Page 11 of Dancing With Delusion

“You’re a fucking coward,” she screams as I lay into Marshall. Her words fade out as I focus on the task at hand. Each punch releases a little more of the anger that’s been building inside me since last night.

When he’s lying still on the ground, his face unrecognisable, I step back and wipe my hands down my suit trousers. I’m short of breath, and it reminds me I need to push harder in the gym. “Get the doctor to look him over,” I mutter, grabbing my jacket.

Victoria’s words suddenly come back into focus, and I realise she’s still yelling. I give Nik another nod, and he releases her. She’s about to go to Marshall, which only pisses me off more, so I grab her wrist and haul her against me. “You’re lucky he didn’t witness your orgasm because he would be dead. You show your cunt to anyone other than me, I’ll cut their fucking eyes out. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” she spits, pulling free.

Her anger instantly ignites something inside me. It’s been over forty-eight hours since I was inside her, and I’m done being mad. “Dungeon.”

“No,” she growls. “No fucking way.”

I grab a handful of her hair and pull her to me. “Marshall understands,” I tell her. “It had to be done.”

“You knew what I was like the minute we met. I’m not going to change to fit into your idea of perfection. If I upset you, come to me. Punish me.”

I sneer, nipping along her jaw. “Oh, my sweet krasota, that’s exactly what I’m about to do.”

Tori

Dmitry tosses me over his shoulder with ease. A thrill shoots through me at the thought of being punished, it’s what I’ve been craving. I’ve been hanging on by a thread for the last twenty-four hours and I need an outlet, but I won’t make this easy, not after witnessing that shitshow.

Hanging upside down helplessly, I stare at Marshall still slumped on the floor, battered and bruised. I feel a pang of guilt that yet again my games have hurt someone I actually like.

“Put me down, you fucking wanker,” I scream, hitting Dmitry’s back as he carries me out the barn and back towards the house. He doesn’t say a word as he storms across the courtyard.

He takes two steps at a time and enters the house, making his way to the dungeon of doom.

I grin to myself. I was getting sick of him ignoring me, and I wasn’t sure what to do with myself or how to gain his attention. Seems I’ve managed it.

Reaching the dungeon, he places me on my feet at the end of the bed.

“Strip,” he orders.

I curl my lips into a smirk, folding my arms over my chest. Leaning forward, I whisper, “Fuck you. Sir.” My voice is laced with sarcasm. I give a little chuckle for good measure, knowing exactly how to get under his skin to get my own way. If this tosser thinks he’s in control, he’s met his match.

He stiffens at my words, and I see his jaw ticking while he weighs his next move. “Victoria, do you recall what happened the last time we did this little dance?”

I smile with confidence and realise I must be deranged. I’ve just watched him beat Marshall within an inch of his life, yet all I crave is the pain that only Dmitry can offer me. “You have to fucking catch me first. Sir.”

I’m poking the beast and I know it, but the urge to cut has been strong lately and this will quench the need.

Dmitry dives towards me, but I step back, just avoiding his reach. He lets out a low growl, and his eyes dance with excitement as I rush to the side of the bed.

Stalking towards me with a murderous look in his eyes, Dmitry sniggers.

I jump onto the bed, trying to cut across so I can make my way to the door, which is my only exit, but I’m not fast enough. He grabs my ankle, and I faceplant the bed.

Flipping me over, he pins my arms either side of me as I thrash from side to side, trying to escape his clutches.

He leans down, inches from my face. “Victoria, stop.” I still at his command, his gravelly voice sending thrills to my core. I inhale his scent, closing my eyes and arching my back off the bed, my body deceiving me with the need for connection. He nips at my neck, and I groan in pleasure. “There she is,” he whispers, and I feel his smile against my neck. “My good krasota.” I relish his praise.

He releases my hands, ripping open my blouse and sending the buttons scattering across the wooden floor. I sigh, and he smirks down at me. “I warned you, Victoria.” He reaches down, freeing my breast from my bra, and licks across my chest and over to my sensitive nipple, biting down hard enough to make me cry out in frustration.

“Dmitry,” I growl in a low voice, “fuck me. Hurt me. I need pain.” He shakes his head, “Not tonight, my krasota. Tonight, this is your punishment. You will gain no satisfaction.” I frown. Surely, he’s over it by now. I need his punishment.

His tongue trails down my abdomen, and I raise my hips to his face, trying to direct where I crave him most. He pushes my trousers down my legs, blowing gently on my sweet spot but keeping my lace underwear in place.

I whimper. “Please, Dmitry.” I don’t even care that I’m begging right now.

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