Page 13 of Twisted Cage

Jesus Christ, she’s everywhere. Relentlessly taking shots at my control. She’s absolutely maddening. If it wasn’t directed at me, I’d be proud. “It’s not right.”

“Says who?”

“God.”

“God? So what’s his opinion on the killing, the drugs, the illegal weapons, the whole foundation of our family being built on a life of crime?”

“You’re trying every bit of patience I have, Pcholka.”

“The same way you try mine.” Neither of us blinks as the air grows thick with the challenge she’s sprung between us. My knuckles turn white with the force of my closed fists as a war wages inside me.

She bites her bottom lip and drags her teeth along the flesh, a nervous habit of hers that looks a whole lot less innocent now. Now it only makes me want to shove my cock between those lips until she’s choking on every inch with tears streaming down her cheeks as she gags on me.

Her fingers unfurl from the towel and a strangled sound comes from my throat, making us lock eyes on one another.

“Hold on, Kostya. I’m about to try your patience even more.” Her hands fall away from the towel and just a mere second later, the terry cloth slides to the floor at her feet.

My control snaps under the weight of wanting. Any bit of resolve crumbles. I suck in a rush of breath, my shoulders swelling, and in one long stride I’m on her. Looming over her. Just one kiss. She’ll still be a virgin, a point she proudly made. She won’t be sullied by one kiss.

My fingers spearing through her hair, I yank her head back and drag her fresh mouth up to mine.

Slanting my mouth over her stubborn one, I plunder until my tongue takes command of hers with long, seductive strokes.

Blood rushes to my head and I sway on my feet as every taste of her only makes me greedy for more. Until I’m helplessly devouring her. A starving man who had no idea what wanting really meant until now, until she stands naked before me.

The helpless hungry sounds from her throat make my pulse pound behind my eyes as she leans into me, her full breasts pressed between us as I taste her over and over, her mouth imprinting on me, changing me, making it impossible to go back even if it’s impossible to move forward.

Warm and wet, she gives as good as she gets with that mouth, making me wonder who taught her to kiss like this. Was it some guy in Paris? Another student? Maybe a dancer? I growl at the image of her in some pathetic kid’s arms as he gropes her with no finesse, only reaching for his own selfish pleasure without worrying about hers.

In my mind I’m there, pulling him off her. Tossing him to the side and taking her for my own. Until I catch sight of us in a mirror. Her eighteen years to my forty-eight. The years etched on my face a stark reminder of who I am, who I’m supposed to be to her, and why this is all wrong.

“No. No.” I let her go and she stumbles away from me, the stricken look on her face tinged with humiliation and rejection.

Her parted swollen lips are too much and I have to glance away. This isn’t right. I made a vow to God. And yeah, she shot all kinds of holes in that promise, but what of the one I made to her father? Her mother? And now her brother?

This attraction has no life outside of the confines of this room. Now I just have to figure out how to control it because right now it’s controlling me.

“Get dressed,” I snap as I spin away from her.

7

NIKOLETTA

An hour passed since the kiss and still the man won’t speak to me. I feel his lips all the way to my bones. It doesn’t matter how much he fights it, his mouth on mine, devouring me, it only bolsters my resolve. Even if he can’t let himself consider a future with me, there’s only one person I can imagine losing my virginity to, and it’s him.

He is the one who bought me. Oh, the irony.

The candles flicker, straining to stay lit in the pool of melted wax flooding them. He’s sitting by the door, his back to the wall, his gaze on me from as far away as he can get. When I look him in the eye, he looks away.

He’s full of shame and for once, I have none.

He pushes to his feet and blows out the one nearest him. It’s okay. It’s just one. There’s still more lit. I bite back the whimper when he blows out the second. Holding my breath, I pray that he’ll stop, so I don’t have to tell him the truth of my fear, but then he blows out the third and I wheeze out a lungful of air.

“Fuck,” he mutters. I hear the sound of a lighter as I grip the edge of the mattress and focus on moving air in and out.

“Why are you so paralyzed by the dark?”

“Vlad.”

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