Page 39 of Wicked Pursuit

“When you come, I want you to say my name,” he murmurs in my ear. “My real name.”

“I... get that... now? Lucky me.” Gods, his cock feels good inside me. I don’t understand how I didn’t recognize him as Luke, who I’ve fucked more times than I can count. But then, Luke never fucked me likethis. He was selfless to an outstanding degree, and if sometimes we got a little rough, it was always with me on top and driving things. It never felt dirty or borderline violent.

“Casimir.”

Just like that, everything clicks. The name I barely recognized. The Russian accent. Casimir Romanov. The vicious fixer for the Russian branch of the Romanov family.

The Mad Wolf.

12

The Romanovs don’t have a foothold in Carver City. I don’t know if they ever tried to, but to the best of my knowledge, when they sent over their people from Russia to put down roots in the States, they stuck to the main port cities. Our power structure is older and more insular than a lot of other cities in the country. That remains true to this day.

But that doesn’t explain what he’s doinghere. With me.

I open my mouth to demand answers, but he slaps my clit before I can speak. His voice is harsh in my ear. “Do it, Ruby. Come for me right fucking now.”

Even as my mind rails at his arrogance, at his determination to make me fold, my body is primed and ready to submit. It’s everything I can do to clamp my jaw shut and keep his name trapped on the right side of my teeth. I can’t stop myself from coming, though. My body is too eager for the pleasure he gives.

He curses against my ear. “Stubborn to the bitter end.”

Wolf—Luke—Casimirpulls out of me. I don’t have a chance to figure out what I’m supposed to do next, because he throws me over his shoulder and starts carrying me to the bed. “Time to talk.”

Thatsnaps me out of it. “You son of a bitch.” I beat my fists against his lower back. “You lied to me. You’vebeenlying to me.” For two fucking years. He must have known exactly who I was in that bar that night he hit on me, when we took shots together and ended up fucking in the parking lot. He took me home that night, and within a week, we were official.

A lie.

Casimir pauses in front of the huge trunk of toys, but I don’t have a chance to twist to see what he’s doing before he’s on the move again. He drops me onto the bed. I bounce, and then he’s on top of me, straddling my stomach.

I almost—almost—get distracted by his massive cock right in my face. He’s still hard and coated in my orgasm. I’ve seen his cock like this before, but it’s not the same. It will never be the same again.

He slams a cuff around one wrist and, in one smooth move, clips it into a bar connected to the rings hanging on either side of the headboard. I gasp, but it’s too late. He already has my second wrist bound and clipped in. “You motherfucker.”

He ignores me and moves down my body to give my ankles the same treatment. I try to twist and kick him, but he easily avoids the blow. Within seconds, I’m bound spread-eagle on the bed.

Helpless.

No one even knows where I am, thanks to my lies. I didn’t book the plane ticket with my credit card, so there’s no record of it. I turned in my phone when I arrived at the estate, and I watched the Concierge turn it off, so I can’t rely on location tracking.

I’m fucked.

Casimir climbs off the bed and pulls on his pants. Then he turns back to me. “Now. Speak. Get it off your chest so we can move on.”

His audacity leaves me temporarily speechless. He’s talking as if this has a foregone conclusion, as if this is a little bump on the path to our future. Delusional. I rattle the cuffs against their rings. “Untie me.”

“No.”

I open my mouth to use my safe word but hesitate. Do I believe he’ll ignore it? Or that he’ll actually let me go if I use it? I don’t know which is worse, and that speaks volumes to how fucked my head is right now. But, damn it, I want answers. “How long did you stalk me before we ‘met’ for the first time two years ago?”

He lifts a single dark brow. “A few months. You made it easy. You put every thought in your head on social media.”

My breath whooshes out. The question was a hunch; to have it verified feels... complicated. But he’s answering my questions, so I don’t linger on the emotions clogging my chest. “Why me?”

“You know the answer to that.” He moves around the room, making the same circuit I did when I first got here, examining the toys and tools, poking his head into the bathroom.

Yeah, I guess I do. He picked me because I’m heir to the Belmonte territory—not because he took one look at me and was overwhelmed by wanting. It shouldn’t matter. He’s Casimir fucking Romanov. He’s a fucking stalker, a murderer, an enemy; the answer towhy meshouldn’t make my chest tight and hot.

Carver City has had peace for a long time, and the territory leaders are—mostly—still in their prime and not easy pickings. But us heirs are coming of age, and most of us are taking on more responsibility, training for the roles we’ll one day fill.

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