Her face is bright pink as she lies down on the couch, obeying Goldberg’s instructions. As the doctor pulls up her shirt and takes out a speculum, I force myself to stand still instead of ripping into the man for touching her. Goldberg is gay, but seeing his hands on her still awakens something savage in me—something that makes me want to murder any man who touches what’s mine.
The exam takes less than a minute. I watch Yulia carefully to make sure she doesn’t lash out at the doctor, but she lies still, her knees bent and her eyes trained on the ceiling. Only her hands betray her agitation; they’re clenched into white-knuckled fists at her sides.
When Goldberg is done, he carefully pulls down Yulia’s shirt and steps away. “All done,” he says, addressing us both. “Everything seems fine. The IUD is in place, so you have nothing to worry about.”
IUD? I frown at the doctor, but he’s already explaining, “An intrauterine contraceptive device. Birth control.”
“I see.” I give Yulia a speculative glance. If she’s protected and the doctor determines she’s clean, I could fuck her without a rubber.
My cock twitches with instant arousal.
She sits up on the couch, staring straight ahead, and I see that her cheeks are still flaming with color. I want to embrace her and assure her that everything’s okay, that I didn’t do this to humiliate her, but now is not the time.
As far as the doctor knows, she’s a prisoner I despise, and I have to treat her as such.
* * *
After thanking Goldberg, I usher him out and return to the living room, where Yulia is still sitting on the couch. Her face is back to its normal porcelain shade, but her eyes are glittering brightly. She’s upset—I can feel it, even though her expression is outwardly calm.
“Yulia.” As I approach, she looks away, her hair rippling down her back in a golden cloud. “Yulia, come here.”
She doesn’t respond, even when I reach for her and pull her up, forcing her to stand and face me. She also doesn’t look at me, her eyes focused on something just beyond my right ear.
Aggravated, I grip her jaw, turning her face so she has no choice but to meet my gaze. “I needed to make sure you’re okay,” I say harshly. It still bothers me on some level that I feel this way about her, that I want to heal her and keep her safe instead of hurting her. It’s a weakness, this obsession of mine, and I can’t help the anger that seeps into my tone as I say, “You could’ve had internal injuries.”
Her eyes narrow. “Bullshit. You just wanted to make sure you don’t have to wear a condom.”
Her accusation is so close to my earlier thought that I wonder for a second if I said it out loud.
Something must’ve shown on my face because Yulia lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah, exactly.”
“That’s not why—” I cut myself off. I don’t owe her any explanations. If I want to have her examined so I can fuck her without a rubber, that’s my prerogative. I may no longer plan to torture her, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what she’s done. By her own actions, she’s placed herself in this situation, and now she’s mine.
I own her, for better or for worse.
“I’m clean,” I say instead. A better man would undoubtedly leave her alone after what she told me, but I’m not that man. I want her too much to deny myself. “I had all my blood work done after the crash, and I’m completely safe.”
Her jaw clenches. “Congratulations.”
The sarcasm that drips from her voice sets my teeth on edge and arouses me at the same time. Everything about the girl is a contradiction designed to drive me mad. Compliant yet defiant, fragile yet strong. One minute I want to break her, make her acknowledge that she needs me, and the next I want to wrap her in a cocoon and make sure nothing bad can ever touch her again.
The only thing I don’t want to do is let her go.
“Lucas.” She sounds anxious as I draw her toward me. “Wait, I—”
I cut her off by slanting my mouth across hers. Cupping the back of her head with one hand, I wrap my other arm around her waist, drawing her flush against me. My balls tighten as my stiff cock pushes against her flat stomach, my ever-present lust for her flaring uncontrollably. I sweep my tongue across her lips, feeling their plush softness, and then I push into her mouth, invading the deliciously warm depths. She moans in response, her hands clutching at my sides, and I drink in the small sound, feeling her slender body softening and melting against mine.
Fucking hell, I want her. Every inch of her, from head to toe. It’s wrong, it’s fucked up, it’s inconvenient, but I can’t stop myself. The hunger burns inside me, overpowering whatever scruples I still possess. I know I’m a bastard for coercing her after what she’s been through, but I can’t stay away. Maybe if she didn’t want me, it would be different, but she does. Even through two layers of clothing, I can feel her hard nipples pressing against my chest, can taste the sweetness of her response as her tongue coils eagerly around mine. She’s not pushing me away—if anything, she’s trying to get closer—and the mindless craving overtakes me, the savage in me taking control.
I don’t know how we end up on the couch, but I find myself propped up on one elbow on top of her, her T-shirt bunched around her waist as I slide my free hand down her body to cup her sex. She’s already wet, her folds slick and hot as I push two fingers into her, stretching her for my cock. At the same time, I grind the heel of my palm against her folds, putting pressure on her clit. Her inner walls spasm around my fingers as she moans my name, her neck arching and her nails raking down my back, and I know I can’t wait any longer.
Pulling my fingers out, I unzip my pants to free my aching erection, and push into her wet heat.
It’s like entering heaven. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a warning bell rings, reminding me about a condom, but I’m too far gone to withdraw. The clasp of her body is sheer perfection, so silky and tight that I can’t stop myself from plunging in all the way, as deep as I can go. She cries out, arching underneath me, and I lower my head to kiss her, capturing the sound as I take in her taste and scent, reveling in the sensory pleasure of possessing her, of taking her for my own.
Mine, she’s mine. The satisfaction the thought gives me is deep and primal, having nothing to do with logic and reason. I’ve fucked dozens of women without ever wanting to claim them, but that’s precisely what I want to do with her. Fucking Yulia is about more than just sex.
It’s about tying her to me, binding her so tightly she’ll never be able to leave.
Lifting my head, I stare down at her, my cock throbbing deep inside her body. Her eyes are closed, her parted lips are swollen from my kisses, and her skin is glowing with warm color.
She’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, and she’s mine.
“Yulia.”
She opens her eyes, and I realize I spoke her name out loud. Her gaze is unfocused, her pupils dilated as she stares up at me. She looks dazed, overcome by the same need that’s incinerating my insides, and the sight tempers my savage lust, filling me with a peculiar tenderness.
Lowering my head, I take her mouth again, swallowing her needy moan as I begin to thrust in and out, moving slowly so I can feel every inch of her tight warmth. I’ve never had sex bareback before, and the sensations are incredible. Her pussy is soft and silky, a slick, delicate sheath that appears to have been made just for me. Her inner walls clasp me, embracing me with creamy moisture as I slide in and out, and I focus on the soft clues of her breathing to gauge her response.
The primitive, possessive hunger that gripped me earlier is still there, but now it’s reined in by the need to please her, to make her feel at least a fraction of the ecstasy she gives me. Continuing to thrust in a slow, steady rhythm, I move my mouth from her lips to her neck and nibble on the tender skin there. At the same time, I slide my hand under her shirt and gently squeeze her breast.
“Lucas. Oh God, Lucas…” My name is a breathless plea on her lips as I scrape my teeth over her neck and catch her nipple between my fingers, twisting it lightly. She’s writhing with need now, her slim legs wrapping around my hips to draw me in deeper as her hands clutch at my sides. I can feel her quivering, her body wound as tightly as a spring, and I pick up my thrusting pace, sensing that she’s close.
When her orgasm hits, it’s like a quake that reverberates through my body. She tenses, arching beneath me with a cry, and her inner muscles ripple around my cock, the squeezing pressure so strong that it hurls me over the edge. My balls tighten, and then the orgasm sweeps through me, the pleasure dark and intense, shattering in its raw power.
Groaning, I thrust deeper into her and hold her tightly as my cum bursts out into her hot, spasming depths.
9
Yulia
Breathing hard, I lie under Lucas, my heart pounding in the aftermath of the devastation that is sex with my captor.
Why is it always like this with him, with this difficult, dangerous man who hates me? I’m far from inexperienced. It’s true that I’ve survived sex at its ugliest, but I’ve also known its more pleasant variations. My second assignment—Vladimir Vashkov, a trim forty-something FSB liaison—prided himself on being a good lover, and he introduced me to real orgasms, teaching me about arousal and pleasure. I thought I was able to handle anything a man could throw at me in bed, but clearly I was wrong.