Page 13 of Twisted Obsession
When she didn’t answer, I stilled my movements, and her body bucked wildly against my hand, desperate for the friction she needed to find her release.
“Is that a ‘yes,’ mykukolka?” I purred, using the Russian endearment that rolled off my tongue like sweet poison.
“Yes, yes. Please don’t stop,” she panted, her voice breathy and desperate.
Slowly, I resumed pumping my fingers in and out of her, drawing out her release, punishing her for her initial defiance. I could feel her tightening around my fingers, her body coiling like a spring ready to release. But just as she was about to shatter, I pulled my fingers out and stood up. Her eyes flew open; her cheeks flushed with the release I had denied her.
“Why did you stop?” she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and frustration as she lifted her head off the pillow.
“Disobedient sluts don’t deserve to come,” I said coldly, pulling the key from my pocket and unlocking her cuffs. “Maybe next time you will learn to be more respectful.” I stepped back, putting some distance between us. “Take a shower. Marta will be up with your dinner.”
Standing to my full six-foot-three height, I opened the door and left the room, my heart pounding in my chest. If I had stayed in that room like I wanted, if I had made sure she did as I commanded, I would have taken her right then and there. The way she felt against my fingers, her slick heat and tight walls, had nearly made me explode like a horny teenager. But I wanted more than to just explore her body, to trail my fingers down the soft curves of her breasts. I wanted to taste every inch of her, to drag my tongue over her porcelain skin, to make her writhe and scream beneath me.
Leaving her room, I felt as though I had lost all sense of control over myself. The memory of her soft, pale skin restingin the palm of my hands, the way her breath hitched, a staccato rhythm, when she was on the verge of release. And that filthy mouth of hers—so tempting, so inviting. I longed to fill it, to feel those lush, pouty, pink lips sliding up and down my length as I thrust into her throat, my hand wrapped tightly around her slender neck. It was as though I could feel my desire pressing against her very flesh.
“Fucking get it together, Dmitri.”
As I pushed open the door to my bedroom, an unyielding ache persisted within me, a relentless throb that refused to subside. The sensation was like a smoldering fire in my loins, clouding my thoughts and making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. Despite the tumult of emotions, there remained an undeniable need to claim her as mine, to make her my wife. Until that moment arrived, I desperately craved some form of release. Unbuttoning my pants, I leaned against the door, pulling out my throbbing desire. With a sharp intake of breath, I spat into my hand, widening my stance, and firmly grasped my length, spreading the slick moisture along the shaft.
My breathing was rapid and uneven as I continued to stroke along my length, my hips instinctively flexing to meet each movement. Images of Larissa flooded my mind, her mouth enveloping me as I thrust deeply, my hands tightly fisting her hair, driving forward with a relentless rhythm that barely allowed her to breathe. Her hands bound, she surrendered willingly, letting me take my fill.
A deep groan rumbled from my chest and sweat glistened on my forearm as I continued to pump my desire through the tight circle of my fist. Knowing that this could never truly compare to the warmth of Larissa’s eager mouth, my hips stuttered, and my release spilled across my hand. Closing myeyes, I saw her eagerly swallow every drop, her eyes locked onto mine with burning intensity.
Chapter Seven
Lara
The very man who ended my parents’ life was the same man whose touch had ignited a fire within me. I was in disbelief, grappling with the reality that I had once begged him to bring me to the peak of pleasure.How could I have surrendered so easily to a murderer?The sensations he evoked in me were unlike anything I had ever experienced. I had explored my own body before, but never had I reached such dizzying heights. Beyond the shame, a seething anger simmered within me because he had stopped. He had just stopped.
As my hand traced a path down my body, I resolved to finish what he had begun. Although my touch couldn’t quite replicate his, it offered a semblance of relief. With my eyes closed, I conjured an image of Dmitri’s hands gliding over my skin. My fingers found their way to my breast, tweaking my nipple between them while I plunged a finger inside me, feelingthe tension build as my muscles tightened around it. I withdrew my finger, trailing it along my folds and circling my clit before sinking it back inside. Again and again, I repeated this rhythm, applying more pressure to my nipple as I pinched it between my fingers.
Dmitri’s words echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder: “You are so wet for me. I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll forget your name.”
“Dmitri. Oh, God. Yes”
I surrendered to the waves of my orgasm, releasing a cry so powerful that I was certain it reached the ears of the guard outside. As the water cascaded down my body and the haze of my release faded, I opened my eyes, tormented by the thoughts that refused to leave my mind. Overcome by shame, I slid down the tiled wall, wrapping my arms around my knees.
I had no sense of how long I remained there, but the chill of the water jolted me back to reality. Rising from my position, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. When I exited the bathroom, I noticed Marta had left my dinner tray beside the door, as she did every other time.
Even though every meal Marta had brought me had been amazing, this was still a prison. I still had no idea what Dmitri planned on doing to me. He made his presence known only twice in the week he held me captive. But no matter my circumstances, if I wanted to escape, I had to keep up my strength.
After I ate everything on my plate, I did what I did every other night—thought of a way out of here as I stared out the window overlooking the property. By staring out the window repeatedly, I learned the staff’s comings and goings, and eventhe guards’ locations. The staff arrived at 6:00 a.m. sharp every morning and left by 10:00 p.m. Marta was never among them that I could tell, so I assumed she remained at the mansion. There were a couple of times when men of power came to visit. I knew this because they were all flanked by guards. When I had seen enough, I moved over to the bed and pulled the thin blanket over me. A few minutes later, sleep took over and my world went black.
“You are nothing but a coward, Larissa Zhukov,” Alena spat venomously as she shoved me to the ground, her words slicing through the air like a whip. “You should have kept your mouth shut.”
My heart pounded like a war drum as I sprinted through the echoing halls of Greenville Preparatory School, the laughter of my peers ringing in my ears like a cruel symphony. I could sense Alena’s relentless pursuit behind me, her entourage of friends trailing like a pack of wolves. Desperation clawed at me; I had to escape her grasp. Alena was a bully, a menacing figure whose father ruled as the don of the Carponi family. Her disdain for me ran deep, fueled by my Russian heritage. It didn’t matter that I was born in the States; to her, I was still a detested Ruskie. I pushed myself to keep running, my feet pounding against the floor until I burst through the school’s front doors. But as I descended the steps, my footing slipped, and I crashed to my knees. Agony shot up my leg, a fiery reminder of my fall, yet I forced myself to continue.
Tears blurred my vision as I lay on my bed, my knees stinging and smeared with blood. Papa entered my room, his gaze heavy with disappointment and concern. He didn’t need to ask what had happened; he already knew. With a resignedshake of his head, he left, only to return moments later holding a first aid kit.
“Solnishko,little sun, you will never face your demons if you continue to run. Always remember to stand up and face them with courage,” Papa advised softly, his voice a soothing balm as he carefully placed a Band-Aid on my wounded knee.
“Lidia, you need to take Lara out of here. The Antonovs will retaliate. They will stop at nothing until they kill all of us.” My papa’s words were strained and tense as I stood by his office door and listen to him talk to my mama.
“Andrei, what have you done?” Mama asked in a shaky voice.
“I did what had to be done. Why must you always question me? You can’t stay here.” The sound of my papa’s hand coming across my mama’s face surprised me. He had never hit her before.
“What’s happened to you, Andrei?” Mama cried. “We should have done the right thing long ago and told her the truth.”
