“It’s my castle.”
And she’s my guest that’s not allowed to leave which technically makes her my prisoner.
Licking her lips, she nods and then disappears behind the screen. I rub the back of my neck, my lids fluttering as she throws her clothes up. My gaze lowers and I catch her naked calves. They’re smooth and tan, her toe nails painted a glittery red. Longing cuts in me and the full force of just how much I’ve missed her washes over me.
These years have been unfair. There hasn’t been a single day where I haven’t thought of her, where I didn’t curse her for leaving me while she probably couldn’t be bothered with just a tiny thought about me. She never sent me any postcards, never came to visit...Aggravation bubbles in me again and I shoot her a hard glare when she steps out.
“Think I’m going to go with this one,” she says, stroking her hands down a plain, black dress. “What do you think?”
“It’s a dinner not a funeral.”
She lets out a laugh. “Maybe it’s a bit formal but...,” she shrugs again as if that’s fine by her, “will you zip up the back?”
My heart begins lashing against my ribcage. “Get over here and I’ll see what I can do.”
Gratitude flashes in her eyes and she saunters over to me, slowly but it only makes my pulse race quicker. I wonder if she knows what she’s doing. If she’s learned about the effect she has on men and knows how to use it. I wonder if there have been others.
There has to have been. She was a foreigner, an exotic little dove in a land full of men who wanted a piece of her and I glare at her when she stops in front of me. “Is something wrong? I could try zipping it up myself if it bothers you.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” I slither. “Now be so kind and come over here and let me help.”
She follows my request, presenting me with her back and I let out a hiss between my teeth, so low she doesn’t hear it. She’s not wearing a bra, her skin unblemished and so soft that velvet feels like sandpaper compared to her but she twitches when she feels my touch.
“Your hands are cold,” she whispers and I grind my jaw.
“You never used to complain about my hands before.” She used to play clapping games with them, arm wrestle with me and she’d be overjoyed every time she’d win.
“It wasn’t a complaint,” she breathes, “just an observation.”
“You like my touch then,” I rasp and she slowly nods. I can’t tear my eyes from the way her back arches, trailing a finger down her spine and she buzzes. “Beg me to kiss you.”
“No,” she whispers before a teasing look flashes her eyes. “I’ve never had to beg my Beastie for anything.”
Furious that she’s right, I yank her to me and she pants, falling over my lap.
“Kiss me softly,” she urges, as if nervous of what’s to come and she should be nervous.
“You don’t deserve a soft kiss,” I growl and force my lips upon hers. The kiss is hard and she mewls, fidgeting underneath me like she’s about to throw a seizure. If she could, I have no doubt she’d be using her fists to get me off. But as it is now, her fists are tied by my hands, working for my benefit and I brim with arousal.
When she lets out sound of protest again, I force myself to soften, force myself to move my lips in a way that’s humane, in a way that she would like and to my surprise, she slowly responds. When probing her seam with my tongue, she part hers lips without hesitation, the tip of her tongue stroking against mine and I go limp.
Aggravation flares in me again, over the fact that she can do this to me. Make a warrior like me go boneless, simply because he has a good and kindhearted woman in his bed and I want to kill something. Preferably the part in me that can’t allow this and I begin kissing her in a fury, bruising her mouth on purpose...
“Sch..,” she whispers, trembling. “Shush now, big warrior. Easy.” She slowly, flicks her tongue, lapping at me and I groan, clasping her neck and this time I enjoy it fully. This time there’s nothing holding me back and it feels like I’m levitating and the only thing keeping me centered is...
Her.
Slowly, pulling away, I look down at her with curved brows that should scare her but instead she just regards me with awe. “I didn’t know you could kiss like that,” she whispers, looking up at me and I stroke her soft jawline.
“You would have known had you stayed,” I growl in a low voice and her eyes widen.
“Don’t keep on punishing me for that.”
Too late. Too damn late.
“What make you think I’ll show you any kindness?”
A look of triumph flashes in her eyes. “Because deep down, you’re still as fanatical about me as always,” she purrs, her voice full of tenderness. She reigns above me like a true tsarina as I lay there like a true beggar underneath her and something snaps in me. Growling, I snatch her around the waist and shove her down on the sheets. “Oh yes...,” she cries out, wrapping her legs around me but I pin her down, letting her know I’m not in the mood for any games.