But that’s not the problem. He’s close, like waytooclose.Soclose that I can follow the droplet of perspiration sliding over his collarbone, to his chest, and then down…
I catch myself before I touch the droplet’s resting place. I’m acting like a major pervert, and the worst part is, I can’t stop it.
Must be because the heat is boiling my brain.
Usually, I have better control on my libido. Like back in that village. I rejected him then and again two weeks ago.
But why did it feel like I was rejecting myself instead? And maybe, just maybe, all those rejections are taking their toll on me and made me reach this state where I’m teetering on the edge.
“Want a drink?” His voice lowers, so sinister in nature, I actually swallow.
I reach for the glass, but he keeps it out of reach.
“Never said it’d be for free.”
“I can go get my own drink.”
“You can, but you won’t, because I won’t let you.”
His free hand slides up the collar of my bathrobe, subtly brushing his fingers against the skin of my breastbone. I shudder, my lips parting as I attempt and fail to subdue my reaction.
Then, in one violent go, he shoves the bathrobe down. My breasts bounce from their confinement, and the belt opens, revealing my black boxer briefs.
I gasp as the reality of the situation comes into focus.
Not only am I half naked, but I’m also not moving or attempting to cover myself. Why am I not moving…?
Kirill slides his finger from the pulse point of my neck, down to my collarbone, and then over the slope of my breasts.
A strange sound echoes in the air, and I realize with utter horror that it came from me. I’ve never been touched by this level of blinding control before.
There’s no hesitation or slow exploration like I experienced with my high school boyfriend. And Kirill is definitely not a boy.
He’s a man who knows exactly what he’s doing and handles me with nonnegotiable firmness.
I’m paralyzed in the path of his madness. A part of me screams at me to stop this. There’s a reason I shouldn’t want this man, but I can’t access my brain to fathom what that reason is.
I’m lost in a fog I can’t escape. My heart and body attuned to the monster in the form of a man.
A monster I can’t resist.
His fingers wrap around my taut nipple, and he pinches. A zap rushes through me, and I gasp at the mixture of pleasure and pain.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He twists my nipple again, harder, with sure intent that makes me want to cry. “Tempting.” Another pinch, and more torture. “Irresistible.” He pulls this time, adding a maddening friction that starts in my nipples and ends right between my legs. “And the worst part is, you have no fucking clue you are. That’s why you keep flaunting yourself around so innocently, for anyone to see, but we can’t have that, now, can we? I’m the only one who knows how beautiful you are, aren’t I?”
He uses his hold on my breast to push me down so that I’m lying on the bench and the now open bathrobe.
I feel like I’ll faint, but that has less to do with the temperature and more to do with the man who’s hovering over me like a god. His knees are on either side of me and his face is much more handsome from this angle.
“Answer me, Solnyshko.”
A fire burns inside me at that word, and I clench my legs as I nod.
His eyes rage into a darker blue, ethereal in color, molten in appearance. His attention never leaves me as he pours half of the drink over my breasts. I shudder when the cold liquid touches my hot skin and drips down the sides.
“I’m the only one who’s seen these gorgeous tits, right?”
I’m lost for words because of one small fact.Did he just call me gorgeous?