Page 73 of Bloody Savage God
I consider it for a moment, the idea of finally being able to let go of the tension and stress is more than a little appealing.Yeah,that is exactly what I need.
“Follow me.” With a smirk, I lead Mikhail towards the concealed entrance that leads to the basement stairs. There are probably few people who go from kidnapping and murder straight to fucking, but I suppose that just means Mikhail is the right kind of man for me.
He knows what I need right now.
My uncle didn’t deserve to live for another second, but that need for violence? It still hums through my veins, demanding release.
The air thickens with anticipation as we descend the dimly lit staircase, our footsteps echoing against the walls. The sight that greets us is a clandestine sanctuary of desire and pleasure. My place to retreat and indulge. Soft candlelight flickers from the electric sconces, casting dancing shadows across the room that is adorned with an assortment of restraints, whips, and other instruments of pleasure and pain. The scent of leather and a hint of musk hangs in the air, heightening the senses.
This is very different from the last time I took Mikhail down here, and eagerness drives me to take the last couple of steps a bit quicker.
Mikhail’s eyes glimmer with a mix of excitement and hunger as he takes in the room.
Silently, I approach the St. Andrew’s Cross and position myself in front of it. My gaze locked with Mikhail’s, I dare him to bare himself to me. Body and soul.
The energy crackles between us. As Mike, Mikhail refused to submit. It was a challenge that made things interesting, but now that he isn’t faking who he is, I don’t expect Mikhail to submit. I expect him to defy me.
This is better.
He’s a killer. An enforcer. He’ll never bend to my will, but he’ll take what I want to give, because he needs it the same way I crave to inflict it, and that’s so much more exhilarating.
Without a word, Mikhail steps forward, his fingers trailing along the exposed skin of my collar bones, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He slowly unbuttons my blouse, baring my body to the cool air of the dungeon. Goosebumps rise on my skin as he caresses my naked flesh, his touch igniting a primal hunger within me.
With a seductive smile playing on my lips, I take charge of the situation, pressing my lips over his and backing him up against the cross. The pain of our lips and teeth crashing against each other is intoxicating, and I indulge until the tension in my core demands something more.
Breaking the kiss, I lean back. “Since we’re getting married, it only seems fair that I get to see what you look like shackled. A kind of test run, don’t you think?”
Mikhail’s lips twitch up. “Is that the excuse you want to use? Seems sad to think you’re even trying to justify things. Shouldn’t the big bad queen of the Bruno syndicate just take what she wants?”
Scowling, I quickly secure Mikhail with the Velcro restraints, using my knife to cut open his shirt.
“For memory’s sake,” I say, grinning.
“If you plan on cutting open my leg again, why don’t you use the other one this time? I figure I can use a matching scar.”
That has laughter bubbling up inside of me, even as I’m admittedly tempted, but instead I reach for the clothespins I keep hanging on the back of the cross, my eyes never leaving his. He’ll regret his words, but I can’t help enjoying the fact that he’s trying to rile me up on purpose.
I tease him with a mischievous grin, relishing the way his pupils dilate in response. The man might not want to submit, but I can play his body all the same. He’s desperate for me, and that power is a rush all of its own.
With practiced ease, I attach the first clothespin to the sensitive flesh of his nipple, clamping it firmly. A sharp intake of breath escapes his lips, a mix of pleasure and a hint of defiance. “Like that?” I ask, not expecting an answer.
Knowing that he doesn’t want to even acknowledge the pain to me, is a fucked up kind of tease. He wants the pain, but not giving in to it is how he’s proving himself worthy. And it only fuels my desire further.
The long twine I’ve attached to the small hole I drilled into the end of each pin hangs between us, like a kinky symbol of our intertwining desires. I grab hold of the free end and slowly walk backward, watching as Mikhail’s body reacts to the tension. His muscles tighten, his breath quickens, and a subtle sheen of sweat that has nothing to do with the temperature down here glistens on his forehead.
He’s like a fucking god of the underworld. Built like a sex toy I get to take advantage of for as long as I want.
Or at least until my uncle’s body upstairs starts to attract flies and we need to move the fucker. But that’s besides the point right now.
I make my way all the way back to where the spanking bank stands, climbing up it to loop the twine through a pulley in the ceiling. When I pull my knife out of my boot and tie it to the end, Mikhail chuckles.
“You just can’t live without knife play, can you?”
I grin back at him, a contentment flooding through me that’s in no way the same as the usual ease of tension I feel when I get to play. This is more, and it’s time I do what my dear old corpse of an uncle would have expected of me. He thought I was a spoiled princess who got everything she ever wanted. Well, I want this man, and I’m going to keep him.
Mikhail’s eyes lock with mine. A challenge and an invitation. With a subtle nod, I give the knife a gentle tug, testing its hold. The clothespin tightens its grip on Mikhail’s nipple, eliciting a low growl from deep within his throat. The sound sends my pussy to weep it’s demands into my panties.
Mikhail’s eyes never waver from mine, his trust and defiance merging into an intoxicating blend. I jump off the spanking bench and attach the second cloth pin to his other nipple, this time using one of my stiletto’s as a weight. From his strained expression, I take it that the pain isn’t one for the faint of heart, but luckily my Russian lacks that particular organ, anyway.
