He shows my body no mercy.
“I want to see you,” I say, then moan as he reaches between my body and the bed and begins pleasuring my nub.
“Not right now,” he responds. I almost cry. Even though this position feels amazing, it means I can’t make eye contact with Mikhail. It feels more like he’s using my body for pleasure rather than forming a connection.
He presses down on my bundle of nerves, making my hips shoot back. I moan softly. Mikhail doesn’t stop his affront of my body. It’s rough and raw, and I love it. But I hate that I love it.
My eyes catch the eye of a man standing outside the window. He smirks at me. People are watching us have sex. The thought is both exhilarating and mortifying. They’re just casually watching my husband take me with abandon.
I moan again when Mikhail rubs my clit harder. My hips jerk into his hand, needing more, always needing more.
Just when I’m so close to coming, Mikhail removes his hand and places it on my hips. Then he shoves his erection deeper within me.
“Please,” I cry out.
“You’re my good girl, Sofiya. You know what to do.”
“I need to hear it,” I admit.
“Hear what?” He grinds his hips down, reaching a part of me that sends shockwaves of pleasure over me.
“I need your permission.”
I can hear the smile in his voice as he responds. “Then be my good girl and come for me. Now.”
And I do.
No sound escapes me as my orgasm ripples through me. The intensity of it steals my breath away.
Mikhail thrusts once more into me before he comes next. I wonder when I’ll end up pregnant and if I even want that. I’ve always wanted to become a mom. I just don’t know how comfortable I’ll feel having a child with Mikhail if he doesn’t open up to me. Especially since his son is the reason he’s not.
I gasp as he pulls out of me.
“Stay there,” he instructs, walking away for a moment before returning with a towel he uses between my legs. I sigh and melt into the bed. This afterglow, where he comforts me and makes sure my body is all right, fills me with a sense of calm I’ve never felt before.
But then he pulls away again.
“Can you hold me in the bed?” I ask.
He pushes my dress back down and sits me up before laying me down on the bed. “Get some rest. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“The last time you left, Irina tried to hurt me.”
“Irina is dead. No one can hurt you again.” He kisses my forehead and then leaves the room. I avert my gaze from the people still looking at me through the window. This is not what I want. I want Mikhail to snuggle with me. I want to fall asleep in his arms, something we’ve never done before.
He’s using BDSM to keep me at a distance.
And I don’t know how to change that.
MIKHAIL
I grab a drink from the bar and down it in one swig.
Sofiya is getting to me. She clearly wants us to be closer, but to do that, I’d have to tell her everything. Alexei’s death. Nastasha’s suicide. Ivan Petrov, the man who did it and got away because of his damn heart attack. I’d have to tell her how I cried in my car after it happened. No one has ever seen me cry before.
I put my heart to stone after Alexei’s death, but Sofiya has slowly been cracking away at it. I care deeply for her. But can I give her love? Especially the type of love she wants.
“Looking for a sub?” a woman asks me. She’s cute in a girl-next-door kind of way, but her outfit says otherwise. “Because I’m looking for a man who can make me submit.” She trails her fingers down my chest.
I make a point of taking her hand and placing it on the bar. “Not interested.”
She pouts. “Fine.” Quickly, she sets her eyes on another dom and runs over to him.
I shake my head as I order another drink and gulp that one down just as fast as the first one.
SOFIYA
The door opens, and I sit up, unsure what I’m going to say to Mikhail.
But it’s not Mikhail who enters.
It’s Andrei.
His eyes flick down toward my legs, and I draw the blankets around me, pulling them up to my chin.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “Mikhail will hurt you if he sees you in here.”
“I just want to talk.” He raises his hands in surrender. “I swear. Just talk.”
