Dimitri escorted me across the ballroom, my hand in his, his hold soft but firm. After forcibly agreeing to Allistair’s ultimatum, Dimitri and I left the dining area hand in hand, and that one touch sent my heart absolutely racing.
All of the other couples who had already been selected were waiting on the dance floor, a small crowd of people beginning to form around it—people who couldn’t wait to watch what a giant clusterfuck it was going to be.
When we got to the dance floor, Dimitri swung me elegantly so that I was facing him, let go of my hand and took three steps back.
The song “Love Story” by Indila began to play lightly through the air.
He stood with absolute confidence. A man who knew exactly who he was and what to do. There was nothing sexier than a confident man dressed in a dark suit that was so perfectly molded to his body, I could see every outline of muscle he possessed.
But then, of course, he had to go and ruin it by opening up his big, dumb mouth.
“Do you even know how to dance?” he asked, one arm wrapped around his middle as he bowed at the waist. All around us, the other men did the same to their partners.
“The question isn’t whether or not I can dance,” I replied, lowering myself into a curtsy. I straightened and stared him dead in the eyes. “It’s whether or not you can lead.”
He raked his gaze over me from head to toe. One corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “Touche.”
We stepped towards each other and assumed the position, my hand lying gracefully on his muscular shoulder, his arm encircling me so his hand rested on my lower back and our free hands clasped together. His touch electrified me. My body hummed with awareness. He was so close. So, so, close. I could feel the heat of his skin despite the fact that the fabric of our clothes were in the way. It was like every single nerve inside me was on fire, burning for him to touch me. Touch me everywhere.
We stared into each other’s eyes. Something passed between us. I didn’t have a fucking clue what it was, but it was there, blazing as hot as the sun.
Will he ever acknowledge it?
Will I?
The music began to pick up, and it was as if I could sense exactly when Dimitri was going to move. He stepped forward, I stepped back and then we were off, spinning lightly around the dance floor. He moved us effortlessly through the other couples without missing a beat, like he was the master and we were all his students who should watch and follow his lead.
“This is ridiculous,” I hissed under my breath, not wanting to admit how much I was actually enjoying being so close to him. Feeling his hard, muscled body beneath my fingertips.
“It is,” he acknowledged. “Allistair is a man who enjoys doing ridiculous things.”
“You know him well.”
“Well enough.”
I’d forgotten how chatty he could be.
Not.
He twirled me without slowing down, and I found it unbearably easy to follow through, my arm gliding through the air. We moved together well. Too well. Almost like we were one person, each of us just an extension of the other.
The music was beautiful; soft and pleasant. It made the moment feel like we were in some sort of fairytale, our feet moving in tandem, our bodies inching closer and closer with each spin until we were pressed right up against one another.
His face was hard as stone, jaw clenched, body tight. I wondered if he was uncomfortable, but the way he held me… It felt like he didn’t want to let me go.
Or maybe that was just what I was hoping he was feeling.
The truth of it was, I had no idea.
“Why are you here?” I asked, trying desperately to ignore the tension rising between us.
“Why are you?” he threw back.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Then what I’m doing here is none of yours.”
“Fine.”
“Fine,” he parroted.
We sped up, spinning faster and faster as we made our way around the dance floor. It was like we were gliding, the movements almost effortless. Every now and then, he would twirl me and then reel me back into him, bringing me closer each time. Our faces were mere inches from each other, his lips only a hair’s breadth away from mine. It was a fucking tease, having them right there and not being able to do a damn thing about it.
“Why did you leave without saying goodbye?” he asked casually, and I almost stumbled from surprise, but he danced us right through it, his hold remaining tight and unwavering.
“I didn’t think you cared.”
“I don’t,” he bit out between gritted teeth.
“Then why are you asking?”
“Just think it was quite rude of you.” He pushed me away but kept holding my left hand with his right as our arms pulled taut. We took a few steps forward ,and then he spun me back into him quickly, almost as if he didn’t want to be that far away from me. “You didn’t think that after everything we went through, that I deserved a simple goodbye?”
Of course he did. But I knew my limits. I had an addictive personality, and Dimitri was the kind of man I could very easily become addicted to. If I wasn’t already. I already craved those rare smiles he would sometimes give. That deep, baritone laugh of his. The sound of his voice. I feared that if I didn’t get away from him when the opportunity first presented itself, I never would.
“I said goodbye. You just didn’t hear me.”
He arched an eyebrow. “And how far away were you when you said this goodbye, hmm?”
My mouth twisted into a knowing smile. “Not that far.”
“You’re such a liar. What’s the matter, malen’kaya d’yavolitsa, afraid to tell the truth?”
What the fuck did those Russian words mean? I was dying to know, but refused to ask.
When he turned his head left and then right as we floated across the dance floor, I mimicked him, moving my head in the opposite direction to him. “Careful, Butcher. It’s really sounding like it bothered you that I didn’t say goodbye to your face. That you, oh, I don’t know, care. Perhaps about me?”
His eyes darkened with something feral. He twirled me and then yanked me back to him so sharply that I ploughed right into him, our bodies smacking together hard enough to force a grunt from my lips. “That would be foolish of you to think,” he whispered, still spinning us around the dance floor, never slowing down. “If it wouldn’t get me kicked out of here, I’d drive my knife right through your heart without blinking an eye.”
Something I’d noticed about Dimitri was that he resorted to threats when he was put in uncomfortable situations. There was something between us. I knew there was, and he did, too. It wasn’t just physical. We connected on a much deeper level. Something about his dark, ferocious soul called to mine. But he was refusing to acknowledge it, and like Johnathon said, he resorted to anger when confronted with it.
“Fine,” I shrugged, pretending it wasn’t fucking killing me that he would never admit it. “You stay the fuck out of my way, and I’ll stay the fuck out of yours. After tonight, we never have to see each other again.”
“Sounds fucking perfect to me,” he growled out.
The music picked up, and we glared at each other as we spun faster and faster. His eyes held me captive, and I was powerless to look away, to do anything except stare at him and follow his lead.
We were so immersed in the dance, in one another, that neither of us even noticed when the other couples had slowly started to depart. We didn’t notice the crowd staring at us in awe. Didn’t notice that we were now completely alone, everyone else just watching us from the sidelines as we glided around the dance floor. We just kept spinning and spinning and spinning, round and round and round, never taking our eyes off each other, the tension building to a point where I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest.
He twirled me once, twice, three times, perfectly in time with the music, and then he dipped me low, his body almost completely covering mine as he supported my weight like it was nothing at all to him. The music ended. The crowd cheered. And yet, our eyes stayed locked, our chests brushing together with each hard breath we drew. For the first time since I’d met him, I could read him perfectly. See the desire blazing in those mesmerising blue orbs. See exactly what was going through his mind when his gaze flicked to my lips.
And then, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, as if he was being drawn towards me by some powerful, unseen force, he closed the small distance between us and kissed me.
Soft but firm, he pressed his lips to mine, and it was like the entire world burst into technocolour. I’d envisioned that kiss so many times. Pictured it. Dreamt it. Wondered how it would feel. And it was a thousand times better than I ever thought it would be.
His tongue dipped into my mouth, the taste of him making a moan bubble up low in my throat. Our lips moved together, perfectly in sync, desire quickly building in my lower belly.
I opened my eyes, not wanting to miss a single shred of the moment. I wanted to trace every sharp line, every detail of his face so I would remember it forever.
The moment Dimitri Volkov finally gave in.
I sifted my fingers through his hair, scraping my nails against his scalp. He groaned, kissing me harder, more forcefully.
Then, it all went to hell.
Because I had my eyes open, I was able to see the exact moment Dimitri realised what he was doing. His eyes shot open in shock. He still had me dipped from the dance, so when he abruptly let me go, I didn’t have the time to catch myself, and I went crashing to the ground, pain shooting up my spine.
The crowd gasped in unison.
Fucking ow.
Dimitri retreated quickly, eyes as wide as saucers. He stared at me dumbfounded for a moment, not moving a muscle, and then his hand drifted upwards, lightly touching his lips. The look on his face… It screamed, “What have I done? What have I done?”
I’d seen Dimitri face down an army of men without so much as a shred of emotion. Seen him stare death right in the eyes and say, “Fuck you”.
And yet, kissing me was what brought forth that terrified, panicked look on his face?
What was so fucking bad about kissing me?
He stared at me for all of two seconds before he spun and marched out of the room without even an apology for dropping me on my ass in front of a room full of people.
An awkward silence ensued. I picked myself up off the floor, making sure to keep my head held high. I wasn’t going to show an ounce of the discomfort and humiliation I was feeling in front of those people, despite the pitying looks some of them were giving me.
I ran my hands down the front of my dress, straightened my spine, pushed my shoulders back and walked out the same way Dimitri had, my steps graceful and unhurried.
The moment I turned a corridor and was out of their line of sight, I let the rage fill me.
How fucking dare he.
I stormed down the hallway in search of Dimitri. There was no way I was letting that fucker get away with humiliating me like that.
He wasn’t hard to find.
The sound of furniture being smashed, of glass breaking, came from a few doors up and to the right. An angry scowl took over my face, so much adrenaline soaring through my body that I began to shake with rage. I grabbed a bunchful of my dress with both hands and marched towards the door. Irate Russian cursing came from behind it.
I’d definitely found him.
I front-kicked the door open. Pacing in the middle of what looked like some sort of bedroom was Dimitri, his suit jacket gone, discarded on the floor. He stopped moving, his head whipping to me. If I had to guess the emotions blazing in those sapphire eyes, I’d guess anger and sexual frustration.
“Leave,” he snarled, resuming his pacing.
I didn’t.
He didn’t fucking scare me. I couldn’t care less that he was mad. I was the one that was mad here.
“What the hell was that?” I hissed, stepping closer.
He threw his hands up and backed away from me like I had the goddamn fucking plague. “I said leave. What part of that don’t you understand?”
“Oh, I understand it just fine. I just don’t care. You had no right to do that to me.”
“Do what?” he spat, sounding genuinely confused, and it pissed me off even more.
I took off one of my heels and threw it at his head.
He ducked out of the way. “What the fuck is your problem, woman?!”
“You! You’re my problem!” I yelled, pointing at him. “’Do what?’ ’Do what?’” I mocked, mimicking him right down to that stupid, sexy accent of his. “You humiliated me in a room full of people just now. What the fuck do you mean, ’do what?’”
He frowned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
My mouth dropped open in outrage. He didn’t. He really didn’t have a fucking clue what I was talking about.
Rage pounded in my veins. I took off my other heel and threw that at him too. He dove to the side, narrowly missing it. But I didn’t stop there. There was a gold-ornate photo frame on the dresser. I threw that. There was a crystal ashtray probably worth $50,000. I threw that too. Anything I could get my hands on, I threw at him and he ducked and dove, trying his best to avoid getting hit with whatever I was hurling at him.
I ripped a lamp from the wall and flung it at him. He somersaulted out of the way, and it smashed into the wall, breaking into a thousand pieces.
He sprung back up to his feet and whipped around to face me. “Stop throwing shit at me!”
“Stop saying stupid shit!” I’d run out of objects to throw, but I had one more thing left. I moved my dress to the side and reached for the holster strapped to my inner thigh, holding my knife.
Dimitri watched me, his eyes flashing. “Don’t fucking do it.”
A sadistic smile spread across my face. “Fuck you.” He was just lucky I wasn’t able to conceal my gun wearing this dress, otherwise I would have fucking shot him by then.
I flipped the blade between my fingers. “That was the last fucking straw, Butcher. I’m sick of this hot and cold game you keep playing.”
“I’m not playing any game!”
“Bullshit! It’s all you’re doing, and I’ve had enough.”
His face set into hard stone. He stormed towards me, dark, dangerous energy vibrating from him. I didn’t back away. “You think I like this?” he hissed, staring down at me. “You think I like this fucking torment warring inside of me? That I like feeling this way? You drive me absolutely fucking insane!”
“Me?! Are you kidding me?!” I shrieked, aghast. “You’re the one who kissed me and then just stormed away! If anyone is driving someone insane, it’s you! What the hell is it that you want?!”
“You!” he snarled, full of anger and fire.
“Then fucking take me!”
His chest rose and fell with deep, heavy breaths, his jaw clenched so hard that I feared he would shatter his teeth. He stared deep into my eyes and I stared right back into his, refusing to look away. Some internal struggle waged within him. I could see it, and I saw the exact moment he finally beat whatever it was.
“Fuck it.” He grabbed my face with both hands and slammed his lips onto mine. It was like a bomb went off. Weeks and weeks of repressed sexual tension came rushing to the surface between us, igniting the fire.
We kissed, and there was nothing sweet or romantic about it like before. It was all anger and lust. Teeth and ferociousness. I pulled back, punched him in the face, grabbed his head with both hands and yanked him back to kiss him harder. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it. In fact, it seemed to turn him on more because he snarled, picking me up and slamming me up against the wall. I moaned into his mouth, dropping my knife to grip onto his shoulders.
He kissed me harder. His hands moved all over my body like he couldn’t get enough of me. Squeezing my breasts. My hips. The insides of my thighs.
The kiss was fucking heavenly. Everything about him—his taste, the feel of him—added to the pleasure and excitement coursing through my veins.
“I need to know how you taste.” And then he dropped to his knees in front of me as if he couldn’t wait another fucking second. He pushed my legs further apart, moved my dress up, hooked his fingers around my thong to push them to the side and closed his mouth over me.
His eyes rolled back into his head and he let loose a deep, masculine groan filled with nothing but pure satisfaction. Pleasure shot up my spine. “Oh, fucking hell,” I breathed out, my head falling back and thumping against the wall.
He fucking feasted. It wasn’t slow or soft. It was hard, forceful. He moved his tongue and his lips all over me, kissing my pussy like he’d just done with my mouth, full of eagerness and drive.
“Dimitri, shit. Fuck, yes. Yes.” I rolled my hips and gripped my breasts with both hands, squeezing tightly.
“Fucking show them to me. Now,” he demanded, and all I wanted to do was please him.
I pulled down the straps of my dress, followed by my bra. My breasts spilt out. He reached one hand up and closed his palm over one. He squeezed, and it felt ten times better when he did it.
His tongue, warm and wet, moved faster, circling my clit. Ecstasy swam in my veins. It felt so good. I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer.
Dimitri was already so attuned with my body that he knew. He fucking knew. Pleasure burst throughout my whole body when he rammed two fingers inside me, and turned his head to latch his teeth into my skin at the apex of my thighs. He bit down hard as he pumped his fingers in and out, and I screamed, pure euphoria drowning me. He rode me through the high perfectly, his fingers still moving inside me until my body stopped shaking. He took them out, absolutely covered in my wetness. He sucked them into his mouth, his eyes staying firmly on me.
My legs wobbled, but this time, Dimitri didn’t let me fall. His strong hands gripped my hips tightly, holding me in place. He kissed my pussy once before moving upwards, biting into me through my dress. Pain and pleasure mingled together beautifully with each delicious bite. He sank his teeth into the curve of my hip hard enough to make me hiss. He moved up, biting the skin right under my breast next. He sucked hard, and I had no doubt there would be a mark there later.
“I want you fucking covered in my marks,” he growled against me as he moved across to my other breast. He sealed his mouth over my nipple, and I moaned as more pleasure burst inside me.
Why does the idea of being absolutely covered in marks by Dimitri Volkov turn me on so much?
He nibbled up my chest, biting and sucking into my skin. He gripped my face, turned it to the side forcefully so he could keep going up my neck completely uninterrupted, and I let him. I let him mark me. Let him bite me. I fucking wanted it. More than anything.
“You’re fucking perfection,” he whispered huskily into my ear.
I shivered.
“I’m going to fuck you now, malen’kaya d’yavolitsa.” He moved his hands to his pants and pulled out his cock. I was desperate to see it. To put it in my mouth and give him the same pleasure he gave me. But he had other plans. He moved his head back slightly to look at me. “If you want to punch me again, go right ahead.” A dark smirk curled on his lips. “I fucking like it.” And then he rammed inside me with one, deep thrust.
We both moaned at the same time. He pinned my body to the wall and started hammering into me. No delicacy. No finesse. It was a pure rutting, and it was the hottest thing to ever happen to me. With each thrust, more and more pleasure assaulted me, taking me over.
“Give me your fucking mouth, Autumn,” he grunted, pounding and pounding and pounding.
I didn’t give it. “Fucking take it, Butcher.”
His eyes flashed. He gripped my chin painfully hard (I loved it) and he did exactly what I said. He clamped his mouth over mine and shoved his tongue past my lips. I kissed him back, our tongues dueling for supremacy.
His cock, gloriously big and thick, moved deep within me. My pussy rippled, the pleasure so fucking good that I bit down hard enough on his lip to draw blood. He hissed, fire blazing in those beautiful blue orbs. I reached up behind him and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back roughly while still having his lip locked between my teeth. He groaned, and it was the best fucking sound I’d ever heard.
Dimitri Volkov liked it fucking rough.
I let his lip go with a pop. Blood trickled down his chin.
“You’re not the only one who likes to leave marks.”
That seemed to excite him more. He started moving faster and faster, his hips pistoning forward so hard that my ass slammed against the wall over and over again.
“Mark my cock, then, malen’kaya d’yavolitsa. Cum all over it. Fucking do it.”
Usually, I needed a little more to get there, but that moment had been built up for so long, the sexual tension and desire blazing between me and Dimitri so combustible that, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t need my usual kinks to get off.
All I needed was him.
His tongue ran up the side of my neck in one long lick, and then he latched his teeth into my skin at the same time as he powered forward. White-hot, sizzling pleasure ripped through me. Waves and waves of ecstasy washed over me, and I moaned Dimitri’s name as I came so hard that I saw fucking stars.
Dimitri cursed in Russian, hiked my legs up higher and drove into me once, twice, three times before he flung his head back and groaned, low and long, the muscles in his neck straining.
What a fucking sight he made.
He slumped against me, breathing heavily. There was a few minutes of post sex bliss, him just resting up against me until his whole body stiffened.
No. Don’t do it.
But I already knew. I already fucking knew.
Leaning back to look me in the eyes, that internal struggle he was battling earlier was back, taking over his face. He hesitated for a brief moment before pulling out of me and putting me back on my feet. He tucked himself back away into his pants.
I fixed my dress. Well, as well as I could, anyway. I pulled my bra and straps back over my shoulders and shifted the material back down to cover my pussy. He’d torn my dress, though, so my black thong was still semi noticeable.
We stared at each other.
Some of the tension had definitely dissipated, but the ache in my soul for him was still there. The sex had done nothing to quell it.
Is it the same for him?
He opened his mouth—
“Okay, I’ve let you stew for long enough—” Mikhail entered the room and stopped mid-sentence when he saw us. Dimitri immediately took three wide steps back from me, and I won’t lie, it hurt a little.
But was I going to show that?
Fuck no.
Mikhail looked around the room, his eyes running over the destruction of broken furniture and lamps and photo frames, and then his gaze flicked between us. He took a deep breath in through his nose as if he was scenting the air, and then the biggest fucking smirk graced his lips. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“You’re not,” Dimitri grunted.
“It’s fine, I’ll come back—”
“No need,” I smiled, praying to God neither one of them could see how absolutely fake it was. “We’re done, aren’t we, Dimitri?”
