Page 11 of Craving Dahlia

His growling voice jolts me out of my fog. I sit up, trying to think of something, and fumble under my bed, finding a basket that has scarves and belts in it. I shiver when my hand touches leather, imagining what he could do to me with one of those, but I pull out a silk scarf instead, handing it to him.

He steps to the edge of the bed, his gaze intent on me, and he folds the scarf over, his gaze never leaving mine as he holds it up.

“Don’t let it slip,gertsoginya,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly deadly serious. “If you see me, I’ll have to punish you.” He brushes his knuckles against the back of my cheek, and as his jacket shifts, I see a glimpse of the gun again. “I might not even feel like I could let you live.”

My eyes widen, and I stare up at him, looking for some hint of humor in his face, in his voice. It’s a bad joke—but it’s a joke…right?

“You’re kidding?” My voice trembles, and Alek’s expression never moves.

“Maybe.” He moves the blindfold closer. “Don’t find out,devochka.”

I shudder as the cold silk presses against my eyes. He brings the ends of it up under my hair, tying it tightly, so tightly that it will be difficult for it to slip or get it off without unknotting it. Suddenly my world is dark, and I shudder, fear spiking through the arousal that’s still pulsing through me.

“Alek—”

“Sit there.” His voice is a sharp command. “Wait for me.”

I nod, feeling shakier than ever, so incredibly vulnerable. Every inch of my skin is bare, prickling in the cool air of the room, and every sound is suddenly magnified. The slide of his leather jacket against his sweater, the softthudas it hits thefloor. The heavy, metallicclunkof his gun as it lands on my nightstand. My head tilts towards the sound, and my heart beats faster with every piece of clothing that I can hear him removing.

I hear his footsteps, coming closer. The anticipation prickles along my skin, heightening with every step, until he’s standing directly in front of me.

His knuckles brush over my cheek again, down the side of my throat. I gasp at the touch, everything magnified by the loss of vision, the stroke of his fingers over the line of my collarbones, down between my breasts,overmy breasts dragging a moan from my lips. His fingers tweak my nipples, pinching them, twisting them, and he groans aloud.

He reaches down, grabbing my waist, and I let out a squeak of shock as he tosses me back against the pillows. I feel the bed sink slightly under his weight as he follows me atop it, and then the rough slide of his palms against my inner thighs as he parts my legs. “Open them wide for me,” he commands sharply. “I want to see.”

Without the blindfold, obeying would have still felt impossibly vulnerable.Withit, I feel completely laid bare, exposed in a way that makes me feel fearful and aroused all at once. But I obey him, not only because I’m a little afraid after the ‘joke’ he made, but also because Iwantto.

Something tells me that I’m never going to have an experience like this again, not unless he wants more than a one night.

I spread my legs open, and even without being able to see, I canfeelhis gaze between my thighs. “Krasivyy,” he murmurs, something almost rapt in his voice, and I feel him move forward, between my spread legs. I feel the swollen head of his cock slide through my folds, and I gasp with pleasure as the tip nudges my clit, my hips rolling upwards. But sense breaks through my fog of lust for one brief second.

“Condom. We need a condom,” I manage.

Alek pauses. “I don’t have one,” he says. “I’ll pull out.”

Unreasonably, heat sears through my veins at the thought of having him bare inside of me again. Those few minutes that he fucked me up against the wall were so incredibly, unthinkably good. I’ve never had a man inside me without a condom before, and the feeling of bare skin against skin was something I hadn’t thought could change the experience so much. But the lack of that thin latex barrier made all the difference, and the thought of this man fucking me raw makes a shudder of pure lust run through me.

I’m about to protest, to tell him we need to anyway, that I have some in the nightstand. But then I feel his body shift, and his hips snap forward, burying himself inside of me again. He groans aloud, his hips twitching as he sinks to the hilt, holding himself deeply inside for a moment as his breathing turns ragged.

“Make sure you pull out,” I gasp, because I know there’s no chance he’s stopping now. And deep down, I don’t want him to. His hot, bare, straining cock feels so good inside of me, and as he thrusts again, my back arches as my legs come up to wrap around his hips. “Oh god,Alek—” I moan his name, in the instant before I feel something odd against my inner thigh.

Where it’s pressed to his hip, I feel a thick, ridged strip of skin. Alek’s hips snap against mine again, his groan mingling with my sounds of pleasure as he starts to fuck me in earnest, Russian curses spilling from his lips, and I reach up to touch his chest. He didn’t tell me I couldn’t, and he didn’t tie me up. I want to feel him.

In the instant that I slide my hands over his skin, I knew why he blindfolded me. He’s heavily scarred. My fingers glide over a map of twisted lines and roughened flesh, over his chest, his stomach, down to the taut flesh just above where his cock isthrusting into me. If I ran my hands over his arms, his legs, I imagine I’d find more, and I think of the scar on his face, the only one I’ve actually seen.

Something tightens in my chest, an emotion that I know is pity. I can’t imagine how someone could end up with that much scarring, but I know that’s why Alek blindfolded me. Not only because he didn’t want me to see the scars, but because he didn’t want to see shock or pity in my eyes as he fucked me.

He grabs my hands, pinning them over my head as he leans down, his lips searing against mine as he kisses me roughly. His chest presses against my breasts as his hips move in an urgent rhythm, and my nipples tighten at the sensation of his hot, hard body moving against me. I can feel his scars against my skin, now, that sensation heightened like all the others, and I’m suddenly glad for the blindfold. For whatever reason—because the pleasure is so intense, more so than anything else I’ve felt before, or because I have a man inside of me bare for the first time, or because I’m about to come for the third time in one night…or maybe because I can feel that this man who is pressed against me so intimately is a map of pain that he can’t bear to let anyone else see—I feel hot tears pricking at the corner of my eyes.

Alek’s hips grind against mine, the taut flesh of his abdomen rubbing against my clit, and I moan, my head thrown back as I arch into him. We’re pressed together tightly, every inch from his mouth slanted over mine to where our legs are tangled together, and I can feel his rhythm becoming choppy, his hips jerking against me with every thrust as his breathing turns labored.

He’s close. I tear my mouth away from his as his hands tighten painfully around my wrists, my back arching, my body rolling frantically with his every movement as I chase my orgasm. Alek’s lips find my throat, dragging down the column ofit, biting, sucking, and his ragged groan is what pushes me to the very brink.

“Come,gertsoginya,” he moans. “I can’t last any longer.”

The thought, once again, that I’m the reason this brutal man is coming undone is what tips me over. The orgasm tears through me, my moans turning to a shriek of pleasure as I tighten around him, rippling and fluttering along the length of his cock as I come hard. My legs wind around him, my body arching and writhing as I chase the pleasure, and I feel his teeth in my neck, his lips sucking, his fingers bruising on my wrists as he thrusts into me once more with a painful force.

“Yebat—”He curses aloud, his voice a snarl, and I feel him pull back. I open my eyes on instinct, moaning at the loss of sensation, but it’s all still dark behind the blindfold. I hear his ragged breathing, his groan of pleasure, the fevered slap of his fist along his cock—and then I feel him pitch forward, the hot spray of his cum coating my breasts, my stomach, down to the edge of my abdomen as he paints me with his cum. “Okh moy chertov bog?—”

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