Page 26 of Captured Obsession

As I go to leave, Sergey steps in front of me. He’s not as big as Andrei, but he has a cruel twist to his harsh features. Andrei, although intimidating in size, never looks at me in a threatening manner, even though I know he was the one who helped take methat night. Much like Nikolai, he’s been quiet but surprisingly kind. Despite knowing better, I pin Sergey with a lethal glare. I hate these men. All of them.

“Stand aside,” I grit out. If they think I’m a spoiled fucking princess, I’ll act like one.

He arches a brow and goes to grab my arm, but Nikolai’s voice booms over my shoulder. “You do not touch her.”A chill runs down my spine from the loaded threat that sounds more like it came from an animal than a man. Sergey immediately pulls his hand back. “Leave. I’ll handle this.”

Goose bumps pebble my skin, and my heart thunders in my chest. I’m frozen in place, tempted to follow Sergey, wondering if I stand a better chance with him than a seriously pissed-off Nikolai.

Slowly, I turn to face Nikolai, who is undoing the buttons at the cuff of his sleeve. The black shirt fits him like a second skin, hugging every muscle, and I salivate at the memories of how hard and rigid that body feels.

The door in the main room closes, leaving us alone.

“You seem to enjoy being punished,mishka.”

“Stop calling me that,” I scold.

He smirks, the way I imagine the devil would. Then he folds up the cuffs of his sleeves to his elbows, revealing the tattoos on his forearms. My breath hitches in suspense at his calm demeanor.

He dips his hand into the champagne bucket and pulls out a piece of ice. Then he slowly prowls towardme. I take a step back, then a few more until my back hits the impressive bookshelves. I hit it so hard that a book falls, but he's already so much in my space that he catches it with ease.

“You need not act like such a brat for my attention,mishka.”

“I don't want shit from you. I just want to go home.”

“Ah. On the contrary, I think you want a repeat of what happened yesterday.” He lets the book slip out of his hand, and the thump as it lands on the floor surges my heartbeat. The ice cube is melting between his fingers, and my gaze bounces between it and him until his other hand reaches up to brush a lock of my hair over my shoulder.

I slap his hand away, and it only seems to encourage him, as a feral smile creeps onto his lips.

“I'm going to shove this ice cube up your cunt,mishka, and you will not let it slip out until I permit you to do so. Do you understand me?”

My mind goes completely blank. My attention drops once again to the ice cube in his hand.He wants to do what to me?When my eyes snap back to his, my breath falters before I can tell him to fuck off. The words are on my tongue. But when I see the way his striking green eyes are drinking me in, I can't help but fall victim to the same spell that I found myself under yesterday.

What happened yesterday was a mistake. But my body burns to be touched by him again. My heartslams into my ribs, sending jolts of adrenaline through my bloodstream. My pussy is still bruised and swollen from the demanding encounter.

The moment Nikolai drops to his knees in front of me, my breath hitches. There’s something about a powerful man kneeling at a woman’s feet that is undeniably sexy. I know I should shove him away. Hell, if I had an ounce of sanity left in me, I would. But as he slips the ice cube into his mouth, rolling it over his tongue, I become mesmerized. The ice begins to melt over his lips as he looks up at me with that fiery gaze.

His large, rough hands graze along my outer thighs, eliciting goose bumps as he runs them higher until they’re beneath my dress. He hooks his fingers into my panties and then pulls them down to my ankles.

My breath comes in rapid pants as he pushes my silk dress up over my hips, shamelessly dropping his gaze to my pussy. I see the spark of passion in his eyes just before he lowers his head, and the cold touch of the ice cube rubs over my clit.

I gasp, my hands immediately curling into the bookshelf behind me, as a pleasurable, icy burn begins to slide against my sensitive folds. And then with no warning, he pushes the ice cube into my pussy with his tongue. The oddly painful yet tingling pleasure it creates makes me immediately want to push it back out.

“You're not to remove this ice cube until I give you permission,mishka. Do you understand?” I swallowhard, giving him a small nod, which goes against my better judgment. But I feelalive.The corners of his mouth tilt up as he leans forward again, lapping up the juices from my pussy, forcing it to slowly become numb. He shamelessly eats me out, pushing the ice cube farther and farther inside me. When he retracts his tongue, I see the way the water melts down his face and smooth jaw.

He picks up the book that he dropped and then rises to stand in front of me. I gaze up at him through my lashes. It takes every ounce of my willpower to continue clenching on the ice cube. I seem to not be able to feel anymore because of its numbing effect.

“See how obedient you can be,mishka?” He lifts his hand to one of my curls, surprisingly gentle, and wraps the lock around his finger. “You can be a good girl after all. And when you are, you’ll be rewarded.”

I want to berate him. I want to slap him again. I hate that he thinks he has control or dominion over me. Surely, I'm going crazy, letting my kidnapper touch me like this. But if I'm being honest with myself, it's part of his allure.

Nikolai is unlike any other man I've been with. He oozes danger and power. He’s not part of the world I was raised in. And it offers me a lethal place to escape my thoughts with an insatiable amount of curiosity. He looks down at the book in his hand. Then, without a word, he brings the spine of the book against my pussy and begins rubbing it against my clit.

“What are you?—?”

“You don't question me,mishka. You ride the spine of this book like you rode my cock yesterday. I want to see you come undone. I want to see you melt all over this book without thought, without reservation—to just simply give yourself over to the pleasure and come undone.”

My breath comes out haggard, and I want to argue with him, until his hand comes over my mouth, and I moan, perplexed by the burning sensation in my pussy and the sparking friction of the book. But as his speed picks up, I find my own rhythm. I don't want to give this man what he wants or demands of me, but for some reason, he seems to understand my body better than I ever have.

Maybe it's the danger. Maybe it's because he's the furthest thing from the type of man I was told I should marry. And that thought alone spurs me on to ride the spine of the book like my life depends on it. If I'm not going to make it out alive, shouldn’t I at least try to have the best fucking orgasm of my life?