GEORGIA
Terror is a feral beast unleashed inside of me. But behind the terror is something different all together. Something unexpected. Arousal.
Andrei leans forward, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispers in a disarmingly gentle voice, “How should I punish you, my little captive? Are you going to suck me off, or is it time I claimed that sweet pussy for my own? Or if you feel like getting kinky, I could start with your ass.”
A shiver scatters through my body, but I manage to choke out, “You’re… you’re bleeding,” His eyes flash a shade darker and I realize my error in pointing out my transgression.
“And whose fault is that?” He slips a finger under my chin and raises my head. His thumb toys with my bottom lip, rubbing it suggestively. A harsh promise of what's to come. “Lucky for you, the bullet just grazed my shoulder. I’m alive and well and ready to dole out your punishment.”
His words create a heavy ache in my core, molten heat pulsating deep inside me. With one hand still around my throat, Andrei’s other hand caresses my shoulder for a moment before brutally ripping my right tank-top strap straight off. Before I can blink, he’s done the same with the other side, pulling down my tank top, exposing my breasts completely. My pants are the next to come off, leaving me only in a thong.
“Better,” he observes darkly.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know why I bother apologizing. It will not buy his forgiveness, but I need to appease him because his heavy-lidded gaze is beyond menacing—promising terrible things to come.
“Your words mean nothing.” His powerful thigh settles between my legs. Releasing my throat, his thumb invades my mouth. “Show me how sorry you are?”
I reach for the fly on his pants, but he stills my hand, pressing his leg hard against my core. “Debase yourself, krasotka. Show me how desperate you are for my forgiveness.”
Understanding blooms. Andrei will not be satisfied with an apologetic blowjob underneath the oaks and maples. He means to make me pay. To make me feel ashamed. The most painful punishment there is.
I shake my head furiously as his thumb continues to twist in my mouth. But with every tense moment, my shame transforms into something else. Something hungrier, something dark and pulsating with need.
“Come on me,” he commands. “Show me what a good little whore you are.”
The top of his thigh nudges between my legs. It’s horrible to think of coming like this, rubbing against him like an animal. Humiliating. And yet my hips move against him as if by their own volition. His eyes come alive, watching me rub wantonly against his leg like a dog.
“Good girl. Look at what a slut you are… just for me,” he hisses, his hand fisting in my hair.
Desire courses through me. Grinding against him, every glance of my clit against the rough material of his jeans is sweet relief. My body craves this release as much as it does my next breath. He pulls back, his gaze zeroing in on where I am taking my pleasure against his leg.
“Beg me to come,” he says, voice tight.
“I can’t…”
“Beg me!”
“Please, Andrei, please let me come on you.”
Even through the material of my thong, a wave of pleasure builds with every undulation of my hips, the mounting pressure of release close at hand. Andrei presses his leg harder against me, and I’m like a bomb about to detonate. I bury my face into his shoulder, crying out as the orgasm overtakes me—pleasure blasting through me in scorching waves as every muscle in my body contracts and then releases.
I don’t know how long I stay hovering in this strange otherworldly space, but when I finally lift my head from Andrei’s shoulder, he tips my face up to his, searching my eyes. “You want out of here so badly you’d be willing to kill me?”
“I never meant to shoot. My finger slipped,” I say, cringing at my stupidity. I step back to assess his injuries, but I can barely make out the spot of blood on his dark t-shirt. Either it really is a graze wound or he’s made of titanium and can’t be killed like the Terminator.
“I…” The words get caught in my throat. I want to tell him yes, I really want out of here, and far from the world of the bratva. “I want my freedom.”
His finger brushes down my cheek, eyes solemn. “Freedom is such an objective word. If I let you go, are you really free? Or are you shackled to your fears, to family obligations, to making others happy? What do you really want, Georgia?” His eyes burn into mine, his face dark and inscrutable.
I shake my head, at a loss. I’ve never spent a lot of time thinking about what I want, because it never mattered. My life has been more about what I’ve had to do than what I desired.
“I want to paint.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can process them, but Andrei doesn’t laugh at me. He doesn’t move a muscle. “I’ve never really had the chance. I would just like to try it. I’m sure I’d be terrible—”
“Stop. You’d be wonderful, krasotka. Like you are at everything. Even shooting a gun.” His lips twist up and amusement dances in his eyes. I wonder why he’s being so nice to me. I can handle the beast, but this gentle version of Andrei destroys me. “You underestimate yourself time and time again. Do you really think I’d allow you to work for me if I didn’t think you could do it? I’ve trained hundreds of soldiers in my life—after fifteen minutes in their presence I know who is capable of what, and who I can trust. And I know you are capable of anything.” My heart beats frantically in my chest and I feel a pull of pleasure at his words. “If you want to run and hide in the woods, I’ll grant you your freedom. But if you’re only running because you don't think you are capable, I want you to think again.”
Did I just hear him correctly? He’ll give me my freedom if I just ask?
But his offer gives me pause.