Her eyes were wide-terrified, confused, furious-and I fucking loved it. The way every flicker of fear, every tremble of uncertainty on my little troublemaker's face felt like a shot of adrenaline straight to my veins. A personal drug of mine I couldn't help needing more. Fuck when did it come to this?
The way she looked at me, like I was some untouchable force, something dangerous, something she didn't understand but couldn't escape. It was intoxicating.
I stared at her-my little bird. Her hair clung to her skin and the fucking drops of water slid almost tauntingly down the heavenly curves of her body, and for a moment, I lost myself. My mind, always so sharp, so fucking precise, went hazy as I drank her in. The sight of her-bare, soaked, trembling-it did something to me.
God, she was beautiful. More than I could admit.
Not in the way those plastic, made-up women flaunted themselves. No, my ptichka was raw. Real. Unpolished and fucking perfect. It was torture how her soft, trembling body, all curves and edges, had me trembling too for some dirty reasons. I was the one who broke men like twigs, the one who struck fear into every motherfucker's heart-but this woman? She had me coming apart at the seams.
And the worst part? She didn't even fucking know it.
She wasn't aware of the power she had on me. Not aware that she could have me fly back to Russian in less than a day just because my cock fucking missed her.
I needed her, more than I needed air, more than I needed power, more than I needed control. Fuck, it twisted me up inside, this sick obsession, this hunger that gnawed at my insides like a goddamn animal. But I wasn't just hungry for her body-though, Christ, I'd bury myself in her every fucking chance I got-I wanted her soul. I wanted every thought, every goddamn breath, every beat of her heart to belong to me. I'd settle for nothing less.
I wanted to know what she thought of me.
"Fucking look at you," I rasped feeling her needy cunt dripping on my palm. I moved my hands lower and tracing the outline of her throat with other feeling the fragile bones under her delicate skin. I could snap her neck in a heartbeat if I wanted to-fuck, if I so much as twitched wrong-but the idea of breaking her was the last thing on my mind. For once. And that was alarming.
No. I wanted to own her. Consume her. Swallow her whole and keep her inside me until there was nothing left but us.
She fucking undo me.
My grip tightening just enough to make her gasp. Her lips parted, and fuck me, I was so close to slamming my mouth onto hers, tasting every sound she made. But I didn't. Not yet. Not until I'd wrung every inch of control out of her. I could feel it in the air-the push and pull between us. She didn't want to yield, but she would. She'd fucking give in because I'd leave her no other choice.
Because I'm her fucking monster now.
"Say it, Fenochka," I lowly growled. My fingers danced over her wet skin, teasing her nipples and the studs, watching as they peaked under my touch. "Say you're mine."
But she didn't speak. Stubborn fucking woman.
I should've been pissed. Hell, I should've thrown her over the edge and fucked the fight right out of her. But instead? It lit a fire under my skin. That spark in her? That stubborn little refusal to break, no matter how hard I pushed? It drove me insane, and not in the way I thought it would. Oh no, it made me want her more, like some deranged addict craving just one more hit. It fucking did things to me.
And God, did she piss me off. Every time I thought I'd finally snapped that pretty little neck of her pride, she'd come back swinging, daring me, taunting me, like she thought she could beat me at this game. My naïve ptichka. My little bird with clipped wings, still trying to fly.
The harder she resisted, the harder I got. Pathetic, right? Should've turned around, should've taught her a lesson she'd never forget. But instead? I let her scratch at the cage, just so I could watch her crumble… and crawl back for more.
I wanted to crush that fire, yeah, but not completely. No. I wanted to watch her fight me, over and over again, just to realize she'd never win. I wanted her to know that no matter how many times she snarled or screamed or spat my name like a curse, she'd come crawling back. Because she couldn't fucking live without my hands on her.
And neither could I.
We were in the hell I created, but the flames were hers-and I fucking loved burning in them.
The things I'd do to her. The things I wanted to do to her. And every time she opened that pretty little mouth of hers, I wanted to shut it. Preferably with my cock.
She thought she was something. Pretended she could stand up to me?
I had broken men twice her size. What made her think she was any different? I would've laughed if it wasn't so goddamn arousing.
I watched her squirm under my gaze as my fingers pulled out another orgasm out of her and she crumbled in between my arms.
She looked at me like I was the devil. And maybe I was. No-scratch that-I was the devil. The devil who'd carve his mark into her soul and make her beg for it.
I ran my thumb along the edge of her cunt loving how she squirmed but laid motionless and tired in my arms.
And fuck, I was obsessed. She was a puzzle I couldn't stop trying to solve. A fucking riddle wrapped in soft skin, tight curves, and that maddening little temper of hers. I could feel her. Even now. She was under my skin, in my blood. That was the problem. The itch I couldn't scratch. I needed to break her and piece her back together my way.
I needed her to need me, to beg for me.
Was I losing my mind finally?
"S-stop, I'm sensitive… down there…" She begged and I smirked.
Grabbing her jaw I forced her to look up at me, "Your cunt is sensitive now?"
She blushed and fuck, she looked more tempting with the red cheeks and trembling unfocused eyes. It made me wonder.
Did Ivan see her like this? Dwell in ecstasy of drinking in her essence? No, fuck. He better kept his distance because no one else would touch her now. Not a single fucking soul.
And my mind instantly replayed the damn scene of Ivan kissing her. Though it was short, but the fire burned my soul. If it wasn't for the damn window, I might have missed that, but the window of this room gave decent view of the world on the ground.
I had plan of my own for little Morozov bastrad. He'd pay, with his fucking life.
Her soft whimper pulled me back from my murder plan and I realised my grip on her had tightened.
My hand slid down and fingers trailed over her breasts, and I heard her breath catch in her throat. Her nipples hardened under my touch, and fuck, it made my cock twitch with need. I pressed myself against her, grinding my hardness into the curve of her ass.
She whimpered, and I nearly lost it right there.
"Fuck," I hissed, tightening my grip on her. "You feel that? You fucking feel what you do to me, fenochka? You make me feel like I'm on fire, and I'm burning from the inside out. Every second I'm not inside you, I'm dying."
Her lips parted again, and her breath came out ragged, shaky. She wanted to say something, but she didn't. Maybe she was too scared, or maybe she knew-knew that whatever came out of her mouth would only fuel me further.
"Goddamn it," I snarled, my lips ghosting over her neck. I tightened my grip on her throat, just enough to make her gasp again. I wanted to take her right here, fuck her so hard she'd forget her own name, but I didn't. Not yet.
No. I needed to make her say it. I needed to hear her admit it.
"Say it," I growled, my teeth grazing her earlobe. "Say you're fucking mine and I'll give you everything. You want freedom? Then bend your pretty little knees and beg for it, because the only way you'll ever get anything now is from me."
My voice dropped even lower, a rough whisper against her skin. "You need me. No other man could give you this. No one else could make you feel like this."
Her eyes flickered with defiance, and for a split second, I thought she might fight me. But then, slowly, her body relaxed into mine. She was trembling-whether from fear or desire, I didn't fucking care.
I smirked, the darkness swelling in my chest, and I leaned in, my lips brushed against her ear. But just as I was about to kiss her neck, there was a loud knock that had my blood boil.
"What do you want, Kyle?" I grumbled in Russian as my little bird relaxed in my hold probably wondering if Kyle could save her. Like he would.
A stillness fell upon the room and I narrowed my eyes. "Bark."
Anotehr pasue before Kyle's said in Russian. "Your sister, she is kidnapped."