down the backs of my thighs. “What do you think of me?”
I don’t answer. I can’t answer. I won’t answer. It’s a trap.
His eyes drink me in, consuming me wholly and completely. “You think I’m a bad man, don’t you? You think I am a monster?”
The fact that he can read my mind so easily is as disturbing as anything else he’s done yet. His eyes flicker back and forth hungrily between my own gaze and my lips. His tongue flashes out and presses against his front tooth.
“That’s exactly what you think, isn’t it? It’s okay; you can nod.”
Like a marionette being controlled by a giant invisible hand, I nod dumbly. My mouth doesn’t seem like it’s working. Matvei’s breath is hot against the skin of my face. It smells like mint and whiskey.
And then, to my greatest horror yet, I feel his other hand find my side. I feel powerless to resist as his deft fingertips nudge aside the hem of my t-shirt to graze against my bare midriff.
My words aren’t coming, his hands aren’t stopping, although every voice in my head is shrieking at me to slap him in the face, knee him in the balls, run for the hills, change my name, dye my hair—do anything and everything it takes to get away from this man’s touch.
He’s dangerous. He’s bad. He’ll hurt you. An endless chorus chiming in my head.
But my body is humming with electricity.
He leans forward a little bit more and brushes his lips against the lobe of my ear. “I’ll tell you this, Victoria…” he rasps.
One of his fingers finds the edge of my jeans and starts to slide past, towards a center that is suddenly burning with the most painful, throbbing need I have ever felt since the day that an eleven-year-old me first saw a shirtless Brad Pitt on the front cover of Cosmo magazine.
He keeps murmuring as his hand slides lower and lower. Past my jeans, past the edge of my panties. The chorus in my head hasn’t stopped—if anything, it’s gotten louder—but neither have I moved to stop him.
I’m realizing one thing with growing horror: I want this.
“I’m everything you think I am, and worse. I do bad things and I enjoy them. I hurt people. I steal, I rob, I kill. I’m behind every shadow in every corner of this godforsaken city. You couldn’t run from me if your life depended on it.”
Then his hand finds my lower lips, spread them apart, and slips into me. I’m soaking wet.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Run, you horny idiot! Get the hell out of here!
I shift my weight and spread my legs to let him delve deeper. An involuntary moan passes my lips.
Matvei laughs in my ear. “But that doesn’t seem to be scaring you enough, does it, princess? You are so wet and ready for my touch. Surely, if you were truly frightened, you would not be so open to this.”
“I—I—I…” I’m like a broken record, stuttering nonsense as more soft moans trickle out with every caress of my sex. His thumb finds my clit and sends jittering lightning bolts racing through me.
“You should have left while you had the chance, Victoria. Because I own you now, for as long as it takes to be repaid what I am owed. You are mine. Mine. Mine.”
As he repeats the word, I can feel my orgasm rising. It peaks higher and higher, like pressure building below the surface of a volcano.
When he says it a third time, I erupt.
My hand finds his shoulder and seizes like a claw to ride out the waves coursing through me. When I am done coming on Matvei’s hand like the world’s cheapest date, all my senses come rushing back in.
The sting of embarrassment spreads across my cheeks, and I rip his hand out of my jeans. I turn around and press my forehead against the wall to take a deep, shuddering breath.
Behind me, I can hear him chuckling.
“I hate you,” I hiss over my shoulder. I can’t bear to look at him. I don’t want my face to betray any of the things boiling over inside me.
He doesn’t seem to care or even notice what I’ve said. I stay facing the wall as he says, “I don’t repeat myself often, Victoria. You are going to do what I say, for as long as you are here. So do us both a favor and listen the first time I tell you something.”