Page 74 of Dance with Death

What the hell happened?

I vaguely remember Nikolai’s brother bringing me to his office.

But why was I with Nikolai’s brother?

We were drinking.

Yes.

His brother had forced me to partake until I reached a point of total inebriation before taking me to Nikolai’s office. They were both there, so was Kostya. And there was another man, too...someone I’d never seen before and haven’t seen since.

But why was he there?

“We signed something,” I say slowly, testing the words for myself more than to ask him.

Nikolai grabs the back of my head and yanks me toward him in a flash. His lips fall against mine to silence me and he’s successful because I’m too lost in searching my memory to fight him off. He moans against my mouth, parting my lips with a sweep of his tongue. I kiss back, an old habit from when I was his obedient little fuck girl.

Nikolai stops kissing for a beat and speaks with his lips brushing against mine. “Sit on my cock, Anya, sink me deep inside you.”

My brain stops searching for the memory and snaps me back into the moment. My heart beats faster, pulsing an old, familiar danger signal through my veins. My eyebrows slant toward my nose in determination as I yank my hands away from his grip.

“No,” I tell him and my heart races, knowing how stupid it is to refuse him, but feeling compelled to all the same.

I sit back on my heels, turning my face away and brace for his rage, his outburst, his violent attack against my bold disobedience.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, his hands rush to remove his clothes. He stands, his hips only inches from my face as he loosens and removes his tie before working the buttons of his shirt. He tosses them both aside and rushes to his buckle. I’m frozen, shocked, overwhelmed, dangerously curious that he hasn’t beaten me, cut me, bent me over and fucked me painfully from behind for my refusal.

In moments, he’s naked before me, cock standing proud and thick, heavy with lust. He lowers quickly to sit on the edge of the bed again, grabbing my hair on the way down and dragging me forward. I think he’s going to force me to take him inside my mouth and I swallow hard. But he surprises me yet again; instead, he lifts up on my hair, pulling a thick section high above my head and tugging painfully until I’m scrambling to get on my feet to lessen the pressure.

My breaths quicken, my heart thumping hard. I see the Nikolai I once knew return now that he’s descended into a feral, sexually desperate state.

He releases my hair once I’m standing and grasps my hips. He pulls me forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my belly button. His tongue sweeps out, drawing flat across my skin and my body responds. He breathes out harshly through his nose, the rush of air heating my flesh, and I watch his shoulders tremble as he inhales my scent.

Hetrembles.

I’ve seen him in the throes of passion, but I’ve never seen him tremble with need. I struggle to make sense of that as his fingers reach down to cup my bottom, squeezing and pulling me closer. His lips graze lower, traveling down until he reaches the curls above my sex, and the heat of his breath drags sensation down with it. I feel the rush of need dampen my core and sadness rushes with it, too.

Nikolai lifts me with his strong arms, slipping his knee between my legs, forcing them apart. He shifts me until I’m straddling him. With one arm wrapped firmly around my back, he reaches between us with the other, grasping his thick erection and positioning me to take it.

I press my eyes shut and feel a tear slip from the corner, gliding slowly down my cheek. He lines me up and pushes me down, making me take his cock all the way, deep inside me. I let him take my weight, let him hold me against him because I’ve lost the strength to hold myself up.

This is too much.

It was only hours ago that I made love to Ezra, just like this. And Nikolai is taking that moment from me now. It hurts so much more that he’s behaving differently than I’ve ever known him to be.

He pushes my hair over my shoulder so it drapes behind my back before he kisses the nick on my neck where I attempted to cut myself.

“I dare you not to move,” he says to me. “I dare you not to fuck me, to hold still while I touch you, kiss you, lick you, drive you to the point of madness.”

Bastard.

Anger replaces my sadness and it kickstarts my pulse, racing a fever of rage through my veins that threatens to explode from my pores. I can’t stop myself from lashing out, not now, not while he tricks my body into wanting pleasure from him.

I shove my hands against his bare chest, pushing as I arch my back away from him. He doesn’t budge and I remain firmly in his grasp with his arms tight around me. I shout out my anger and beat my fists against his chest, but it doesn’t faze him. Instead, it only heightens his awareness and feeds his lust.

His mouth clamps over the crook of my neck and he sucks in a gentle, sensual rhythm—not his usual biting fervor; this time it’s softer and more sexual. I could cry with the way he worships my skin with his mouth, drawing across my collarbone to the hollow of my throat as I lean away.

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