Chapter 13

Lydia

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I lie in bed staring at the wall. I slept well for a while, my belly full after a hot shower and a human hot water bottle beside me.

But now I’m wide awake, my mind buzzing with fear and possibilities.

I'm starting to see the wisdom in staying because if I leave… Where will I go? My family is entwined with the Romanovs. If I want anything to do with my mother or my sister, I stay here. If I leave, if I try to get away, I don't trust that my former fiancé won't come after me. And after what I've seen, I don't know what he’d do to me.

What if that man Viktor killed yesterday was telling the truth? What if my future husband intended on using me and sharing me? The thought of it disgusts me. I wake up with a heavy heart, my future husband next to me.

“Are you awake?” he asks.

I nod. “You?”

“Yeah,” he says in a low voice. Everything about him is so heavy and big and masculine, even his voice.

“What time is it?”

“No idea. Time when you should still be sleeping, anyway.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

I feel him tense beside me before he sits up, tossing the covers to the side. My heart leaps into my chest.

What the hell?—

“That’s it,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve had it. I’ve been as understanding as I possibly could be with you, Lydia.”

I stare, my jaw unhinged, as he reaches for my wrist. I pull away, but I don’t stand a chance against a man as big and as powerful as he is. “I am done.”

I gasp as he sits heavily on the bed and drags me over his lap.

“What the hell?” I protest, even as my pulse skyrockets. “Viktor, what the fuck?—”

His hand slams against my backside hard and fast.

“I’ve been gentle. I’ve been understanding,” he continues, as his palm connects against my skin. My cheeks flame, but there’s something about the way he overpowers me that sends arousal coursing through me. I can hardly speak or think as heat blossoms in my belly, and a delicious warmth spreads between my legs.

I want to see what he does when I protest. When I fight him. When I don’t cave and roll over and show him the underside of my belly.

So I kick. I claw at his legs and yell, throwing my head back and hollering with everything I’ve got.

“You son of a bitch! You bastard. Let me up, or I’ll scream!”

He fists my hair, gathering the crazy lot of it in his massive hand before he tugs my head back. “Do it. If you don’t scream, I’ll get my belt and whip your perfect, pretty little ass until you do.”

“You bastard!” I scream. “Let me up!” I scream until I’m hoarse and my ears are ringing, earning me a low, dark chuckle from my captor.

“That’s what I was hoping for,” he says approvingly. In one fell swoop, he divests me of my clothes and bares my ass to him. The feel of his hot, heavy, calloused palm on my screaming hot backside sends bolts of arousal to my lady parts. My mouth is dry, and if he were to touch me right now, he’d find me sopping wet.

Something deep, deep inside me I can’t quite decipher whispers with delicious satisfaction… this.

This.

Him.

This.

I want to be taken. I want to be controlled. I want to be dominated and pushed, and when I push the fuck back, I don’t want him to crumple.

His palm slaps hard against the underside of my thigh, and it stings way worse than it did before. I whimper and squirm, trying to get away, but he pins me in place and spanks me again.

My breath catches in my throat, a mixture of fear and defiance surging through me. I struggle against him with everything I’ve got, my hands pushing at his strong, sturdy thighs, my body twisting in an attempt to break free. I almost actually wriggle out of his control, but he catches me, pins me in place, and growls, “You naughty little thing,” before he gives me three hard, stinging slaps in rapid succession.

“Viktor, no!” I scream, my voice trembling, even as a part of me thinks Yes, yes, THIS.

But his strength is overwhelming, his grip like iron as he holds me in place. Without a moment’s pause, he brings his hand down on my naked ass again, the sharp crack of the spank echoing in the room and mingling with my cries.

We’ve been dancing on the periphery of something, and I didn’t know what until this.

I fight harder, my struggles becoming more frantic, and somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, I think I should tell him to stop, but I don’t want to. It hurts like fuck, and I’m humiliated beyond belief, but I’ve never, in my entire life, been more turned on than I am now.

When the spanking continues, my defiance begins to wane, replaced by the utter need for pleasure.

“Viktor,” I plead, my voice softer this time. “Oh God. Okay, alright, I’m sorry.”

His palm pauses, poised above my ass. “Sorry for what? Say it.”

“Sorry for mouthing off to you.” His hand stills, his fingers lingering for a moment before gently rubbing my aching ass, soothing the sting his own palm inflicted.

“Are you going to mouth off to me again?” he asks, his voice dangerously low. “Or do we need to continue this?”

I pause only a moment before I reply. “Do you want the truth or a lie?”

“Lydia,” he growls.

“Okay, okay! I am absolutely going to do it again,” I admit, cringing for the next swat of his palm, but to my surprise, he chuckles and lets out a breath.

“You were honest. I fucking love that, baby,” he whispers. “You’re a good girl, Lydia. A good girl who needs an occasional reminder to behave herself. And good girls get rewarded, don’t they?”

I squirm on his lap. My breasts are pressed between his lap and the bed, my nipples dangerously hard.

“They do,” I whisper. “They totally fucking do.”

Leaning down, he whispers in my ear, “It’s a good thing I don’t punish you for that potty mouth of yours, or you’d be toast.”

“I so fucking would,” I agree with a nod. Because I’m a good girl. His good girl.

“Do you want to see what happens when you’re honest with me?”

“After you dominated me and spanked my ass? Ooohhh, yeah,” I whisper. “Please, please, please.”

He swats my sore ass. “Come here, baby. Give me that pussy. I’ll bet you're wet for me, aren’t you?” When he pushes my legs apart and touches my pussy, my pelvis convulses at the first touch of his finger.

“Oh fuck,” I moan. “Holy shit.”

“Someone liked her spanking.”

I moan. “Liked? More like loved. I loved my spanking.”

“Jesus. That means I’ll never be able to actually teach you to behave yourself,” he says, but the sly grin on his face tells me he’s not all that broken up by it.

He lifts me as easily as if I weigh nothing at all, lays me on the bed, and kneels before me.

“Oh God,” I whisper, my voice shaking.

“These are the rules. I’m going to eat your pussy. You earned this climax, and I fucking earned eating you out. You’re going to come on my tongue. If you decide you’re going to come before I give you permission, you’ll get spanked again, and I’ll make you wait. If you move your hands out of the position I put them in, I’ll tie you up and whip you again until you’re begging for mercy. In other words, if you want to come, baby, you’ll do what I fucking say.”

He fists my hair, his strong, masculine, utterly handsome face making my heartbeat racket higher. “Are we clear?”

“I don’t know about this,” I start, squirming when his eyes narrow on me. It was only seconds ago I was sprawled across his lap, getting my ass handed to me, so I’m more than a little afraid of that happening again.

“Don’t know about what?” he snaps, his gaze burning into mine with such ferocity I gulp.

“You… doing that… to me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” As if to punish me, he bends his head to my thigh and bites.

Bites me.

I scream and try to push him away when his tongue licks the place he just bit. I sit up and stare, half expecting to see blood. Why the fuck does that make me skate to the edge of climax? I try to push him away again, but he smacks my hands away and glares at me.

“Put those hands above your head and don’t fucking move them,” he growls, getting to his knees. “You like it rough, baby. I know that now.” He grins wickedly. “Lucky for you, so do I.”

I squeeze my eyes tight because even though I’m inexplicably scared, I want this. I want this so damn badly. It takes effort to keep my hands in place. I remind myself of what he said he’d do if I moved them.

I’ll tie you up and whip you again until you’re begging for mercy

Do I want that?

What?

I’m still aching from the spanking he gave me but more than a little curious about what being tied up and whipped would look like.

Gah.

I think I might swallow my tongue in the effort of shutting the fuck up.

“Good girl,” he says, his gaze locked on mine tells me he knows exactly what I’m tempted by, and he knows how hard I’m trying. “Keep them right fucking there.”

His hands come to my breasts, and he gives my nipples a hard tweak. I scream out loud, but just in time, remember to keep my hands where he put them.

“That’s a girl,” he says approvingly. “That’s right, baby.”

He pushes himself on the bed and bends his mouth to my nipples, laving one at a time with the warm, wet, flat of his tongue while he fingers my pussy. I squirm beneath him, but my hands stay in place, even when his teeth clamp down and he bites my nipple.

“Ahhh!” I scream. “Viktor!”

“Mmm, you taste so fucking good, and I haven’t even tasted your pussy yet.” He shakes his head. “Jesus fucking Christ, I did something good in my past life to deserve a woman like you,” he says reverently.

“Good thing I’m not punishing you for your mouth. You swear like you’re in a gang.”

He smirks at me. “I’d like to see you try.”

And then he’s gone, and I’m scared because all I see is the breadth of his shoulders casting my body into shadow and the top of his head between my legs.

And then I’m drowning, dying, finally actually living when his tongue meets my aching, throbbing clit. It feels like the heat of hell and the perfection of heaven all at once. I close my eyes and shiver as waves of pleasure consume me.

He growls and fists his cock, jerking his massive erection as he lazily drags his tongue along my swollen slit. My thoughts fizzle into vapor at the hot feel of his breath on my inner thighs. When his teeth graze my clit, I wriggle my wrists, but a swift slap to my thigh makes me pause.

“I told you what would happen,” he warns. “I’m eating you out, girl, and you’re obeying me. You got me?”

I nod, stifling the need to whimper or smack him. I swallow, my mouth dry. “Mhm.” I nod, eager for him to continue.

And then he’s back at my pussy, worshiping me with his tongue until I feel like I can hardly stand the pleasure. I’ve never come on a man’s face like this, and it somehow both terrifies and thrills me, but I couldn’t stop now if I wanted to.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he growls, pausing to scrape my thighs with his stubble. The prickles feel like a million little needles. He drags his chin just on the very edge of my swollen clit and I scream.

“Atta girl,” he says, his hot breath on my thighs. “That’s what I like to see. You have my permission, my good girl. Come on my mouth, baby. Let yourself go.”

And then he sinks back down to the floor and fists his cock. Somehow, hearing him give me permission makes the first spasm of pleasure course through me, but I’m scared. I hold my breath, unable to move past the need to come and actually allowing myself to get there.

I’ve never had a man bring me to climax before.

I’ve had sex and felt… passing pleasure… but I never felt that earth-shattering, freeing, absolute bliss I’ve read about in those romance novels my sister gave me.

I don’t even know what it’s like. I don’t even know what it is I’m chasing.

I feel so tightly wound I’m a string about to snap, but I can’t seem to get there. Every time I think I’m going to, I can’t seem to get there.

“Come, baby,” he orders. I sniff and shake my head. I didn’t even know I was crying.

Why am I crying?

“Lydia.” My eyes snap to his. “You can come. I gave you permission.”

I sniff hard. “I… I can’t.”

“Of course you can,” he says, lowering his mouth to my pussy again. “Relax, baby. Breathe into it. You need to get out of your head.”

I shake my head. “I can’t, Viktor.”

Staring at me, he finally asks me, “Why not?”

I look away. I don’t know how to answer that question.

Because I’m not worthy? Because I’m not pretty enough? Because letting myself climax means surrendering to him?

All of those things, maybe? I don’t know.

I can’t put it into words.

He strokes my inner thigh. “This is about trust.”

I shake my head. My breath hitches, my anger momentarily ebbing when I see a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “If I didn’t trust you, at least a little, you wouldn’t be kneeling in front of me with your mouth on my pussy.”

“Close your eyes, baby. Breathe with me.”

Hesitantly, I do what he says. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. His voice is a low, somehow soothing command.

“Imagine yourself powerful. Unstoppable. Imagine yourself in control of your body and your life and your happiness. Can you do that, baby?”

I nod, licking my lips and swallowing. My hips jerk when I feel the warm, wet press of his tongue on my clit again. He suckles hard and grips my thighs. My clit throbs.

“Now let yourself go. Let yourself surrender without shame. You deserve to feel pleasure. You deserve to let go.”

I feel his hands on my waist, a grounding touch that somehow makes my reserves crumble.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You can, baby. Imagine yourself surrounded by fire, but this fire isn’t destructive, it’s warm. It’s your safe place. Let it burn away any insecurities and fears you have. Let it consume everything but you.”

I nod.

“Alright,” I whisper as he bends his mouth to my sex and sucks again. A spasm of pleasure lights me up, its warmth and intensity making me squirm in delicious anticipation.

“Let it consume you. Trust in it. Trust in yourself.”

I feel a little of the tension I’m holding onto begin to ebb away. “Good girl. That’s it, Lydia. Let yourself go.”

I close my eyes and breathe. I imagine the room is filled with flames licking at us on all sides but not burning us. There’s something about the flicker and heat that calms me.

He grips my hips, lifts my legs, and straddles them over his shoulders. If I wanted to, I could crush his head with my thighs.

This, too, is an act of trust.

I close my eyes and focus on relaxing. Focus on the sensation. Something shifts in me, and I feel like that match to tinder. My low smolder grows to something more, something hotter, and I know I’ve reached the point of no return when my whole body goes up in flames.

“Oh God,” I scream, “yes!” Pleasure floods my limbs, and I’m totally consumed in the perfect feel of his mouth on my sensitive parts. I moan in pleasure as flames completely consume my body until I finally sink to the bed, spent.

He stands, fists his massive cock, and holds my gaze as he throws his head back and comes. Hot spurts of come paint my breasts, my belly, my thighs as he marks me as his, and for once… for once in my life, I think, he loves my body.

He loves what he sees.

He hasn’t been lying.

He loves my body.

I blink, coming down from my high as he leans over and presses his lips to my cheek. “You’re mine, Lydia,” he whispers in my ear. “You’re mine. Stay right here. I’m going to clean you up.”

The man who spanked me, scratched me with his beard, and bit my nipples was a different side of Viktor I hadn’t yet seen. He’s been nothing but tender to me, even when I pushed him until he finally snapped.

I stifle a whine when he gets up off the bed and walks to the bathroom. He comes back later with a small hand towel. When he wipes me with it, I’m reminded of the hot towels they wrap around my legs when I get pedicures at Mom’s. It’s warm and damp and feels incredibly soothing, smelling faintly of lavender.

I reach for it to help him, and he shakes his head with one curt nod. “Let me.”

After what he just did to me, I’ve somehow lost the ability to push back. I’m putty in his hands.

“You’d better enjoy this while it lasts,” I say. My voice sounds like it’s distant, out of my body, coming from someone else and not me.

“What?”

“My compliance.”

He grins at me. “Oh, I seem to have figured out a way to deal with this.”

My eyes are heavy and my body boneless as he lays me back on the pillows. “Get some rest, Lydia.”

I close my eyes and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

“You should get out of bed and get ready.”

“Why?”

“It's getting harder and harder to lie next to you and not fuck you,” he says, his teeth gritted together.

I’ve never had this power over anyone before.

“You don't trust yourself with me? That's interesting, isn't it? We should observe this as part of human nature.” I lean over and push myself up on one elbow.

He grunts and makes some sort of sound that is half between a growl and acquiescence before he slaps my ass. I squeal.

“Get dressed.”

“Do you say please, Viktor? Or do you just order people around?”

He quirks one eye open. Last night’s stubble grew to a dark shadow on his chin. I remember that stubble quite well…

In the morning light, I see the silver scar that runs from his forehead down his cheek.

“Let’s try. Please, get ready, my love,” he says in a sappy, unrecognizable voice. “Before I pin your wrist to this headboard and fuck you. I don't know how much longer I can last, so I’m warning you. Stepping away from me would probably be in your best interest. I'm not sure if you remember anything about yesterday, but I only have so much self-control.” His eyes narrow. “Was that better, doll?”

I actually swallow a giggle. “Much.”

Am I letting him get to me? I walk to the bathroom, grab some clothes, and quickly change.

My hair is crazy from the day before, but I'm starving. I blame the adrenaline. So I pin my hair up in this crazy bun on top of my head like a ballerina, wash my face with some of the excellent skincare products Polina picked out, brush my teeth, and slap on some quick makeup.

She's chosen a little white peasant top that accentuates my curves in all right ways, slimming my waist and accentuating my breasts. Comfortable, stretchy jeans that are wide and go all the way to the floor. I'm still wearing these slippers because they're so comfy, but I guess I'll have to wear shoes, too.

Viktor’s changed into gray sweats and a white tee. Hot damn. What is it about a white tee and gray sweats that just do it for me? There's something just… manly and sexy and raw about it. Especially the way he fills those out.

“We have a couple of interesting developments. We’ll talk it out over breakfast.” Frowning, he reaches for my hand. “Did you cut yourself?”

I look down. I think I did it yesterday at the warehouse, but I don't want him to feel bad.

Why? Why the hell do I care whether he feels bad or not? It was his fault that I was at the warehouse.

I shrug. “It’s fine. I don't know how I cut it.”

“Does it hurt?” he asks in a gentle voice that makes a lump rise in my throat.

I swallow it hard. God, I'm fucked up.

“No, it's fine,” I lie. Because when he brushes the top of his finger against it, I wilt.

“Liar,” he says, his tone rough. “Sit on the bed.”

He stalks off barefoot to the bathroom and comes back with a Band-Aid and some type of cleansing wipe.

“Viktor, I'm fine,” I say. Jesus, what would he do if I actually hurt myself? This is practically a paper cut.

Quietly, he bends on one knee, reaches for my hand and frowns, his eyebrows flashing together as he cleans little cuts on my skin before he opens the Band-Aid carefully and slides it on my hand. When he's done, he crumples the papers and lifts my hand to his lips.

But he doesn’t stop there.

He kisses the top of my wrist. My forearm. He keeps going until he’s gone the length of my arm, the warm, erotic touch of his mouth making my belly squirm deliciously.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he says reverently before he says the last thing I expect him to.

“Marry me?”

I can't help it. My heart turns in my chest. I'm only human, after all. And there's something about this powerful, dangerous man who only goes soft for me that's making me swoon a little.

Timur wouldn't have put a Band-Aid on my wound.

Goddamn, I can't think of that asshole now.

“I suppose you’ll do,” I say in what I attempt to be a haughty tone, but instead, it comes out all breathy. I need to change the subject. “What are these developments?”

“I’ll tell you after coffee.”

“Ah, so you’re one of those guys who’s a bear until he’s had his coffee.”

He growls as if he’s incapable of speech until that caffeine hits his veins.

I love this kitchen. I won't tell him because I don't want to give him the satisfaction. It's all stainless steel appliances, high-end stuff like a chef might have, immaculate, clean, and filled with bright light, possibly the brightest room in his whole house. He walks over to the counter, which he has set up with a little coffee station. I squeal. This is perfect, like something you'd find on a Pinterest board.

“This thing makes caramel vanilla lattes? Are you kidding?”

He shrugs. “I’m well stocked.”

He knows my favorite things. Is he trying to seduce me?

How much does he really know about me?

He grunts, takes out the cup, and slides it under the Keurig. “I got that for you.” He doesn't look at my eyes.

I take it from him gratefully.

“What do you drink?”

“Espresso.”

“Straight black?”

“Mmm.”

Of course.

If he has my favorite coffee creamer in that goddamn fridge—he opens it, takes out the matte-white creamer bottle, and slides it across the counter to me. “Vera told me what you like. It's good stuff. Of course you like it.”

I'm not sure what that means. He hands me my latte and makes his espresso.

Nikita comes up to me and licks my hand. “You're such a pretty girl.” I bend to scratch her ears. She does that thing that dogs do, unable to hide this near bliss she has when I scratch her ears. Her eyes go half lidded, and her ears go back. “Such a pretty, pretty girl,” I croon. I love her.

Viktor sips his espresso, his eyes burning into me.

“What? I can't scratch her ears?”

“You have to stop putting motives behind my looks; it isn't fair, and you don't know me.”

When he turns away, I snort. “Oh, that's right. Hello, pot calling the kettle black.”

Frowning, he walks over to a white pastry box on the counter and takes out a pastry bigger than his hand, drizzled in white sugar and sliced almonds. My mouth waters.

“What? I'm not doing that to you. I mean, isn’t that what you’re doing to me?”

“Assigning motives to someone and understanding what they're thinking are two completely different things, Lydia.”

I stand and walk away from him to assess the situation.

I take a frying pan and slide it onto his stove. He has one of those fancy flat induction things. Heat instantly springs to the pan. I throw a pat of butter in, and when it's nice and hot and sizzling, I slide bacon into the pan. I fry eggs and bacon, drain it all, and put it on a plate with a sprinkle of kosher salt and fresh pepper.

He watches me, sipping his espresso. “Don't get used to this,” I warn him. “I'm just starving, and I like your kitchen.”

He only shrugs.

He takes the pastry out of the box and puts it on a plate. We eat in almost amiable silence. Almost.

The food hits my belly, and it's delicious. I eat until I’m full then push my plate away.

“Now, are you ready to tell me about the new developments?”

He eats an egg with one bite, chomps, and swallows, as if it's his life mission to eat with efficiency, slaps butter on four slices of toast, eats all the bacon on the plate, and then reaches for my discarded plate and finishes everything on that.

Shit.

But I guess you have to feed a man like that well. He’s a big guy.

Viktor wipes his mouth and looks at me, his gaze intense. “We couldn't find him.”

My heart skips a beat. “What do you mean you couldn't find him?”

“Our contacts, everyone we have on the ground… He's gone. Disappeared. No trace.”

I stare at him, processing the information. “Isn't that good? He can't hurt us if he’s gone.”

Viktor shakes his head slowly. “It’s not that simple. The fact that he vanished means he might have powerful help. And he might come back when we least expect it.”

Fear coils in my stomach, but I try to keep my voice steady. “So what do we do now?”

His eyes darken. “We stay vigilant. I'll increase security around you and Vera. We can't afford to take any chances. I got you a new phone, and you’ll keep it on you at all times.”

I nod, feeling the weight of his words. His protectiveness is overwhelming, suffocating, but a part of me is grateful. For now, I’m under his watch, and there's a twisted sense of safety in that.

“We’ll heighten security. I’ll train you in self-defense.”

I swallow. “Alright. And what if it doesn’t work?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if you don’t find him? What if he…”

I can’t say it aloud.

What if he kills me?

“That won’t happen because it’s not an option.”

He threads his fingers through my hair. “I promise.”