Page 33 of Delicious Prey

For the first time in two years, I don’t wake up screaming. At first I think it’s a fluke, but then it happens again the next night and the night after that. After only three days with Kirill, I’m fully decided on what I want, and it’s him. He hasn’t taken care of Ivan yet, and I know it’s eating at him, but he seems reluctant to leave me to go do it. He’s also been avoiding my attempts at taking things further. Whenever I try, he buries his head between my legs, not letting up until I can barely utter my own name, let alone beg for his cock.

I woke up this morning and decided I’ve had enough. He’s already downstairs making breakfast, so I take a shower and then slip on some of the lingerie that arrived yesterday. He’d ordered me way more than I thought, and when I’d offered to try some on, he’d told me not yet. I don’t think he trusts himself. I smile and grab a pink, lacy thong with an attached garter belt and a pair of nude thigh highs. Unable to resist being a bit of an ass, I ignore the no-bra rule and put on the matching bra. It takes me a second to figure it all out, but once I’ve got the thigh highs hooked to the ribbon straps of the garter belt, I grab the dress that Kirill told me he loved in his letters. Sliding the sundress on, I look in the mirror, hoping like hell this works. The dress in itself is simple but cute with a square neckline and slender straps along my shoulders and a pink floral print that covers all of it.

After I’ve brushed my hair and put on a little bit of makeup, I take a deep breath and head down the stairs. His back is to me when I walk into the kitchen, and the sight of his broad shoulders has me more nervous than I’ve ever been in my life. I’m about to chicken out and bolt back up the stairs when he turns and sees me. The look on his face makes it impossible to move. His chiseled jaw is clenched tightly as he sets our plates on the counter and curls a finger at me, beckoning me closer. Every step has my bravery dwindling until I’m nearly shaking with nerves by the time I’m standing in front of him. He towers over me, and when I tilt my head to meet his eyes, the hunger in them has me taking a step back.

“Not so fast, little bunny,” he says, grabbing onto my hip and digging his fingers in hard enough to ensure I can’t leave. “You’re wearing my favorite dress.” He slides his other hand up my bare arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps on my skin. His fingers drag along my shoulder before hooking under the top of my dress and pulling it down enough to reveal a tiny bit of the pink, lacy bra. He makes a tsk-tsk noise and shakes his head slowly. “You’re breaking rule number one, baby.”

“You bought it for me,” I whisper.

“I did, but I said you aren’t allowed to wear them when we’re home alone.”

Grabbing the bottom of my dress, he lifts it up and takes a step back, letting out a slow breath when he sees what I’m wearing underneath. When his eyes meet mine, his pupils are blown and the vein in his neck is throbbing. I’m expecting a lot of things to happen, but I’m not prepared for what he says next.

“Time to eat breakfast, sweetheart.”

He drops my dress and grabs our plates, motioning for me to follow him to the dining room table. I’m starting to second-guess the hunger I saw in his eyes. I feel like an idiot, an overdressed moron. I thought he’d take one look at me and carry me back to bed, finally giving me what I’ve been begging for, but instead he just wants to eat.

“Do you not want to have sex with me?” I ask, feeling my face turn a deep shade of red. He sets our plates down and laughs as he turns around to face me. Grabbing my wrist, he pulls me closer and presses my hand against his fully hard cock.

“Does it feel like I don’t want to fuck you, zaika.”

He presses me harder against him, and when I grip him as best I can, he lets out a low groan.

“Then why aren’t you?” I whisper.

He smiles and gives me a wink. “You’re not quite there yet. Plus, you need to eat.”

Without waiting for my response, he scoots a chair out and sits down, but when I go to do the same, he grabs my waist and pulls me onto his lap. His eyes run over me as he traces his fingers along one of my thighs.

“You look amazing, baby. I thought about you in this dress so many times, but no fantasy could compare to this.”

The hard length of him presses against my ass, but he makes no move to do anything about it. He just slowly strokes my thigh for a few more seconds and then calmly cuts off a piece of the blueberry pancake, spearing the piece on the end his fork and bringing it to my mouth.

“You made me pancakes?” I ask.

He smiles. “They’re whole wheat with organic blueberries.”

“Of course they are,” I say, making him give a soft laugh.

“And it’s organic maple syrup.” He presses the fork gently against my lips. “Open, zaika.”

The corner of his mouth lifts up in a small smile when I open my mouth and obey him. I let out an appreciative moan when the sugary syrup hits my tongue. He feeds me while his other hand never stops touching me, squeezing my hip, lightly stroking my arm and the nape of my neck, until every part of me is strung so tight I’m starting to shake. Only when the plate is empty does he push it away and reach for his own. Before he takes a bite, he brings his hands to the straps of my dress. Hooking his fingers under the thin straps, he keeps his stormy grey eyes on mine and slowly peels them down, pulling until the dress comes down below my breasts. Brushing the backs of his fingers over one lace-covered nipple, he gives me a heated look before reaching behind me. He unclasps the bra and slowly takes it off me, dropping it on the table without a second thought.

“Much better,” he murmurs, running his eyes over me.

Satisfied, he picks his fork back up and starts to eat his breakfast. His fingers trace circles along my back as he eats, and it’s the most exquisite torture I’ve ever experienced. He takes his time, running his eyes over me as he slowly chews and drinks his coffee. When I can’t hold out any longer and I start to squirm against the hard cock beneath me, a smile tugs at his lips and he finally pushes his plate aside.

“Stand,” he says, and that one word has me hopping to my feet. Part of me feels like one of his well-trained dogs, but a bigger part of me is too horny to give a fuck. He scoots his chair back a bit more and says, “Bend over the table and lift your dress up.”

I hesitate, and he raises a dark brow, waiting to see what I’ll do. Turning around, I bend my body over the hardwood table and reach back to grip the bottom of my dress. Taking a deep breath, I flip the fabric up, exposing my ass to him. I feel completely on display and kind of wishing I hadn’t chosen the garter belt with the built-in thong.

He lets out a deep groan and drags his fingers over my bare ass cheeks. “You are mouthwatering, little bunny.”

“Are you going to fuck me now?” I ask.

His fingers slide down the backs of my thighs, caressing the ribbons connecting my thigh highs to the garter belt before dipping between my legs. That one stroke of his finger along my slit is enough to make me moan his name and rock my hips back.

“You’re soaking wet, sweetheart. Such a dirty girl.” He presses harder, giving my clit a firm rub. “So hungry for my cock.”

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