His cock swelled against her bottom and her pretty hazel eyes went wide. “Well, hello there.”
She made him want to laugh, something he rarely did. “Hello, zaika moya.”
“What does that mean?”
“My rabbit.”
Her giggle lightened his heart. “Your rabbit?”
“Yes. You said I am a wolf hunting you and I agree. You are little, soft, and cute. I want to touch you, pet you. I want to eat my rabbit.”
Her lips parted and she shifted against him, the tempting softness of her body urging him to squeeze. “Then you’re my wolf? How do you say that in Russian?”
“In Russian wolf is volk, and my is moy or moya. So it would be volk moy.”
“Volk moy,” she said in her soft American accent and looked up at him with a small smile. “I like that. You remind me of a wolf. A predator.”
He didn’t like to think that she feared him, even though he was indeed a predator. “But for you I do not bite, yes?”
She wiggled her lush ass against him again. “Actually, I kind of like biting.”
It took a great deal of effort to not lean over right now and sink his teeth into the plump cleavage awaiting his touch. He allowed himself to slip into his dominant space, to look at Rya not only as a woman, but as a submissive, his submissive. The need to know what she liked, what she needed, filled him. He wanted to leave such an impression on her so that when she was old and gray, she would think of their time together and her heart would beat like a young girl’s. The fragility of being human struck him, and he wanted to take her someplace safe, to keep her in a gilded cage so that nothing could ever harm her, but that would not work. His Rya was indeed like a wild rabbit and she would eventually find a way out and run free. And she might be much harder to capture a second time.
Stroking his finger over her cheek, loving the soft feel of her skin, he looked into her eyes and asked, “What do you need to make you climax? What kind of spice do you like in your BDSM play?”
Even in the dim twilight he could see her pupils dilate. “Everything.”
He blinked in surprise. “Everything?”
“Sorry, let me collect my thoughts.” She looked away and a hint of a blush colored her cheeks. “You’re very distracting. I don’t like burning, or cutting, or anything that would leave scars. And I absolutely cannot stand any form of breath play.”
Her whole body tensed and he studied her, sensing something behind those words. When a slight tremble went through her his anger sparked in the visceral reaction. She was thinking about something that scared her, maybe even terrified her. Keeping his voice low and soothing he said, “Did something happen to you Rya?”
She muttered a few words he couldn’t make out and he grasped her chin, making her look at him. The thought of anyone harming her, even someone from her past, made him want to break bones. “Tell me who hurt you, and I will make them pay.”
It startled him when she laughed and gently stroked his hand still cupping her chin. “You know, you’re lucky I was raised around men who considered it perfectly acceptable to break the legs of any guy who hurt my feelings.”
“Tell me, Rya.”
“Fine, while it’s not a nice story, it’s also not what you think.”
He waited patiently, moving his hand from her chin and stroking her hair back from her face with a gentle touch. It surprised him to see how his hands, the same hands used to kill and do evil, could move so slowly and gently. Oh, he’d pleasured many, many women with his hands, but he’d never allowed himself the bliss of comforting a woman like this. He became fascinated by the warmth filling him, the tender feelings that he did not immediately try to reject. He had two days with Rya to pretend that he was a normal man and he was determined to enjoy every moment of the life he’d been denied before he had to return to his bleak existence.
She visibly gathered her courage then said in a tight voice, “The winter when I was twelve, right around Christmas, I was staying at my grandparent’s farm in upstate New York. They had a big pond behind their house that my grandfather would smooth out so my cousins and I could go ice skating on it. I loved doing that, loved the feeling of flying through the air on my skates. That year it had been an especially warm winter and we weren’t allowed to go out on the ice. I was out walking with one of their farm dogs, they always had at least three, when I spied the pond. Everyone else was inside helping grandma make cookies, or watching football, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to just play a little.”
Dimitri could imagine what happened next, but he quietly waited for her to continue.