Page 23 of Zafira

“My needs? What do you know about my needs, Rusu? You’ve been by my side for over forty years. In all that time, twenty of which I was a widow without a man by my side, you didn’t address my so-called needs or cared whether I attended to them. Not once! So, what the fuck gives you the right or makes you an expert on my needs all of a sudden?”

Bogdan didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he picked her up, draped her over one shoulder like a bag of potatoes, and carried her toward the private bedroom at the back of the plane.

“Poshel na khuy, Rusu. Pyeryestan’! Put me down!”

“Yep, that’s what we’re gonna be doing, but I’ll be the one fucking since you don’t seem to be interested.”

“I’m warning you, Rusu. I’m going to rip you a new asshole if you don’t let me go.”

“Such eloquence,” he mocked as he shouldered his way through the narrow doorway without lowering her. Once inside, he dropped her unceremoniously on the bed, smiling as she bounced, her legs and arms all over the place.

At first, Zafira didn’t move, too angry to react, until his gaze traveled over her body.

“Pervert!” she said contemptuously. Even though she was wearing pants, her widespread legs appeared too inviting. Scrambling back, she sat up, folding her legs under her.

“Still in denial, Zafira? Even after our night at the club?”

His smooth, gravelly voice tore open an opulent seam of flourishing sexual desire that cocooned the nerve endings in her loins. Her breath caught as shards of heat spiked through her core.

The tip of her rose-colored tongue brushed her lips as she stared at him. Unbeknownst to her, the desire for him was evident in her eyes. Regardless, the usually confident Comare was suddenly unsure how to act, what to say, and petrified he would change his mind and leave her high and dry in her lustful state.

“Well?” he prodded.

Zafira knew he wouldn’t give her a quarter. This wasn’t the Bogdan Rusu who followed orders. This was Master Slayer, the Dom who had full and complete control over her as a submissive. He had come into his own as a powerful and confident man who knew what he wanted, and although he could easily take her without asking, he wanted her to admit she needed him. In her heart, she had already given in to him. As the mighty Matriarch, she refused to back down too quickly.

Bogdan might be the more experienced seducer between the two of them, but he was no less affected. Her eyes smoldered as she detected pearlescent beads of sweat situated in a random design on his upper lip.

Closing her eyes, she slowed her breathing to calm her nerves and arrest the unabating throb in her loins in anticipation of an almost certain outcome about to unfold. It was useless to refute what Bogdan already knew. She wanted him, and she was done denying herself the pleasure only he could bring.

“Well? What is it you want from me, Bogdan? Acknowledgment that your dominance excites me? That I have never climaxed as hard or as many times as I did with you that night at the club? That even now, in denial, my loins are on fire and my clit is throbbing incessantly? That I need you to control my body, do what you did that night, and unleash the woman inside me? Yes, Master Slayer... I admit to all the above and more.” She slowly pulled off her sweater and leaned back on the bed, her naked breasts glowing in the soft downlights of the cabin. “So, what more do you want to hear, Bogdan.”

“That’ll be quite enough for now,” he said in his dark Dom voice that sent a fresh wave of heat rushing into her loins.

She was enthralled by the sudden roughness in his voice and the expectant look on his face. His arousal was apparent in every flex of his thickly muscled frame.

“You’re slightly overdressed for what I have in mind. Lose the pants and shoes, subbie.”

Zafira briefly pressed her thighs together, suddenly desperate to curb her sexual excitement. The instantaneous chemical attraction and reckless impulsiveness for him were a foreign concept to her. It scared her but excited the hell out of her just as much. Watching him undress to his tight Calvin Klein boxers, she quickly shimmied out of the pants and kicked off her sneakers.

“Lie back and spread your legs wide open.”

“Bogdan, I don’t— Blyad’! What was that for?” Zafira wailed as she rubbed the burning palm print on her upper thigh.

“You’ve been in the lifestyle long enough to know the dynamics have changed, subbie.”

“Sweet fucking hell,” she mumbled. “You could’ve just told me... Master Slayer,” she emphasized the moniker in a clipped voice.

“I shouldn’t have to, my pet.” His voice turned a shade darker. “Now, do I need to repeat the instruction?”

“No, Sir.” Still, she hesitated. In the light of day, she wasn’t as confident as she had been that night in the dungeon or later in the private room, high on endorphins. At sixty-four, her skin wasn’t as tight as twenty years ago, and she didn’t have the perfect pink labia like the younger subs. Suddenly, she felt old, flabby, and wrinkled.

“Now, that kind of attitude is only gonna piss me off. You are beautiful, Zafira. In my eyes, you have always been the perfect woman... you still are.”

Zafira shouldn’t be surprised that he read her insecurities so accurately. He had proved himself to be one of the most powerful dominants she had ever come across.

“Thank you, Master Slayer,” she murmured as she reverently spread her legs wide open.

“That’s better... and very, very pretty indeed.” For long moments, he just stared. The heat sparking in the depth of his eyes set her mind at ease. He wasn’t lying. He found her attractive, beautiful even, and he lusted after her... as much as she did him.

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