The Darkness Within

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty Eight

I don't think I've ever seen Sergei's eyes this bright. The time me spanked me as a punishment was somewhat close. The time he tied me up was closer. But never this vivid, this defined.

He leans close to rub his slightly stubbled cheek against mine. I think he let his five-o'clock-shadow grow out slightly to give him a gruffer appearance amongst the most powerful men in Russia, and the scrape of his stubble against my smoother skin is impossibly erotic.

With the presence of genuine anger, my senses have heightened to a fever-pitch. As though my body's encouraging me to let out my rage through sex.

"Last chance, Kira," he warns. "If I start, we won't stop until I'm done."

Fueled by pent-up aggression mixed with a substantial amount of lust, I turn and bite his jaw. His response is a low chuckle, and then a bite to my neck that's even harder than usual—one that'll definitely leave a mark, and is just shy of drawing blood.

In a whip-crack movement, using his free hand, he pulls his belt off, and then wraps it around both my wrists.

At my glare, he explains, "I'll be needing both hands free," and ties one end of the belt to a conveniently placed loop on the headboard.

He doesn't use the tie on my wrists, this time, instead pulling it loose and tying it around my head, gagging me. When he said we won't be done until he's done, he really meant it.

I don't worry in the slightest about what he'll do—no fear assuages me, even though it should. Being totally immobilized and gagged by a pissed-off bratva boss doesn't bode well for anyone, so it stands to reason that everyone would be seriously concerned by now—I should be screaming for help at the top of my lungs. However, I've been with Sergei enough times that, judging by countless past experiences, he'll make whatever he does enjoyable. He has a knack for testing my limits, but never pushing too far.

I get a front row seat of him stripping off his clothes, revealing a powerful body that I've come to know all too well. When he's down to his briefs, he grips both sides of my dress's V-neck in his fists, and pulls with such force that the silk tears apart in his grip.

I blink at the strength, noting the fact that Sergei's easily ten times stronger than me, and could do whatever he wanted, despite any protest I make. I'm not wearing a bra underneath the dress—the dress's corset-like waist didn't allow it, which brings a grin of pure masculine satisfaction to his chiseled face.

I expect him to dive right in, like normal, but he doesn't. He props his arms on either side of my shoulder, gives me his weight, pinning me down even further, and blows on one of my nipples. It's already hard, but it pebbles even further in the cool air. Then, he laves his tongue over it. He repeats the gestures on both my breasts multiple times, until I start squirming restlessly. Then, his obscenely hot mouth closes over one, and he starts to suck. Each suction sends a jolt of heat right to my core, until I know I've soaked the gusset of my thong.

I try to say his name impatiently, but his tie makes it sound like a tortured moan. That prompts him to lick a path down my navel, slide my panties off my legs, undo and toss away the knife sheathed on my thigh, and settle himself between my spread thighs.

Then, he quite simply stares up at me, not twitching a muscle, his hands resting still on my inner thighs.

"Do you want me to eat your pussy?" The question is spoken in a dangerous purr.

I grudgingly nod.

"Then tell me you belong to me."

I let out a sigh of pure frustration, and turn my head to the side. I'm not conceding this—not tonight. Not after finding out he'd kept a very fucking crucial detail from me.