I could feel his hot breath on my neck, each exhale sending shivers down my spine. His right hand tightened around my waist, pulling me closer. In contrast, his left hand gently but firmly lifted my chin, forcing me to meet our reflection in the darkened glass window. The room was dimly lit, and the faint glow from the street outside cast long shadows across our faces.
"You're mine, every part of you is mine," he whispered, his voice deep and rugged, the Russian accent thick and heavy. His hot breath tickled the sensitive skin of my ear, making me tremble.
His hand rested on my waist, then slowly lifted the edge of my dress. His fingers traveled across my abdomen, the touch both electrifying and unsettling. His fingers brushed my skin with a mix of tenderness and control. I could feel his emotions through his touch—an intense, almost palpable desire to possess me. The warmth of his hand contrasted with the cold fear that spread through me, making my heart race.
I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, but his presence was overwhelming. His scent, a mixture of expensive cologne and something uniquely him filled my senses. I felt trapped, not just by his physical embrace, but by the growing realization that I was far deeper than I had ever intended.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of an order. My eyes snapped open, meeting his in the reflection. The intensity I saw there made my breath catch in my throat.
His hand continued its journey upward, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. I wanted to resist, to pull away, but my body betrayed me, leaning into his touch. A small gasp escaped my lips as his fingers traced the curve of my breast.
"That's it, Moya Lyubov," he murmured, his lips brushing against my earlobe. "Let yourself feel."
I shuddered, torn between desire and fear. This man, this dangerous, captivating Russian, had woven his way into my life, entangling me in a web of passion and peril. I knew I should run, should have never gotten involved, but it was too late now.
His hand moved to cup my face, thumb tracing my lower lip. In the reflection, I watched as he lowered his head, lips hovering above my neck. "Tell me you want this," he demanded, his voice husky with need.
I hesitated, my mind racing. Did I want this? The answer was complicated, wrapped in layers of attraction, fear, and a thrill I couldn't deny.
I never wished to be in this situation, but he forced me into it. I feel trapped, yet, strangely, I'm starting to become accustomed to it. Questions swirl in my mind, each one more confusing than the last.
Am I starting to love him? Or is it just my body yearning for him? Or am I merely doing this to protect myself from his wrath, to keep myself safe from the threat of death? The uncertainty gnaws at me, and I wonder if my feelings are real or just a desperate response to my circumstances.
"I..." My voice faltered, caught between truth and self-preservation. His grip tightened, a subtle reminder of the power he held over me. I swallowed hard, my reflection in the window showing a woman I barely recognized. "I want this," I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "Good girl," he purred, his lips finally making contact with my neck. The sensation sent a jolt through my body, a mix of pleasure and revulsion that left me dizzy.
His kisses trailed up to my jaw, each one stoking a fire I didn't want to acknowledge. I kept my eyes fixed on our reflection, watching as he marked me as his own. The city lights flickered beyond the glass, a world away from this gilded cage I found myself in.
"You're learning," he murmured against my ears.
"Hmmm…", I let out a low moan at his touch, my body responding instinctively. His hands move over my underwear, and I can't deny the growing desire within me.
"Vlad..", I moan his name as he teases my clit. His finger is playing with my wetness, creating a pleasurable sensation throughout my body.
"Get on your knees," he ordered, and I immediately complied. I knelt on all fours, grateful for the heavily tinted windows that shielded us from prying eyes. Without them, who knows who might have been able to see us?
As I struggle to support my weight, I can feel myself tightening around him. My legs are flexed and my buttocks are raised, anticipating the movement of his unbuckling belt.
I could hear the soft clink of his belt buckle behind me, and the rustle of fabric as he lowered his trousers. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of anticipation and trepidation coursing through my veins. I felt exposed, and vulnerable in this position, yet a part of me craved what was to come.
Vlad's hands gripped my hips firmly, his fingers digging into my flesh. I could feel the heat radiating from his body as he positioned himself behind me. His breath was ragged, betraying his desire.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his accent thicker with arousal. "So perfect."
I felt the tip of him pressing against me, teasing my entrance. Despite myself, I arched my back, silently begging for more. Vlad chuckled low in his throat, clearly pleased by my response.
"Patience, моя любовь," he whispered, his hands caressing my sides. "Good things come to those who wait."
He continued to tease me, never quite giving me what I desperately wanted. I bit my lip, trying to stifle the whimpers threatening to escape. My body trembled with need, every nerve ending on fire.
Suddenly, he thrust forward, burying himself deep inside me in one swift motion. I cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation. Vlad groaned, his fingers digging into my hips as he held himself still, allowing me to adjust to his size.
"так хорошо," he muttered, his voice strained with pleasure. "You feel so good, my love."
He began to move, slowly at first, each thrust sending waves of sensation through my body. I gripped the plush carpet beneath me, trying to anchor myself as Vlad's pace increased—the room filled with the sound of our heavy breathing and the slap of skin against skin.
I could feel myself getting lost in the sensations, my earlier reservations fading away under the onslaught of pleasure. Vlad's hands roamed my body, caressing and claiming every inch of me. One hand snaked around to my front, his fingers finding my most sensitive spot with practiced ease.
"Let go," he commanded, his voice rough with exertion. "I want to hear you scream my name."
His fingers worked in tandem with his thrusts, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I could feel the tension building within me, a coiling spring ready to snap. My arms trembled, struggling to support my weight as waves of pleasure crashed over me.
"Vlad," I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper.
His pace increased, becoming almost punishing in its intensity. "Louder," he growled, his fingers circling faster.
He is large and he stretches me lewdly. His movements are becoming more forceful. "Vlad," I cry out as tears stream down my face. It's starting to hurt, but the pleasure is still there.
"Vlad!" I screamed as the tension finally broke, my orgasm crashing over me in waves of intense pleasure. My body shuddered and clenched around him as he continued to thrust, drawing out my climax.
With a guttural groan, Vlad reached his peak, his hips jerking erratically against me. I could feel the warmth of his release inside me as he stilled, his body draped over my back.
For a moment, we stayed like that, both of us panting heavily. The room was silent save for our ragged breathing. Then, slowly, Vlad withdrew from me, leaving me feeling strangely empty.
His hands gently guided me to turn over, and I found myself looking up into his face. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, now held a warmth that made my heart skip a beat.
"You did well, моя любовь," Vlad murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His touch was gentle now, almost tender, a stark contrast to the roughness of moments before.
I lay there, my body still trembling from the intensity of our encounter. Conflicting emotions swirled within me - satisfaction, shame, fear, and something else I couldn't quite name. I searched Vlad's face, trying to decipher his thoughts, but his expression was unreadable once more.
He stood up, adjusting his clothing. I watched him, suddenly feeling very exposed and vulnerable on the floor. As if sensing my discomfort, Vlad reached down and helped me to my feet, steadying me when my legs threatened to give way then lift me and carry me to the bed.
My heavy eyelids begin to close as sleep starts to take over. "I want to stay with you longer, but I still need to give orders to my men," he whispered, his voice soft in my ear. That's right—I almost forgot who he is, a dangerous war criminal. Yet here I am, longing for him. A part of me tries to warn myself, but most of me just crave him.
He took my hands and kissed them gently. "I want to smell myself on you, so don't clean up. I'll be the one to take care of that," he murmured, stroking my hair with his fingers before pressing a kiss to my forehead.
My eyes drifted into darkness, but I was suddenly awakened by the howling of the wind outside the glass window. I glanced at the clock—it had only been twenty minutes since Vlad left me. There must be a storm. Should I go look for him? No, he can protect himself. He's capable of that.
"He killed your brother," a whisper echoed in my ear. Yes, he did. But what choice do I have? He's the only one who can protect me, who loves me unconditionally. I pulled a robe around myself and stared out the window. My body still felt sticky, and I wanted to shower, but I knew Vlad would be angry if I did it without him.
The howling wind was strangely comforting, but a part of me missed the one sound that always calmed me—the sound of crashing waves, the one thing that could lull me into a peaceful sleep. I placed my hand against the glass. It felt warm to the touch, but I knew outside the storm was raging.
My reflection stared back at me, empty and distant. My mother used to say my eyes sparkled like stars, full of life and wonder. But now, as I gaze into the mirror, I see how dull they've become—lifeless like a doll pretending to be played by its master. There's no light left in them, only shadows.
"I'm too lost now, Mom," I whispered, my voice barely audible as I studied the hollow image before me. The girl I once was felt like a distant memory, fading into the background of a life I no longer controlled. I sighed, my fingers tracing the outline of my face in the reflection as if trying to find some trace of the person I used to be. But all I found was emptiness.
Yes, I am lost. The only thing left for me is Vlad—my lover, my captor. He's the only thing I can cling to now, the only one who holds the strings. And no matter how much I want to break free, I know I can't. Not anymore.