Chapter 16

"Get out of those pajamas," he orders with a flick of his fingers in my direction.

"No." I scoot to the other side of the bed and slide off until my feet are planted firmly on the floor.

He stares at me, dark eyes swirling with irritation.

"All right." He gives a nod and for a second I think he's going to back off. He's realized he's been an ass for keeping the facts from me, and he's going to give me space.

I really should know better at this point.

He steps up onto the bed as though it's no higher than a single step, walks over to my side, and jumps down in front of me. I have to jump back to keep from getting landed on.

In one single motion he has his belt off and has my wrists pinned together in front of me. No amount of fighting him is working.

"You're making it worse," he tells me as he drags me back around the bed to the post at the bottom.

"Let me go." I yank downward, but he's too strong and the belt is wrapped tightly around my wrists. I'm not getting out of this yet.

He pins me to the bedpost and pulls my wrists over my head. When he steps back, I try to bring my arms down, but I'm stuck.

There's a hook that's been painted to blend in with the wood above my head and he's hung me from it.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it." He grabs the neckline of my t-shirt and rips it, tearing the entire shirt down the middle.

"Sergei!" I try to shove him away with my foot, but he easily sidesteps my kick.

The toe of his boots touches the tips of my toes as he leans over me. His fingers slip between the elastic of my pants and my stomach.

"I like these pants," I say in hopes to save them from the same fate as my shirt.

He pulls something from his pocket and brings it up to my nose. A press of a button and a blade shoots out.

A knife.

Will he kill me because I refused to listen to him?

He'll probably get to keep his inheritance if I'm dead.

"Sergei, don't." My plea comes out in a whisper.

The blade of the knife is warm as it presses flat between my breasts. Slowly, he drags it down my torso, making me suck in my stomach when he gets that low.

He turns the knife, so that the tip points downward as he slides it between the elastic of my pants and my body. I hold still, afraid to move for fear of getting cut by the blade as it easily slices through the material.

He moves the weapon to my hip and cuts through the material there as well as the other side. The pants drop down to my ankles.

Picking up the discarded pants with the knife, he holds them in front of me.

"What should I do to my naughty wife who throws things at my head?" He flicks the pants away and taps the flat of the blade against his cheek while he pretends to think.

"I'm sorry I threw it." I tug harder on my wrists but somehow the binding gets tighter, not looser.

"You're sorry you missed," he retorts.

"Was I supposed to be happy you kept that from me? You used my mother against me?" I twist, but all that happens is my wrists start to burn.

He grabs my chin, his fingertips digging into my cheeks, and drags my face to his.

"Your mother is not a weapon to be used against you. Not by me." His expression is stone hard. I believe him.

"All right." I stop pulling on my wrists. "I'm sorry about the glass then."

His eyes soften, but there's something more sinister lurking in his expression. He's not going to let me off the hook that easily.

"Now that I have you naked and bound to my bed, what should I do to you?" He lets me go and takes a large step back. His eyes rake over my body like he's contemplating where to start.

He closes the knife and stuffs it back into his pocket.

"Let me go to sleep because it's late?" I ask stupidly.

He doesn't even respond.

"Are you going to hurt me?" I whisper the question and even I can't tell if it's because I want him to or because I'm afraid he will.

Button by button he opens his shirt, yanks it from his pants, and sheds the garment.

Fucking hell to heaven. The man is nothing but muscle and tattoos. He could rip my head clear off my neck if he wanted to.

"No more than you'll enjoy."

"You're not going to punish me then?" Why do I sound so disappointed?

"I didn't say that."

I clench my legs closed, trying to ease the pressure building inside. My ache for him only gets worse when he gives me his back as he walks to the closet. It's only about ten feet away, but that's long enough for me to see his muscles working beneath the black ink and battle scars that litter his torso.

When he comes back, he's only in a pair of black boxers. A belt swings from his left hand as he makes his way back to me.

I'm silent as he comes to stand in front of me.

"Turn around," he directs.

"How can I?" I look up at my wrists.

"You can turn. Do it. I want your ass facing me." He folds the thick leather belt in half and tucks the buckle into the palm of his right hand.

"You don't have to use that," I say quietly, my eyes moving to the leather beast.

"I want to." He arches a brow. "Why are you still facing me?"

I take my time, as though it will matter at all, as I turn around until I can rest my head against the post. The belt around my wrists tightens a little with my new position, but it's quickly forgotten when fire lights up across my ass cheeks.

I scream out and rise to my toes.

"I wasn't ready!"

"I know," he says, and I think he's happy about that. The belt comes down again.

I suck in air and release it with another cry as I'm lashed again.

He crosses the lashes over each other without mercy.

I hop from foot to foot, trying to twist away from the hell he's raining down on me, but he's too practiced. He never misses, and each lash of the belt lands precisely.

Just as the pain crescendos and the fog of pleasure starts to build, he stops.

I gulp in air, turning my head enough to see him watching me.

He drops the belt he's holding to the floor and steps up to me, pressing his body against mine. His cock, thick and long, pushes against my ass. While the burn of his belt still lingers, the urgency the pain has given me makes me lean into him.

"Such a naughty girl tonight." His voice rakes over my ear just before he nips my earlobe.

He runs his hands down my sides, over my hips and in front of me until he finds my slick sex.

"You enjoy my punishments too much, I think." He bites down on my shoulder, and I hiss, but he's right. My pussy tightens at the sharpness of his teeth.

"I'm an adult, you shouldn't punish me," I try to defend, but one hand has slid between my thighs and his fingertips trail over my clit.

"I will always punish you, Cora. And you will love it. Even when you hate it." He thrusts a finger into me, and I lean back against him. The heel of his hand presses into my clit as he finger fucks me.

I bite down on my lip, sure he's going to use my body against me.

"I'm going to take you down now, and you're going to bend over the bed like a good girl for me." With his free hand he reaches up to where my wrists are hanging from the hook.

"And if I don't?" It's a tease.

Obviously, I've lost my mind.

"You will." He unbinds my wrists and takes his finger from my body. Immediately I regret his departure.

And he's right.

It only takes a small pat on my ass to get me moving before I slide around the bed to his side.

He leaves the belt behind as he comes to stand behind me, sliding his hand into my hair. The burn on my scalp as he pulls brings another level of pleasure.

"Over, Cora." He pushes me down to my forearms, wrapping one arm around my middle and pulling my ass higher into the air until I'm on my toes.

The fat head of his cock presses against my entrance and I close my eyes, waiting for the relief only his body can give me.

"Give me your hand." He takes my hand and places it over my clit. "Play with yourself for me. While I fuck you and make you mine."

I don't argue that he's already claimed me as his.

My fingers become slick with my own desire as he presses them against my clit.

One swift thrust and he's fully embedded inside me.

I freeze. It's different at this angle. I'm fuller.

The stretch burns.

"Fuck." He presses my hand harder to my body, increasing the speed as we both rub my clit together. "Your pussy looks so fucking beautiful stretched around my cock. So fucking pretty."

"It… Sergei, it hurts like this." I start to stand up, but his hand in my hair yanks and he shoves me forward.

"A second, Cora. Give your body a second to accept me."

His fingers lace between mine and it's his skin on my clit now, rubbing in circles while he slowly pulls his cock back. Just when I'm sure he's going to leave me, he thrusts forward again.

He mutters something in Russian and lets go of my hand, using both hands now to hold my hips as he plows into me harder and faster.

The pain melts into a pool of arousal and I meet each thrust with my own.

He's taken over now.

My mind is lost to the pleasure he gives, and my body has completely fallen under his authority.

I've never found this position pleasureful. It's always been a way to get my boyfriend to finish faster, but not with Sergei.

Every movement, every touch makes me want him more. Needing everything he can give me; I lift my right knee up to the bed.

"Fuck!" he growls. "So fucking tight." His hand moves over my ass, and he pulls my ass cheeks apart. The pad of his thumb presses against my asshole and I clench tight.

"No, naughty girl." He pinches my skin and pushes harder until he's past the tight ring of muscle.

A new pain.

A new pleasure ricochets through my body.

"Soon, I'm taking you here," he promises as he pushes up to a knuckle. "Your ass will suck my cock as greedily as your pussy does." He thrusts harder into me.

My eyes roll with the thought.

"Such a good girl now, right? You're my good girl now." He plows harder.

He reaches between me and the bed, brushing away my hand. He takes my clit between his fingers, pinching hard until I'm screaming.

Not from the pain.

From the orgasm ripping through my body, stealing my sanity.

Only when I'm voiceless does he pull his finger from my ass to grip my hips harder. He holds me down against the mattress and fucks me even harder. I didn't think it was possible to feel so powerless and strong at the same time.

He thrusts again and again and then stills over me.

A roar, worthy of any king of the jungle, fills the room as he finds his own release.

It's a moment later that I feel him slide from me.

"Stay here, don't move," he orders softly. A heartbeat later, a warm washcloth is pressed against me. He gently cleans me, and wipes between my ass cheeks too.

My face flames with embarrassment.

"I can do that." I start to reach behind me, but he only grunts to put me back in line.

I'm too tired now to fight with him, so I let him finish washing me. When he's done, I climb into bed and under the covers I left over an hour ago to say good night to him.

The bed dips when he climbs in. I roll to my side, unsure if I want to see his face or not, and he pulls me into him. My bare ass presses against his hard body.

He kisses me behind my ear. It's a gentle kiss, something I wouldn't think he'd be capable of, considering how hard he was fucking me only minutes ago.

"I'm sorry I threw the glass," I whisper into the darkness of the room.

He grunts.

"Will it be like this for the entire year?" I ask.

He wraps his arm tighter around me.

"Go to sleep, Cora." He nuzzles my hair.

"Don't you think we should put some boundaries in place?"

"No."

"It might be a good idea."

He rolls me to my back and hovers over my face, brushing my hair away.

"There are no boundaries with us," he says. "And if you try to put them up, I will tear them down."

His jaw clenches after he speaks.

I only nod. There's no sense in arguing tonight.

I have a year to figure out how I'm going to get out of this mess without getting my heart trampled on.

He may not want boundaries, but there has to be.

I won't survive him otherwise.