I nearly scream as he latches his mouth above my piercing, thrusting with his tongue until I’m incoherent. This is true torture—having to stay silent amid the tumult of pleasure he gives me. Ruthlessly, he gives it. Over and over until I’m wracked with sobs as tears stream down my face in my quest to smother all noise.
I praise him with drawn nails raking through his hair instead. With orgasms that leave him groaning in their wake. Limp and panting, all I can do is lie helplessly as he stands and frees his cock from the confines of his slacks.
I take him deep on the first thrust, hissing in pleasure, my eyelids fluttering. I don’t know if it’s the location, or the tension that comes from sneaking around but I come damn near instantly, and he isn’t far behind, snatching me to him as he spills inside me.
We come back to clinging to any part of each other we can reach. As my breathing returns to normal, I find his ear, my voice a whisper.
“I feel sufficiently punished,” I tell him.
He chuckles and draws back to stare down on me with those haunting, brooding eyes. “Enough to repent?” he wonders, stroking the hair from my face. “For ever wanting to leave me?”
I nod even as a part of me warns me to back down. Avoid. Salvage our one fragile boundary. “I believe your torturous methods are making progress with this prisoner,” I confess despite myself. “For better or for worse.”
“Better,” he insists, drawing me into his arms while scanning the floor for our scattered clothing. “This is better.”
And he sounds so damn confident.
I almost believe him.
Chapter Ten
I blink my eyes open, unsure of what drew me awake in the first place. I’m on the bed, I think, judging from the softness beneath me. Weak sunlight pours in through the window, illuminating the empty space beside me—Vadim is gone.
Sighing, I slump against a pillow, stroking the silken sheets he’d laid on beside me. Kinky sex is a drug unto itself, but I don’t think anything tops being held by him. Falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat while his breaths ruffle my hair. This man will be the end of me, in a way Jim could only dream.
Fuck the list. With every passing second, I’m growing resigned to my fate—but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy every fucking minute.
I halfheartedly scan the rest of the room though I sense without having to check that he isn’t here. Sure enough, the doorway to the bathroom is empty, as is the rest of the room…
Or not. I bolt upright, clutching the sheet to my front as my eyes blink to bring the tiny figure watching me from the foot of the bed into focus.
“M-Magda?” I croak.
She’s fully dressed, her dark hair neatly brushed back behind a scarlet headband. Another black pinafore over a white shirt makes her look like some tiny, less demonic version of Wednesday Adams. At least until I spot the once decapitated bear dangling from her arm.
“Are we going shopping today?” she asks, unconcerned as I scramble to make sure I’m fully covered and that any silver toys are hidden from view.
“Um… Where is your fath—Mr. Vadim?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s six a.m.,” she adds. “I’ve been up since five.”
And Vadim’s been gone since then? Frowning, I try to pinpoint any time during the night when he could have left, but I can’t remember. Facing Magda, I’m left with no choice.
“Well, um, why don’t you go into the closet and find me something to wear, huh? My stuff is on the left-hand side.”
She frowns but obediently scuttles off, and I take the brief freedom from tiny eyes to race into the bathroom and jump into the shower. I wash off quickly and thank God that Vadim had the sense to stash a few robes here, hanging on a hook near the shower entrance. I select a black one that smells like him and shimmy into it. When I return to the bedroom, I find Magda sitting patiently on a leather chair by the window, nearly swallowed by a sea of hot pink faux fur perched on her lap.
“You actually wear this?” she asks, lifting what appears to be the sleeve of my favorite jacket between two fingers.
“Yeah.” I gently take the jacket from her grasp, discovering a purple, frothy dress underneath. Frowning, I eye them both, impressed by the potential. “Interesting color choice, Ms. Magda.”
Her expression doesn’t reveal either way if she picked the clothing on purpose or as a joke. When I pop into the bathroom to change, I’m stunned to find a flattering ensemble. Bold. Daring. Fluffy. The perfect outfit to tackle the challenge this day is shaping up to throw my way.
Magda, however, doesn’t seem very impressed. She crushes It to her chest while sweeping her gaze over me with abject disinterest. “I’m hungry.”
“Okay…” I exhale nervously. Don’t panic, Tiffy. If I’m lucky, Ena packed away some breakfast in one of his prepared meals. “Come on. I’ll make you something to eat.”
Downstairs, I quickly discover no luck in terms of the prepackaged breakfast department. Luckily, Ena seemed to have countered such a lack by stocking the pantry with more—relatively healthy and carb controlled—colorful cereal than I think I’ve ever seen stocked in a grocery store at one time. After Magda picks out her preference, I make her a bowl and watch her eat while chewing on a croissant. She has a pump I quickly discover as she slips it from the pocket of her pinafore and programs her dosage of insulin.
“You need any help?” I ask.
The humorless look she directs my way is all the answer I need.
Within a few minutes, it’s painfully clear that Vadim isn’t down here either.
