He brought it to his lips and inhaled deeply, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at me. Nikolai took a long drag from the end, held the smoke in for several seconds, and then exhaled slowly, a cloud of whiteness slightly obscuring his visage.
I knew what he smoked, remembered smelling the same cloying scent years ago when I’d caught Gio sneaking out the back with one of his friends to smoke a joint.
Nikolai was getting high.
I realized this was the first time I really had taken note of his tattoos, of how much of his flesh he had covered in them. On the back of one hand he had a detailed rose inked, and on the other he wore a vicious looking skull. The dark ink crept up as forearms, weaving around his biceps, over his shoulders, and stopped right below his thickly corded neck.
And then there was his chest, that despite all the tattoos and designs, couldn’t hide the raw power of his abdomen, couldn't conceal the rippling muscles, the rolling hills of power.
I felt like we were at a standstill, a crossroads as I stood on the opposite end of the room, both of us just staring at each other, my hand having a death grip on the edge of the towel to keep it in place.
And then I saw his gaze travel from my face to my neck, along my collarbones, and over the slight swells of my breasts that I knew he could see underneath the fabric of the towel. He went lower still, a slow and easy appraisal of my form as if he could see right through the material to my naked body. I shivered, goosebumps popping out along my arms and legs, my breath stalling as I continued to watch him.
He brought the joint to his lips again and took another long inhale from it, his gaze now back on my face.
There was a small decorated tray on the table beside him, which he used to snub the end of the joint.
“Come here kukolka.” His voice was deep and dark and barely audible. I found myself unable to move even though this wicked part of me wanted to. Wanted to obey.
When I stood in the same spot one of his dark eyebrows cocked up slightly and the corner of his mouth lifted. He smoothed his left hand over his thigh once. Twice. And on the third time he patted his leg.
Chapter
Fifteen
Amara
“Be a good girl and come here and sit on my lap.”
Oh God. Why did that sound so… dirty?
The air left my lungs so violently I felt dizzy from it. That demand, that softly spoken order made me feel things I’d never experienced before.
I was embarrassingly wet between my thighs and clenched my legs together, the pressure making it worse, making my arousal grow.
But I did find myself moving closer, doing what he said.
I was only a foot from him when I found myself holding my breath, unable to move closer. He was like a flame and I was liable to get burned.
He laughed low and deep, a chuckle that speared right to my pussy. I licked my lips, not sure what to say, but before a word could escape, he snapped his hand out and curled it roughly around my waist.
I gasped at the force in which he curled his fingers into my waist, a startled sound leaving me when he pulled me forward so quickly I lost my balance. But his firm hold steadied me, and when Nikolai positioned me in the way he wanted, I was left sitting on his lap with my legs thrown over the arm of the chair and the towel riding up my thighs almost indecently.
He started playing with a strand of my hair and I watched with wide eyes as he brought the lock to his nose and inhaled deeply, his eyes becoming hooded.
“Mmm,” he hummed and I felt that sound between my thighs. “Normally I’d have to show you how much it disappoints me that you didn’t listen to me right away.” He ran the tip of that lock of hair over his mouth, slow and easy, lazily almost. “But you’re so innocent, so breakable.”
He let that strand of hair fall to my shoulder as he leaned back in the chair, the leather making a soft sound as his weight settled into it. “So untouched,” he murmured and made another deep rumbling sound from his throat. My chest was rising and falling as fast as I was breathing, but I couldn’t take my gaze away from his face.
It was only when I felt the heavy weight of his palm landing on one of my thighs that I snapped my head in that direction, looking at my lap.
His hand slowly started stroking up and down the top of my thigh, his fingers skating slowly along the bare skin until goosebumps covered my limbs. I couldn’t breathe. Or maybe I was breathing too hard. Too fast. Maybe I was tethered to the world because of him. Or maybe I was floating away.
I couldn't tell reality from fantasy. Or maybe this was a nightmare.
“Tell me,” he said softly, conversationally. “I know you’re a virgin.” That last word was spoken tightly.
It should have disgusted me that he was saying these things, forcing me to reveal anything private about myself. Yet why did it arouse me that he was pushing, that he wanted to pluck any secret I had buried deep in my soul?
“Tell me, little doll, tell me if anyone has ever touched you.” As he stared into my eyes, he slowly pulled one edge of the towel aside until I felt the chilled air in the room brush along my exposed flesh. I automatically tensed, my hands moving down to put the material back in its place. He slapped my inner thigh again.
“Now, now, sweet girl. Don’t try hiding from me. Let me see all that perfection. Let me see what is mine.”
Oh God I was flailing and flailing and flailing down a dark hole and there was no light. No, that wasn't right. There was a light and it was Nikolai. He was the glow as bright as the sun and I was looking right into him.
“Any secret meetings with those teenage bastards?” I made a panicked sound in my throat as he kept touching me. “Hmm, is that a yes? A no?” He innocently stroked me as he forced me to stare into his eyes. “Any little fuckers touching all this perfect skin?” He trailed the tips of his fingers down to my knee, then curled them inward and started trailing them up my inner thigh. “Who do I need to kill for touching what’s mine?”
I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly so dry, my tongue too thick for me to form any words. He made another deep sound a second later and slapped my inner thigh. Not hard enough to really hurt, but enough that I felt a brief sting from the contact.
“You’ve been such a good girl so far. Don’t start disappointing me now by not obeying.”
I’d never been around a man like him before, his needs very specific. I couldn’t deny that the very thought of obeying him turned me on almost violently.
I felt his hand leave my thigh and I knew he’d slap my tender skin again. I knew I’d get wetter. “N—no,” I finally answered his questions.
“Mmm. So no one has touched this little cunt? No one has ran a finger right down your center?” My face was on fire. “What about yourself, krasavitsa? Have you played with this little clit?”
He emphasized his question by doing the act, by circling that bundle until I whimpered.
“When you’re alone in your room and have the darkness as protection to keep your secrets, do you slip your hand between your legs and play with this pretty little cunt?”
I felt my embarrassment rise so strongly I was sweating. Why was he doing this? Why was he being so crude?
Yet I was… wetter.
“I–I’ve never touched myself.” I didn't admit that I’d thought about it, envisioned doing it as I thought of him.