Page 86 of Voracious

I kiss the pad of his thumb with a promise.

“Later, when it’s just me and you?” I ask.

He moves my cheek over his dick and there’s even more care in his hands as he does it.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me that even in this place, around these people, I can’t stop wanting you.” His thumb moves over my lips with his own cryptic promise. “When this is all over.”

I look up without moving my head and only get a broken view with the mask covering half of my vision.

“What happens when this is all over?”

He pushes the pad of his thumb over my lips and answers too low for me to understand fully.

“That’s when life starts.”

He pretends to tuck himself away and abruptly pulls me to stand before righting my mask.He would have made a good actor or a director. I don’t have my attention on anyone else, I know they’re there but Dima eclipses them to the point there’s no discomfort at the thought with following through with the act. Grabbing my hips, he pulls me to sit with my back against his chest, his hand automatically going between my thighs as he shifts, pretending to sit me on his dick with his other hand around my throat.

I miss his tattoos and his hand looks weird without them.

The freaks are getting bored of us and I nip the side of Dima’s thigh as I beg, “Hurt me.”

He stiffens and I panic as they look at another table.

“Do it, now, please. I really want you to.”

His fingers flex on my throat and I grunt as he forces my head back. My spine arches like a backwards S and I manage to croak, “Please, Dima.”

Pushing his knees up between mine, he forces my legs apart and grits, “Tell me to fucking stop.”

“It’s a lie,” I whisper before I add an accent and shout, “Please don’t, sir, I’ll be a good little girl for you.”

The brush of air is my first warning as he forces his hand down between my legs and the sting has aftershocks. My thighs twitch, instinctively trying to close, and a pained groan floats above me, but the sick fucks are looking at us again.

“I’m sorry,” I fake cry then whisper, “Do it again, I think I might like it.”

“You might fucking like it,” Dima scoffs as he uses more force and slaps his palm off my clit.

The pain isn’t that bad when it comes from a hand that I know doesn’t want to hurt me, it’s nice and warm. The sting grounding me and my apology isn’t faked as I push more of my weight back so my crown is touching his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for making you hurt me.”

Our masks clink together as he roughly cups between my thighs and his voice is even deeper. “This is mine, I’ve told you before that I look after everything that fucking belongs to me. If you need pain, I’m the only one who fucking gives it to you, do you understand?”

“Is it going to be like the other torture you do to me?” I whisper.

“Yes,” he says roughly. “Pain can be pleasurable, and pleasure can be painful. I don’t want you hurt, I want you so overwhelmed that you can’t think, that you let it all go and allow me to take care of you.”

His hand on my neck flexes and his voice is deeper, vibrating through his chest into me as he grits, “You are fucking mine, hellion.”

“Yes, sir,” I snort.

He fits his lips beside my ear and my eyes close at the warmth washing over me. “One day, lisichka.”

THIRTY-FOUR

Dima

The act I love of having Ana in my arms is being bastardized with the current situation. I’m not letting any of the cunts see her, she is mine, they don’t get shit from her. I make sure her mask is covering her face, keeping my fingers flat on the sides of her neck, and I push my hand between her thighs to cover her.

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