Page 65 of Dangerous Beginnings

His gaze remains locked onto mine, an unspoken command in his eyes, as he secures my wrists with one hand. With the other, he reaches for his tie—a familiar black silk tie that I’ve seen him wear countless times. The sight of it sends a shiver down my spine. He loosens the fabric with practiced ease, then begins to bind my wrists to the headboard with deliberate precision. Each knot tightens my pulse, the restraint both thrilling and terrifying.

My hair spills out around me, a wild halo framing my flushed face. My skin is stained a deep red from the heat of our earlier moments, and my breath comes in uneven gasps. His thumb brushes across my lips, the cool metal of his rings grazing my skin. There’s a gentleness to his touch that contrasts sharply with the power he exerts, a paradox that leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

My lips part instinctively, and when his thumb edges into my mouth, I wrap my lips around it, sucking lightly. His gaze darkens, a flicker of something dangerous passing through his eyes. A few seconds pass, thick with tension, before he pulls away and rises from the bed, leaving me bound and helpless.

He strides into the adjacent room, and I’m left staring at the ceiling, my heart pounding in my chest. When he returns, there’s nothing in his hands, but as he turns to remove his coat, I catch a glimpse of something shiny in his pocket—a knife. My stomach twists with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Aslanov drapes his coat over the chair beside the bed, then begins unbuttoning his black shirt. My eyes are drawn to his chest, where each undone button reveals more of the intricate tattoos that cover his skin. His body is a masterpiece of ink and muscle, each design telling a story that I can’t quite decipher. When he’s finished, he leaves the shirt open, the fabric hanging loosely over his broad shoulders, teasing me with the promise of what lies beneath.

He’s so fucking powerful, every inch of him exuding dominance and control. The air between us thickens with unspoken tension as our eyes remain locked, the silence charged with anticipation. I am so intimate with him, that I will know every detail of his body.

Aslanov clicks his tongue, a small sound that feels like a command in the oppressive quiet. He moves closer, his presence overwhelming as he looms above me once more. With aswift motion, he draws the knife from his pocket, the blade catching the moonlight as he slices through my shirt in one fluid movement. The fabric falls away, revealing my black lace bralette, and a faint, unreadable expression flickers in his eyes before disappearing.

His gaze lingers on my exposed skin, taking in the delicate lace that barely covers me. The air feels electric, every nerve in my body attuned to his slightest movement. He slides the skirt down my legs, the roughness of his hands a stark contrast to the soft fabric as it pools on the floor.

Then, his hand pauses between my legs, his fingers hooking the edge of my panties and pushing them aside. His thumb finds my sensitive clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. The touch sends a jolt of pleasure through me, my vision blurring as the intensity of the moment overwhelms my senses. All of it melds together in a heady mix of fear, desire, and submission. My vision hazes.

Aslanov

So help me God.

She’s more beautiful than I ever allowed myself to imagine. Her long, fiery red hair fans out across the black silk pillow, a stark contrast that makes her look even more ethereal, like a forbidden vision come to life. Her body arches at my touch, a delicate rose unfurling in the dark, each breath she takes pulling me deeper into a place I should never have ventured.

She has no idea what she’s done to me.

I’ve broken my own rules for her. From the moment our eyes met in that cold, sterile prison, I knew I was stepping onto dangerous ground. She was just another mark, another pawn in a game I’ve played a thousand times before. But the second she looked up at me with those wide, brown eyes, everything changed. I should’ve walked away then. I should’ve let someoneelse deal with her.

But I couldn’t.

Now, here she is, in my bed, her sweet moans filling the room like a siren’s song, calling to the darkest parts of me. The memory of her on her knees, looking up at me with a mix of fear and something else—something darker—has etched itself into my mind. It’s like a brand, seared so deep beneath my inked skin that no amount of time will ever remove it.

I shouldn’t want this.

But I can’t stop.

Her body responds to every touch, every movement of my fingers as I rub her aching clit. She’s soft and yielding under me, completely unaware of the war raging inside my head. Bending down, I breathe in her scent, a mixture of innocence and something sweeter, something just for me. I bite back the groan that threatens to escape, swallowing the primal urge that rises within me.

The need to mark her, to make her mine, is overwhelming. I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s a raw, brutal desire to claim her in a way that will ruin her for anyone else, a way that will ensure she’s mine, even if she doesn’t want to be. The thought sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine, my control slipping further away with every second.

She stirs beneath me, her body responding to my touch in ways that drive me to the brink of madness. I’ve been with countless women, used them, discarded them. But this one…this one is different. She’s wormed her way under my skin, wrapped herself around the parts of me that I’ve kept locked away for years.

I want to mark her, to leave a piece of myself on her soul, something that will never fade. So that even if she walks away from me, even if she tries to forget, she’ll always carry this moment with her.

Isabella

I pull at the binds at my wrists as his fingers rub the most sensitive spot. It feels way too good. This is so wrong; he’s going to destroy me. Yet every fiber of my being responds when he touches me. He’s my first, I’ve always kept my distance from men. I have never been interested either. It all changed once he came along, he heightened my senses in ways I never thought were possible.

Suddenly my bralette snaps open. I gasp as his hot mouth collides with my nipple. All the same while his other hand works on my clit. My stomach flips an inferno of lust raging through my middle and scorching up my spine. I move my hips towards his fingers, wanting more. Craving more, a frustrated groan fills me. I can feel his mouth curl up in a smirk against my raw and hot skin, “where are your manners, Izabella?”Not here.

His hot breath touches my skin, his Russian accent intoxicates me from inside.

“Please, more.”

I don’t need to see his face to know he’s looking at me like the Devil. The problem was that I summoned him myself. I let him in myself.

“Say my name solnyshko.” His voice is raw and his touch ignites.

The hold on my body roughens as he circles my clit and nipple.

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