Chapter 14: Mikhail

“I heard you in the shower,” the princess mumbles, looking me over cautiously.

Always careful.

She takes in my muscle and the tattoos I know freak her out. I’m not sure if she knows all their meanings, but I saw her looking at my knuckles this morning. If she guessed the tattoos of rings on my fingers were prison tats, she was completely right.

The tattoos she needs to be afraid of aren’t my prison ones, though.

It’s the Bratva leadership ones on my shoulders and chest which tell her what kind of monster I am. I’m covered, so that should give her a good guess.

Or maybe she knows. Monster was what she called me yesterday.

She wasn’t wrong.

“Why didn’t you join me?” I taunt. As expected, she looks thrown by the question, and even in the dim light I can make out the rosy flush in her cheeks.

“I bathed already, thanks.”

She swallows hard when my eyes drop to her heaving breasts in the camisole top clinging to her body. The left strap slinks down the smooth skin of her shoulder, inviting me to touch and taste her.

I accept the invite, but when I move closer, she sits up defensively, her delicate hands clutching the sheet to cover her chest as if she can hide those tits from me. I almost laugh, and few things amuse me.

Does she really think a bedsheet can protect her from me?

Or stop me from looking at her body?

Or maybe she’s hiding because she wants to conceal the arousal evident in her tight little nipples. The razor-sharp peaks are pressing against the flimsy bedsheet.

Even if her body weren’t betraying her, I have the memory of this morning and the way I made her body bow to my touch and command. Like it or not, she’s attracted to me, and she’s just as screwed by that ripple of attraction between us as I am.

The difference between us is, when I want something, I take it. I don’t fight against my natural primal desires.

“You look like you were crying,” I state and give her a curious look.

“I’m fine.”

As I take in her long fingers, I think for the first time about what must have happened to her engagement ring. I never saw one.

I don’t remember her wearing one when I first saw her, and not when the guards took her to the dungeons. I would imagine that’s something she would have been required to wear since the engagement was announced months before the assassination attempt.

“What happened to your ring?” I ask. The question sounds weird considering we weren’t talking about that.

“What ring?”

“The engagement ring Felipe gave you.”

Her cheeks flush. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s scared or embarrassed.

“I lost it a few days before… before the incident. I was going to get fitted for another one after the rehearsal.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

I keep my gaze trained on her while I take the towel off me. Her eyes drop to my dick, erect and ready to fuck her.

“Stand up and take your clothes off,” I tell her.

With trembling hands, she slides off the bed and obeys. I know the quickness in her movements and her willingness is down to being scared of what I might do to José. It fucking irritates me, but I tamp down my rage.

She lifts her top over her head, unleashing the beautiful heft of her breasts.

The pajama bottoms and panties come off next, and just like in Mexico, she stands naked before me. This was what I wanted this morning.

Her just like this.

I still can’t get over how perfect she is. The only differences between us being in Mexico and tonight are that she doesn’t smell like death and the moonlight shining down on her skin is mine.

Not hers in the land of her father.

“What are we doing?” she asks.

“What do you think we’re doing, Malyshka? I told you we’d be finishing what we started this morning.”

She doesn’t answer, but the tremor in her hands is all I need to see to know how afraid she is. Her body is humming with fear.

That’s not enough to stop me from taking what I want. I feed off fear and crave it.

Pain, however, is something else entirely.

The pain in her eyes does something to me I never expected. Seeing it right in front of me instead of through the lens of a camera has more of an impact on me, and nothing usually does, because it grips me.

My fucking mouth is watering to taste her, and arousal is clawing through me, begging me to claim her.

But… the pain I witness tamps down the desire of the villain in me and beckons to the parts of me that are still human.

I want to fuck her and get the fantasy out of my system, but I don’t want to take her like this.

When I take her, I want to be the master of her body, not fear or pain.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to act like a saint and do nothing. Definitely not after the taste I had of her.

I have no shortage of things to teach my virgin bride.

There are plenty of things to train her in.

“Lie on the bed and spread your legs for me,” I tell her. Her eyes dart nervously back to the bed.

She looks like she wants to say something but thinks better of it.

Good girl. She’s learning quickly to obey and not defy me.

Bringing her hands together, she gets back on the bed, and a spike of heat ignites low in my gut.

I turn the light brighter so I can get a good look at the beauty as she lies back on the stack of pillows and spreads her legs for me.

I swear I see heaven when I rivet my eyes to her pretty, pink pussy and trail my gaze up the length of her body.

Everything about her begs me to touch her. From the silkiness of her skin to the ripe peaks of her delicious mounds.

So, I do, appeasing my hunger for her.

I position myself between her legs, and I commend her for not taking her eyes off me.

She shouldn’t. It’s not smart to take your eyes off a predator. That’s the moment you get caught in his trap and he’ll fuck you over forever.

I move to the side of her neck and press my lips to skin softer than I imagined. Filling my hands with her breasts, I squeeze and roll her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers.

When I kiss my way down to her breasts and take her left nipple into my mouth, a low moan slips past her lips. It’s a helpless sound speaking of her inner battle to resist the pleasure I know I’m giving her.

I suck harder and start alternating from one breast to the other, unleashing a chorus of ecstatic moans she tries to force back, yet fails miserably.

I give her a wicked smile she hates. As she moves her hand to cover her mouth, I grab it and pin her hands above her head.

“Fucking stop acting like you don’t like what I’m doing to you,” I grate out.

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

One hard thrust of my fingers into her pussy makes her come undone and come all over my fingers, writhing against my touch.

“I’ve barely touched you, and look at you. You like this.”

“I… don’t.”

“You like me doing this to you.”

I pump in and out of her pussy, loving the suction sound her juices make around my fingers.

“Ahhhh…. Stop… I can’t. It’s too much.”

“Too good,” I correct her.

“Mikhail.” Her back arches off the bed, and she presses into my fingers, her hips moving against my hand as I give her more pleasure. “Mikhail!”

My name on her lips sounds like music to my soul. I want to hear it again and again.

She says it again, and I release her hands so I can go down on her.

The moment I slip my tongue past her pussy lips and slide into her passage, I get drunk on the taste of her. The scent of feminine pleasure fills me, and I lick up her arousal, taking as much as I can get into my mouth.

Fuck, she tastes amazing. And I realize she’s not resisting anymore. She’s taking the same way I am.

As I eat out her pussy, licking and sucking her clit, she takes it, and I feel her desire for me to give her more.

I give her more and more until I have her coming again all over my face.

Her scent and her arousal drive me insane.

This is my kink. I love smelling the awakening of a woman’s body to pleasure and the taste of how stimulated she becomes.

With virgins, though, the scent is somewhat different. There’s something primal in the scent that makes it feel like it belongs to you forever.

Nothing will change the fact that I’ll be the first man to touch her, and her scent and arousal in this moment all belong to me.

The princess is so receptive to my touch, I can’t wait to see how she responds to my darker tastes.

When my dick hardens to the point of bursting, I know I need to finish. No fucking way am I going to embarrass myself like some teenaged boy.

She looks at me as I release her and stroke my cock.

“You know what comes next, baby girl,” I say, fisting my length. “Get on your hands and knees and suck my dick.”

Her eyes round, and embarrassment flushes her cheeks again, but she doesn’t argue.

She moves toward me, settling down on her hands and knees, and takes my dick into her mouth.

I know I’m not going to last. I’ve been hard all day, and her mouth on me feels too good.

I don’t allow myself to savor the feeling of her sucking me like she did nights before. Instead, I unleash the beast and start fucking her face.

I pound into her mouth, grabbing a fistful of her hair when she holds on to my thighs and sucks harder, and still I want her to take me deeper. I thrust in deep. Tears run down her cheeks, but she takes what I give her.

“Harder,” I groan, and she sucks harder and faster.

Pleasure sets my body on fire, and I come. A white-hot climax rips through me, and I roar like a beast devouring its prey.

My cum sprays into her mouth, and she continues to suck. Tonight, I don’t have to tell her to swallow it. She automatically does, milking every last drop of cum from me, then licking me off.

We’re both breathing hard when she finishes.

I let go of her hair, and she straightens. We stare at each other, both uncertain of what to say or do next.

It takes me a moment to get my head together and regain the shift in power—regain my control over her.

Fear returns to her eyes, and she reaches for the sheet to cover herself as if we didn’t just devour each other like animals. Me on her and her on me.

She tasted me like she needed to. Now that the sexual haze has cleared, she’s remembering she needs to be wary of me.

“Lie down,” I tell her.

“What?”

“I said, lie down.”

She lies down, rolling onto her side with her back facing me. As her hair shifts across her back, something on her skin catches my eye. Something I never saw before.

It’s a few faint lines across her back. They’re pale and barely there, but still there. I count three like that and another possible one underneath, but half of it is so blended in with her skin it’s hardly noticeable.

I just notice things like that. I didn’t notice the marks in Mexico because her hair covered them up.

I know what they look like, but I find it hard to believe what they are.

Whip marks.

Would Raul have done that to her?

Whip her?

They’re old scars, so I can’t imagine Felipe did it.

“Who hit you?” I ask outright.

“What?” She glances over her shoulder.

“Who did this to you?”

Her lips part when I run my fingers over the lines I can see.

“It’s from an accident when I was younger. I fell into a hedge and scratched myself.”

She’s lying. I can tell she is from the unsteadiness in her eyes, but I don’t allow her to see I know she isn’t telling the truth.

The only reason she could be lying is to protect something. And that something must be her fucking dead father.

It could only be him who did that to her. I just don’t know why she would want to protect his name.

Maybe it’s not that.

Maybe it’s something else.

Something I’m not going to figure out tonight.

“Oh, right,” I answer and decide to put her out of her misery, and myself, too, when I switch off the light.

Now all we have is the sliver of moonlight shining through the crevice of the curtains. I can just about see her. I lie next to her, reaching for the covers to pull them over us.

Knowing it will jar her nerves, I slip my arm around her tiny waist and pull her closer to me so her back is pressed against my chest.

“Relax, Malyshka.” I press my lips to the shell of her ear.

“How can I relax when I don’t know what you’re going to do to me?” she mumbles in the dark.

“You relax because I tell you to. I’m not going to fuck you tonight unless you want me to. Your body feels like you want me, but your eyes tell me something else.”

“I’m tired,” she whispers after a moment’s pause.

It’s a good answer, because she’s not sure what I’ll do if she says no. Our encounter earlier changed things up a little, and she’s more afraid of me than she was before.

“Then sleep, Malyshka.”

We lie just like this in silence until she falls asleep.

I don’t sleep, however. I barely sleep most nights, anyway. The days of being in that coma put me off sleeping.

I’m not normal, I know I’m not, and I know I never will be. It’s situations like the one I’m in that make me the way I am.

Right now, I hate how vague everything is.

The only thing that’s not vague is the attraction I feel for the beautiful woman lying in my arms.

We feel like a surrealist painting where nothing makes sense. And yet it does to those who know how to make sense of it.

I just can’t make sense of her.