Chapter 8

NATALIA.

I ate too much that I ended up going to the bathroom at least four times during the night, or maybe it was that Tomas’s and my conversation on the beach last night had affected me more than I wanted to admit. I woke up with a stomach ache and was in dire need of a shower. I didn’t remember how I ended up in bed, nor did I care if I was wearing my nightshirt. And I was pretty sure of one thing—I wasn’t the one who changed my clothes.

After I headed to the bathroom, I looked around, and as far as I could tell, I was alone. He wasn’t here, and I should be grateful, or at least worry-free, about him not seeing me in my nightshirt.

It was silly because he was the one who changed my clothes. The idea of a man seeing me naked made me feel self-conscious about my body. All the flaws, which I assumed were part of growing up, were observed by another. It was weird and exciting at the same time.

As I entered the bathroom, I locked the door. And then didn’t hesitate in getting the shower running. Once the hot water came on and the steam filled up the room, I hopped in. A habit from living in Russia. The house wasn’t cold, but I was used to always making sure that the shower heated as much as possible. I tilted my head back as the water ran over me. It felt like heaven as it tickled my body and memories of the night entered my mind.

As soon as he left the house for his jog, I tried to eat as much of the ice cream and brownie as possible, and I had more red wine. I'd just finished the last glass when he came in from his jog or wherever he'd been doing outside.

I staggered to the sofa, where he caught me in his arms. Then he held on to me and helped me to my room.

Yes, I made a fool of myself, and if anyone was there that I knew, I would be embarrassed. But no one was there. It was just him and me. I shouldn’t even be thinking that way when I was here against my will.

Something I had to keep reminding myself.

I turned off the water and hopped out of the shower. I dried myself, then I wrapped a towel around my body. With my hair damp and forgetting to bring my clothes into the shower, I opened the door abruptly.

Boredom.

That’s what I was feeling right now. That’s what happened when I was up and found myself having nothing to do, which was why I preferred to be sleeping or, even better, eating.

I never understood the term “comfort eating” until now. I left the bathroom, turned the corner, and slammed right into him.

“Oww!” I cried out because the force of his body against mine not only hurt me but my towel fell, leaving me naked in front of him.

He looked at me with hungry eyes that froze me in place and heated me all at the same time.

He wanted me. Craved me. As much as I did him. Not to pass the time, but he baked the brownie and made me a special meal. I wasn’t an expert on kidnapping, but it was clear he was attracted to me.

My heart raced out of control as he bent down to pick up my towel. He held it in his hand while his gaze roamed my body.

“You dropped this,” he growled.

I moved closer to him. I’d never seduced anyone in my life, but the way his eyes widened and how his hands clutched the towel made me feel wet between the legs.

My nipples were erect, and I held my head high. He looked as if he’d been chopping wood or something as he wiped the sweat from this temple.

“You look hot,” I said.

“I am. This isn’t why you’re here.”

I tilted my head to the side, hoping what had started wouldn’t come to a dramatic end. He had to make the next move. I couldn’t do it for him. I wouldn’t. My first time wouldn’t be from being kidnapped by him and then seducing him too.

His hand touched the side of my face. His fingers felt rough, and I should have pulled away as he caressed my face, but the idea of him being a man who got his hands dirty just turned me on even more.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Then he cupped my face and drew me closer. I closed my eyes in anticipation.

“Shit,” he said, his voice low and uneven, “I want you so bad…”

“So what are you waiting for?” I replied, thinking I was going to run out of patience if he didn’t go for it. If he didn’t do what we were both desperate for him to do.

He flung the towel to the floor and lifted me up into his arms. I opened my eyes and he carried me to his room. A room that I’d never entered. He dropped me on the bed and I pushed up on my elbows, checking out the space. There was nothing but his bed, a recliner, and a dresser. Not even any pictures on the walls or a bookshelf.

He moved slowly onto the bed, I waited in anticipation, my heart was beating out of control until his tongue stroked my neck, and I let out a quiet, slow moan. I needed some loving and attention from anyone, even if it was my captor. I didn’t know enough about relationships to know why I was attracted to him.

Maybe it was the scar that ran down the side of his face that made me want him because it made him appear vulnerable. He licked his lips as I moved to make myself comfortable on the bed. Then he took off his shirt in one quick swoop. His athletic frame was mine for the taking, and I couldn’t get over his perfect form. He had worked out a whole hell of a lot since I’d seen him last which was only a few months ago when I left Russia. Then, in slow motion, he lifted one leg and the next to get rid of his pants. His cock sprang into action as it jumped up once his pants were removed.

He didn’t wear boxers to contain the beast in front of me.

I’d never seen a guy naked, but the idea of something so big, and long should have scared me. But if anything, it just made me feel even more excited and a bit nervous.

He swooped on top of me and devoured my mouth like a starving man. His kiss was rough and primal. Something foreign to me, never having been with a man before, and a small panic welled inside my chest.

I patted him on the shoulder as I tried to gasp for air. When he looked down at me, I smiled, splaying my hand against his chest. “No need to be so rough. We’re not in a hurry, are we?” My voice was shaky and I hoped he didn’t suspect my innocence because I didn’t want him to stop. No matter how terrified I was of having sex for the first time. But there was a tension between us that had only grown since our encounter back at the cafe.

Our kisses grew slower and more thoughtful, reminding me of our first kiss and how after that, when I touched myself, I thought of him. Of how I couldn’t get his kiss, or what it would be like to be with him, out of my mind.

He moved to the side, and I moved along with him. He looked into my eyes, and he gently caressed my hair with his fingers. My nipples were hard and erect, waiting for him to touch them, or even better, to lick them.

He ran his fingers down my waist and cupped my butt. My breathing intensified as he gently used his finger to trace under my bottom. He withdrew from there and moved in between my legs. He slowly inserted and removed his finger over and over, all while looking at me and nothing else. I opened my legs. I was so wet. I wanted him to make love to me, and the hornier I was becoming, the more my patience began to wear out.

I’d never wanted a guy this much. Was it because of the danger he represented?

“Close them,” he commanded as I tried to widen them. I did as he said. He then used his thumb to press against the top of my pussy while using his finger to continue to move in and out of me. I curled my toes as I arched my back and panted. He knew I was hungry for him, yet he was tormenting me. Then he came closer, close enough that my erect nipple was touching his, which was also hard. I wanted to suck it. I wanted to lick it, but I was under strict orders, and I knew if I disobeyed, he would stop.

He moved to the foot of the bed and watched me. I thought he was going to put something inside of me, hoping he would do something to relieve the tension that was burning up my body. I looked at him, confused about his motives and what he was about to do.

Without any explanation, he walked across the room and sat in the armchair.

What the fuck?

“I want you to do what you did the other night in the bathroom. Make yourself come.”

Bewilderment and horniness set in.

His crooked smile had my heart hammering in my chest. I was more turned on than I ever had been before and I wasn’t afraid to be sexual with him. I hadn’t had my medicine, and the idea of being sexual used to frighten me, but with him, all I did was crave him like a tormented slave freeing themselves from chains. I put my fingers inside me, all the while keeping my gaze focused on him. I did not for one moment stop watching him.

“Slowly,” he growled.

I touched my nipples, which only made me need his hard dick inside me more. I could see his dick jerking the more I fondled myself, and it was turning me on. It was driving me wild as it twitched up and down, and I thought about it going deep inside me. I felt drunk or high or both. This was something I’d never done in front of anyone before, and desire was building inside me to a raging inferno. I wanted to come. Yet, I wanted him to go mad with lust watching me. He’d given me the power, something most guys I’d dated had never offered, and that made me even hornier.

Suddenly, I felt my tightness becoming more and more intense as I put one finger, then two, and then three inside my heat. I met his gaze as I moved my fingers in and out at a steady but slow pace. His breathing was becoming faster and faster and I could tell he was as turned on as I was. Yet, he still didn’t get out of that damn chair and fuck me.

With each flick of my fingers, I felt my orgasm getting closer and closer, until finally a few moments later, I exploded in a fit of pleasure, moaning his name out loud.

He walked toward me and my breathing hitched. Still, he had that crooked grin on his face, and I felt my cheeks flush.

“Good girl,” he said, then he kissed me passionately on the lips.

Any other time, I’d have told him off for saying that, but I was desperate for more, for him. His fingers traced over my clit and I moaned into his mouth.

He was gentle but firm, and he knew what he was doing as he eased a finger into me and then another. He pressed harder, and I gasped as I felt the pleasure move through me. I begged for more, and he gave it to me. His touch was unyielding, and I was completely at his mercy.

The way he made me feel, the way I was completely under his control, was exquisite. I was addicted to the way he was able to make me feel and the way he could keep me on the edge of pleasure without ever pushing me too far. The more I melted into his touch, the more I wanted him so I could ride the pleasure he was giving me merely with his fingers. I wanted more.

I grasped his shoulders, trying to hang on, as another orgasm pushed through me. Yet, he wasn’t pushing me down on the bed and screwing my brains out.

He was dominating me, but I loved it. My entire body quivered as I finally got to the peak of my orgasm.

“How many men have you been with?” he asked in a husky tone.

“What?” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. Trying to make sense of his words.

“How many men have you let in here?” He pushed his fingers in deeper and I let out a breathy moan, my body trembling.

What did he want, a number? A confession? “I-I—” I licked my lips, unable to answer him as he eased his fingers out of me with a curse.

“You’re a virgin? Fuck, you’re not ready for me.” He strode to the door and walked out, leaving me desperate and confused.

“Asshole,” I screamed after him.