool water is bad for the wood.

I frown then glance down. He’s right—there are some droplets and footprints where I’ve been walking around.

How the hell does he know that? I clean it off with my towel and pat myself down again, and I’m about to head outside to eat when I hear it.

A soft mechanical whirring sound.

I look up at the corner of the living room and there’s the security camera staring right back. A red light’s glowing at the top.

My phone buzzes.

Alexander: I like that bikini. It suits you.

Natalya: Are you watching me right now?

Alexander: I’m making sure you aren’t doing something stupid. Like dripping all over my floor.

Natalya: You’re an absolute fucking creep ,you know that?

Alexander: And you still haven’t dried off enough.

Natalya: Just because I’m living in your apartment, doesn’t mean you get to spy on me. You total dick.

I glare at the camera and flip it off. The camera shakes side to side almost like it’s laughing at me. I flush with frustration, annoyance, and something else.

A warmth between my legs.

I glance at the texts again. I like that bikini. He’s looking at me right now, and he’s really seeing me. He’s not just watching because he wants to make sure that I’m not violating his sacred space somehow?—

He’s watching because he likes looking.

And I like to be looked at.

Which is an extremely new and bizarre idea, and I’m immediately repulsed. I mean, this is freaking Alex. Why the heck would I want him to look at me while I’m wearing my bathing suit?

I don’t care if he thinks I look good.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

I head outside, but I can’t concentrate. I know that camera’s still staring with Alex at the other end. He’s watching my every move, and it’s driving me crazy.

Because I like it. I want to perform for him. I want to make him as frustrated as I feel right now. I want him to want me, just from staring at a tiny image of me on his phone screen.

And I hate that about myself.

I march back inside, go into the bedroom, and grab one of his t-shirts. Then I throw it over the camera and cover the lens.

Alexander: Take that down right now.

Natalya: No thanks.

Alexander: Don’t test me, printsessa. I’ll come here and you won’t like the consequences.

A thrill runs into my stomach, but I wish it away.

Natalya: Your threats aren’t very scary. Why don’t you find someone else to stalk and creep on?

I expect a reply, but there’s nothing. After a few seconds, I give up and go eat my lunch.

I spend some more time in the pool before I get tired and bored, and decide to head in to take a shower. The water’s nice and hot and the glass walls are covered in steam when I hear the door to the apartment bang open.

I’m scared for only a few seconds before Alexander appears in the bathroom. He stands there glaring death at me as I wipe a little hole in the fog to look back out at him.

He’s got the t-shirt I used to cover the camera gripped in one fist.

“You haven’t figured it out yet, have you, baby,” he says and his voice is low and dangerous.

“Can you get the hell out?” I snap at him, doing my best to cover my chest with one arm.

“We aren’t playing games.” He comes toward me, hesitates, and then rips his own shirt off. He tosses it on the ground. “You are in danger , Natalya. The Marinos want you dead for what we did.”

“I know that, but it doesn’t mean you get to be an overbearing, controlling, obsessive prick.”

“You’re pregnant with my child.” He unbuckles his belt and I swallow as I stare at his rippling muscle. His bicep flexes as he undoes it and deftly flicks open his fly with one hand. “You’re my wife.” He tugs at his jeans until they pool around his ankles. He’s in only a pair of boxer briefs now, and my god, he looks incredible.

Pounds of ripped, firm muscle cover his big frame. Tattoos swirl on his chest: a broken door, a gun oozing blood, a pair of crossed blades over his heart with the words do kontsa below them.

Until the end .

He presses one palm against the glass of the shower. I feel trapped, but not afraid. My body’s pulsing with desire for him and my nipples are rock hard, the stupid traitors. I’m dripping wet and it’s not the water rolling down my skin.

It’s him. It’s Alexander. Big, bold, beautiful Alexander. Perfectly flawed Alexander. He stares death and hate at me, the t-shirt I used to cover the camera still in his hand.

Slowly, he pulls off his boxer briefs.

I catch a glimpse of a thick, vein-covered cock before I look up at the ceiling.

“Okay, I get it, you’re a controlling ape. Please put your clothes back on.”

“Not until you’ve been punished, my disobedient, willful little wife.”

I let out a whimper. Holy shit that is the hottest single sentence a man has ever uttered. This shouldn’t be driving me crazy right now, but I know what Alex can do to me, and the worst part is, I want him to.

I want him to give me everything .

The door to the shower tugs open and he steps inside. Water runs down his sculpted chest in rivers. Even though it’s a pretty big stall, I back away until I’m against the wall.

He’s still got the t-shirt in his hand, and now I’m starting to wonder what he’s doing with it.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask in a very small voice. I have both arms over my breasts and my legs slightly crossed.

His gazes rakes down me, lingering on my wet pubic hair, before meeting my eyes again.

“You are going to turn around, put your hands on the wall, and open your mouth. I’m going to shove this shirt between your lips, make you bite down, and then fuck you while you scream with your pathetic little gag keeping you quiet. And if you’re a good girl, and you take my cock the way I know you want to, I’ll let you come. But if you don’t, I’ll drive my dick into your throat until you swallow my every drop, and I’ll leave you quivering and frustrated when I’m done. Do you understand me?”

My jaw drops open.

Holy freaking shit .

My brain lights on fire. All my triggers pull. My knees tremble and my arms go weak. My lips are numb as my heart hammers into my throat.

This is crazy. Objectively crazy. I should tell him to get the hell out of here. I should do anything but obey.

The second I give in to Alex is the second he takes everything from me.

But the sickest part is, that’s what I want.

He knows me. When he looks at me, he sees me. I can’t hide from him, and I don’t want to. It pisses me off that this frustrating, perfectionist dick bag is the only human in the whole world that makes me feel this way, but I can’t pretend like it’s not happening.

The moment stretches. He grips the wet shirt tighter in his hand and the veins in his forearm pop. Fuck, that’s so sexy. The way the water drips down his face makes me want to moan, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

“Are you going to obey, little wife?” he whispers. “Or am I going to have to punish you even worse?”

Slowly, like in a dream, I drop my arms. He looks at my breast and he licks his lips. My nipples are stiff and tender and my legs are shaking as I turn around and put my hands on the wall.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he says, his voice trembling ever so slightly, and it drives me wild with desire.

He comes close and uses his knee to spread my legs. I gasp as his hand moves up my body, first teasing my breasts, then wrapping around my throat. His lips find my neck and he peppers me with gentle kisses.

“Open your mouth,” he commands.

I obey, tongue out, looking back over my shoulder. His eyes are hooded with desire.

“Bite down.” He pushes the wet shirt between my lips. I bite it gently.

Then he pulls my hair. I moan, the noise stifled by the gag. He holds my hair tight as his other hand reaches around my hips and begins to tease my pussy. Pleasure bursts into my mind and I lean into my hands, pushing my hips back against him as his strokes my clit up and down before burying his fingers inside of me.

Oh my god, it feels so fucking good.

“You’re soaking wet, baby,” he whispers as he bites my shoulder and pushes his fingers in deeper. IT feels so fucking good, and the fact that I can’t say anything back only makes it that much hotter. “I knew you’d want your punishment. The moment I saw you staring at me, I knew what you wanted.”

He’s right. That’s the sick part. Whenever he’s around, I want this, and that desire wars with the hatred I feel toward him when I think about our relationship. He’s been such a bastard to me over the years, and yet this, right here, letting him dominate and pleasure me, it’s the best sex I’ve ever experienced in my life.

I crave it, like a sick addict. It’s pathetic, and I don’t care.

How could I, when he strokes my pussy with his fingers and that’s enough to drive me insane?

I hum and moan as he fills my pussy with his fingers, and when I’m so close I could scream, he pulls his hand back, rips the gag from my mouth, and buries his pussy-coated hand between my lips.

I suck them and lick, cleaning them off, as he presses his enormous cock against my entrance. I have half a second before he drives himself inside of me, slipping in with ease.

Pleasure and pain erupt in my core. He’s so fucking big and he stretches me to the max. His groan of pleasure is the most sensual sound I’ve ever heard in my life.

“Gag now,” he growls, shoving the shirt back into my mouth.

I bite down as he fucks me. The bastard’s rough and perfect as his cock fills me over and over. My fingers press into the wall so hard the knuckles turn white and I’m screaming into the t-shirt as pleasure wracks my little body. He growls like a beast and spanks me, he pulls my hair and bites me, and I push back against his length again and again as bliss builds and builds.

“When you come, scream your husband’s name,” he commands. “Scream it as loud as you want, you filthy fucking girl.”

I mumble something and push back against him. He reaches around my hip and flicks a finger against my swollen, sensitive clit, and that’s enough.

All my triggers pull and I come like an avalanche.

Like a good girl, I moan his name into the gag, over and over again, until it falls from my lips. He keeps fucking me through my knee-melting orgasm, practically supporting all my weight, and I whimper his name again and again until I feel him fill me. He’s warm and big and perfect, and he empties himself between my legs.

He stays there, still buried inside of me, breathing hard. I push against the wall to keep myself upright. My head’s a blurry, cotton-filled mess, and I’m smiling like an idiot.

“That’s a good girl,” he says and grabs my face. He kisses me, slow and wet. “Fuck, you are such a good fucking girl.”

I collapse against the wall as he steps back. I’m barely aware of anything but Alex. I expect him to leave, but instead, he starts to lather the loofa.

“What are you doing?” I ask, surprised as he pulls me against him tenderly.

“First, I punish you. Now, I take care of you. Don’t ever say that I’m selfish.”

“Jury’s still out on that one,” I mutter, a little embarrassed that he’s cleaning me, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s methodical about it, scrubbing me from toes to neck, and rubs the suds away.

“Now, if you ever cover the cameras again—“ He palms my ass hard. “Your next punishment won’t be as nice.”

“I’m gonna be honest here. That didn’t seem so bad.”

His smile is wicked. “Good, because I suspect you’re going to keep on pissing me off, and I’ll have to come up with even more vicious ways to make you come.” Then he buries my mouth in a blistering kiss that leaves me shaking and gets out of the shower.

The t-shirt remains on the floor beside my feet, and I’m wondering what the hell just happened as he towels off and leaves me alone.