Page 92 of Merciless Desires

"Please," she moans again, arching into me helplessly. "I need..."

With a ragged groan I begin to move, slowly at first but quickly losing any semblance of restraint. Her nails rake down my back, urging me on as our bodies strain together. My thrusts come harder, faster, her broken cries urging me towards ecstasy.

She meets my every movement with equal abandon, shattering me. We climb higher, clawing and clutching each other desperately until finally the coil of bliss inside me erupts with blinding force.

When I distantly feel her body spasm and clench around mine, I bury my release deep inside her with a gritted shout. For endless moments we remain suspended together in sublime oblivion.

Slowly I come back to earth, my arms supporting my weight above her. With utmost care I ease onto my side, slipping from her body but pulling her tightly against me. She clings to me, face pressed into my chest as our breathing slows.

I stroke her hair, her back, overwhelmed by what just occurred. My analytical mind wants to chalk it up to drunken weakness, but my heart knows this was inevitable. Fighting my feelings for her was always a losing battle. I press a kiss to her forehead and hug her even closer, wanting to meld us into one unbreakable whole.

She lifts her face to meet my gaze, cheeks flushed. But despite our passionate intimacy, there's uncertainty in her gaze.

My chest clenches.

"Natalia," I murmur, giving voice to my troubled thoughts. "You are a grave threat to me, I think."

Her lips part on a tremulous breath. Slowly, wonderingly, she lays a hand along my jaw.

When I look at her, she is regarding me curiously. I brush a finger down her cheek. "I believe you may have bewitched me, golubushka."

A small, satisfied smile tugs at her lips, and I find myself smiling back.

I will keep her safe and face whatever consequences come.

CHAPTER 9

Natalia

My guard, Timur, falls into step behind me as I make my way out a set of French doors to the patio. Stone paths cut through neatly manicured gardens bursting with vibrant flowers. Graceful willow trees and trickling fountains complete the idyllic scene. Hard to believe this beauty exists on the grounds of a ruthless Bratva enforcer.

It's been four days since I've seen Viktor. Four days, and as much as I loathe to admit it, I miss him. I miss the searing heat of his gaze, the possessive grip of his hands, the way he feels moving inside me.

I scowl. Falling for my captor? Definitely a sign of Stockholm Syndrome. But the heart wants what it wants, traitorous thing.

I meander slowly, inhaling the sweet floral scents, trailing my fingers over the velvety petals. Timur keeps his distance, allowing me the illusion of solitude even as his watchful presence reminds me I'm never truly alone here.

Eventually, my wandering leads me to an arched wooden arbor tucked into a far corner of the gardens. Honeysuckle vines twist over the structure, the pendulous blooms filling the small enclosure with fragrance. This is my favorite place, and I duck inside and settle on a stone bench, hidden from view. Timur remains hovering just outside, granting me privacy while still keeping guard.

Surrounded by sun-warmed blossoms, I close my eyes and tip my face up, soaking in the tranquility. My mind drifts back to that night with Viktor, our last time together. The tenderness in his touch, the emotion shimmering in those dark eyes…what was that?

We connected on a deep level that night. It scares me.

I've never felt such an intimate bond before. Viktor tore down my walls, leaving me exposed and vulnerable and I should hate him for it. So why does it make me ache for his return?

How starved am I for affection? But the real question is: Is he as starved for connection as I am?

I must be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome if some part of me wants to stay in this pretty cage with my captor.

No, I can't afford to sympathize with him. He's a monster who kidnapped me, hurt me, keeps me imprisoned here away from my normal life. Well, to be fair, I don’t think he’s really a monster. And I don't hate this gorgeous home or these gorgeous grounds. They’re far more pleasant than the rundown trailer I call home. And I’ll never be able to afford the kind of clothes he’s bought me working as a waitress. Most of the clothes in my closet at home are from the second-hand thrift store. I also can’t deny the sex with Viktor is amazing, whether it’s dominating and rough or tender and caring.

But isn't a gilded cage still a cage?

I turn my face skyward. How is it I find myself looking forward to Viktor’s strong embrace, his kisses, even his punishments? I think about the hard lines of his body and the way he groans when he finds his release. Heat coils low in my belly at the memories.

I am falling for Viktor despite everything, and the realization leaves me reeling. He electrifies me, challenges and excites me in ways I've never known.

But what future can there be for us while I'm a captive, a prisoner?

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