That’s the moment Dima must realize how I got a matching set of sexy underwear—Adrian had brought them yesterday with our other things.
“Adrian went through your drawers,” he chokes.
I look over my shoulder to check the level of rage on his face. My tummy flutters. I love seeing him mad—it’s when I get a glimpse of his level of passion for me. I hold his jealousy close to my chest as proof of what I mean to him.
His hand slaps down on my ass. “I’m going to kill him.”
I hide my smile.
“Come here, pretty girl.” He takes my waist with both hands and pulls me away from the wall, then walks me to the bed. “On your hands and knees.”
My pulse races as I crawl onto the mattress and assume the position.
Dima slaps my ass a few times. “You like me mad?”
I make a little sound—not really a whimper. More like a sex sound. The kind that means more.
“Hmm?” He delivers a few more spanks then strokes his hand over my right cheek. “If Adrian thought of you in these panties, I will smash his face in,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.
I smother a giggle, but Dima catches it. “You think that’s funny?” He delivers a flurry of slaps, warming the lower half of my ass. “No!” I squeal when it gets intense, and he immediately stops and rubs away the sting. “He said Nadia packed my things,” I admit. Nadia is Adrian’s sister.
“I don’t want to send you on a date with that cocksucker Alex,” he growls. “You think I would ask if I didn’t have to?”
I don’t want to think about Alex. I don’t want Dima bringing him up between us now, ruining the moment.
He gives my ass another hard slap. “You can’t refuse Ravil on this.”
I remain still, panting slightly, incredibly aroused.
He grips my hair and tugs my head back. “Natasha.” His voice is firm, demanding an answer.
“I’ll do it,” I say.
Dima relaxes his grip on my hair but keeps it wound around his fist.
“On one condition.” My heart pounds in my ears, at my wrists, in my temples.
He releases my hair completely and delivers three hard spanks. “You’re not making the conditions here, amerikanka.”
I look over my shoulder at him. “I think I am.” I no longer believe anything terrible will happen to me. Dima wouldn’t let it happen, and Ravil gave him responsibility for me. Which means I have the chips to bargain with.
Dima’s eyes narrow. “What is your condition?”
I’ve never felt so vulnerable, and it has nothing to do with the position I’m in. It’s what I’m about to ask. “Tell me why you can’t be with me. Because I know we both feel something.”
Dima sucks in a breath, then his jaw hardens. “No.” There’s no missing the note of stubbornness in his voice. “That story is not for you, Natasha. I’m not for you.”
I fight back the stab of rejection, the flush of shame that climbs up my throat. But no, he didn’t deny what’s between us. He just wants to hang onto his ghost. I still think we’re worth fighting for. “Then I’m not going out with Alex,” I tell him.
His face darkens. “You think you will win this battle with me?”
“Yes.”
Dima won’t hurt me. I’m sure of it. He has feelings for me, whether he’ll admit them or not.
He rips my panties down my legs and grabs my ankles, pulling me toward him until I slide to my belly. He disappears for a moment, stooping down, and when he rises, he has my bra, which he uses to tie my hands behind my back. I’m gushing arousal, so hot and ready for him. I’ve never been tied up before, but I now understand the appeal. The sense of being at his mercy amplifies everything—my desire, my need for him, the heat flooding my body.
He dips his fingers between my legs and strokes over my dewy petals. It feels so good to have his touch where I needed it so badly. I tip my pelvis back and moan.
“Even pleasure can be a torture, Natasha.” His voice is smoky velvet. He slides his fingers inside me at the same time his thumb traces down the cleft of my ass until it reaches my anus.
I moan and hump the bed. I’m already so wound up, and being bound and spread for him just makes the whole experience hotter.
“You think I won’t fuck this cute little ass?”
I undulate my hips to take his fingers deeper. I’m freaked out about anal, but not enough to not want it. I already know from what he did to me downstairs on the kitchen counter how incredible it feels. How much I liked anal play.
I’m feverish, rubbing my bare breasts over the bedcovers, arching and rolling to meet his fingers. He tortures me by removing his touch.