The Darkness Within

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

After dinner, after Sergei's walked me to my room and bid me goodnight, I say, "Wait."

He's already several steps from the door, but at my word, he stops and slowly turns towards me. His eyes flick over my face, and whatever he sees there makes his, in turn, flare with molten lust.

That's certainly to my benefit. The more aroused he is, the less I'll have to do to seduce him. Hopefully, as soon as my dress is off and he sees the provocative lingerie I wear, he'll get right to it, sparing me the effort of making the first real move.

"Yes?" He drawls, adjusting one of his cufflinks nonchalantly.

What's a sexy thing to say? How do people normally invite each other to fuck? Russians are known for being straightforward, but I don't know what the limit for bluntness is. Saying want to fuck? Is probably breaching it.

What's better than words? Actions.

With three determined strides I close the distance between us, and pull him down into a kiss by his tie. For a moment he's still—stunned, probably—and then he turns feral. One of his hand's fists in my hair, the other grabs my ass to plaster me against him.

All the weeks of built-up tension and stamina within Sergei practically detonates with just the kiss. Quite frankly, how starved he seems to be for me is off-putting. Almost frightening. His tongue explores the entirety of my mouth with startling vigor and hunger as he backs me into the hallway wall, mere feet from my bedroom door.

The kiss is completely beyond my control, leaving me with little option but to clutch Sergei's shoulders and hold on for the ride. I stiffen when one of his hands wrap around my neck, unsure of what his intention is. He hasn't hurt me outside of the incident when I recklessly tried to stab him, but I'm near positive that he's a sadist in the bedroom, which might not bode well for me.

"I'm not going to choke you," he says against my lips, before kissing a path across my jawline. "Not unless you want me to. But I can't resist measuring your lovely, erratic heartbeat." He begins stroking his thumb over the flutter of the pulse pounding away wildly beneath my skin.

He cups my cheek with his free hand, angling me to stare into his sharp, searching eyes. I feel dazed from the kiss, as if I just ingested a miraculous drug that leaves me languid, boneless, and drenches my panties beyond recognition. If that's the effect of a mere kiss, I can't wait for whatever's next.

"Why?" he asks me, his eyes flicking over my face.

I blink slowly. "Pardon?" Have I misread his interest? I can't imagine his reason for asking why after a kiss that literally blew my mind.

"I want to know why you're offering yourself to me," he explains, his tone both patient and brimming with desire. So I'm not misreading him. He's just perceptive enough to question my motives.

I debate what to tell him. If I'm honest, and say I'm looking for both control and a way to sate my curiosity, I'm not sure how he'll take it. I doubt he would appreciate my effort to undermine his total control over me. If I'm dishonest, however, chances are he'll see right through me. I suspect that Sergei, like me, long ago learned how to identify a lie even before it comes.

I settle on saying, "Does it matter?"

He stares at me for a beat in total silence, before slowly shaking his head. "No, it doesn't. I really couldn't give less of a fuck why. All I care is that you're mine."

He swoops down to take my mouth in another searing kiss, this one so passionate that I lose focus of my surroundings. All I can think about are his satin lips, velvet tongue, and skilled hands roaming my body, stopping to measure my pulse every so often.