He'd abused me with cruel knowledge and captivity as much as seduction. My psyche let me know that night how messed up I really was. I still wanted him in all his awful glory.
My virgin * burned, clenched, and ached in my sleep. I rolled over, wrapping my wrists around the sheets, imagining how good it would feel to shove my fingernails through his hair. He'd made me come so hard with just his hands.
Jesus, what would his mouth or that huge ridge I'd felt between his legs do?
Would his tattoos come alive and dance on his skin when he held me down, pushed inside me, and fucked me until I shook and whimpered? Would I lose myself in the dark ink or his Neptune blue eyes first?
One way or another, I knew he wouldn't hold out forever. He would take me, whether I was ready for it or not, whether I wanted it or not – and, of course, I did. I could only choose how I was going to come up for air after he held me down, filled me, drowned me in his scent and strength and sex.
A rap on the door woke me up late morning. I yanked down my nightgown, shamed awake by the sopping wet heat between my legs.
I threw my legs over the bed and waited, sliding my cold feet into the burgundy slippers they'd given me. Another bang.
“Coming! Just hold on.”
I had exactly twenty seconds to collect all my wits. When I flung open the door and saw him, I was ready to demand answers. I'd give it to him point blank, tell him I wasn't just going to be his wind up toy, marching in whatever direction he sent me.
“Anton, I –“
I threw open the door and stopped. The thick, blue eyed devil named Lev was standing there, a smile spreading across his lips. Before I could think about stopping him, he pushed his way in and shoved a small black box into my hands.
“Gift from Anton. My brother's very busy today, and he won't be by personally.” He stopped, one hand on the wall. His sleeve rose just enough to see he had black stripes of his own going up one arm.
“I see you've settled in much more nicely today” His eyes moved up and down my body, making my skin crawl. “Hm. Perhaps I regret thinking about putting you down after all. Has he fucked you yet, or is there still room for an Ivankov to lay first claim?”
He started coming towards me. I dropped the box, ready to lunge, scratch at his eyes. He was almost as big and strong as Anton, and my odds against him weren't any better. But he caused me to feel repulsed in a way Anton didn't.
When he was just a couple inches away, I threw my hand out and raked his face. He fell back, stunned. He exhaled painfully through clenched teeth, and I saw the neat red rows I'd left on one cheek, quickly covered by his searching fingers.
“Bitch! I should throw you down and fuck your little ass for that.” I didn't move. My knees were like steel, running on fear and hate.
“Go ahead and try,” I spat.
He stood up, circling me at a distance, the same mischievous sparkle in his baby blues that I recognized in Anton. “You're a fighter. I like that. I respect it. You would've gotten off easy with me. I'm the more tender one, or so the ladies say. My brother's going to fuck you sooner or later, you know.”
“Yeah? Not you?” It felt good to taunt him, dangerous as it was.
He growled, shook his head, and widened the distance between us. It looked like he couldn't decide whether to make good on his crude threat or get the hell away from me. I swallowed hard, praying he'd finally leave me alone.
“I like rough and hard to get like any red blooded man. But I'm not about to ruin Anton's little prize before he gets a crack at it. We're brothers, after all. What's his is his. I was just having my fun.”
I stuck my tongue out. So risky to keep pressing him, but he was backing off. I couldn't resist. I'd officially had it up to here with these intrusions, all the sadistic extras that came with being Anton Ivankov's hostage.
“Stay here like a naughty devotchka then. Anton always liked them beautiful and completely at his mercy.” I watched him fish a silky red handkerchief out of his pocket and press it to the scratch I'd left on his cheek, soaking up the blood. “You're very lucky he's got big plans for you, babe. If it was up to me and Daniel, you'd be dead. We can't see the sense in sparing any Ligiotti.”
He pointed at the box and turned. Then he threw the door open and slammed it behind him, leaving me to collapse, grabbing my knees, listening to the lock click shut behind him.
When I'd caught my breath, I crawled to the black box. It opened easily enough. There was something rectangular and electronic inside, a brand new tablet. Except it wasn't packaged like anything I'd ever seen before.
I dragged it out of its container and found a little note taped to the back. The big, sharp script could only belong to Anton, a penmanship as imposing as the rest of him.