Page 129 of Little Blue

“What the hell, Ilya?” She rattles another, her eyes wild as they look over her shoulder before she runs to the next, down the long hall—almost to the end.

When I’d asked Polina and Daniil to leave only the lamp on, I’d also asked them to lock every door but one.

It appears they listened.

I grin.

Irelynn makes a noise of frustration that is ribboned with the most intoxicating fear-filled excitement. My dick is so hard, it’s ready to burst the zipper of my pants.

I take a quick step toward her and she abandons yet another locked door for the door at the very end of the hall. Her gasp of surprise when it opens, and she tumbles inside is fucking exquisite. She’d thought I’d catch her there at the end of the hall, having my way with her on the hard floor.

With the door open, I sprint down the remainder of the hall. My body connects with the door just before it latches shut, and I shove just hard enough to let her know she doesn’t have a hope of keeping me out.

Through the crack in the door, I see her hand slap the light switch. “Shit,” she gasps, when the room fails to ignite.

I’d also asked that the breaker to everything apart from the electric fireplace I’d had installed in this room be turned off. Again, it appears my instructions have been followed.

She screams. Another rush of hot blood surges into my dick. She abandons the door and tries to run inside the room.

I slip in, slamming the door closed before I lock it—locking us into complete darkness.

“Ilya,” she pleads my name.

“Giving yourself up to me so easily?” I stalk slowly in the direction of her voice. She lets out a squeak, before she scurries. I can hear the soft material of her socked feet on the floor, and I pause, cocking my head to listen.

I pivot.

She goes still. She must. I can’t hear her.

“How do you like to run now, Little Blue?” I grin wide into the darkness. The moon is high and full outside, but I’d had heavy velvet drapes hung over the windows. Before Polina and Daniil left, I’d asked them to pull them closed over the windows. Not even a sliver of silver moonlight bleeds through or around the curtains.

Heavy breaths sound to my right. I start that way, letting my feet fall loudly as I stalk toward her.

I know I’m close when the legs of a table scrape against the floor and a whispered, “Shoot,” precedes the sound of running feet.

But she’s not fast enough to escape me. She will never be fast enough to escape me.

“Caught you, Little Blue,” I murmur as I pull her into my arms. Her back slams into my chest a second time tonight, but now she can’t miss the erection I’m sporting in my pants as it presses into her low back.

I pin her into place with one big hand around her delicate throat, squeezing with just enough pressure to make her heart quicken. My other hand roams to the hot V between her legs.

I cup her sex over her leggings. “Are you wet for me?”

“Ilya,” she protests.

I give her throat a squeeze. “Answer me, Little Blue. Is your hot pussy wet for me?”

“Yes.” She breathes a husky whisper.

“How wet?”

“Soaked.” With that, she rolls her hips into my hand, seeking pressure.

Fucking hell.

I pull my hand away and she whimpers a sexy as sin protest before she realizes my intent. Hooking the band of her leggings, I shove my hand inside. Her body twitches, breath hitching. In the darkness like this, everything is heightened. Every touch is more extreme. Every breath more intense. Every whispered plea is more.

Sliding two fingers over her clit, she bucks into my touch as I sink into the wet warmth of her.

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