Page 63 of Pageant

“Say thank you.”

“Spacibo,” I whisper.

He shoots a heated glance at Konstantin. “Fuck, how do you do it? This hellcat is now a soft little kitten.”

Konstantin spreads his hands and gives his friend a sleek, self-satisfied smile.

“Did you ever get her to behave like this?” Kirill asks, turning to Elyah.

Elyah is staring at me. At my lips. My throat. My breasts. He shifts on his feet and folds his arms the other way, his cheeks stained red. He’s filled with restless sexual energy and his eyes are half-lidded. “Maybe. For one moment.” He presses his lips together and I think I hear a faint groan from the back of his throat. “But now I think about it, it was me under her spell.”

Kirill goes back to where he was sitting, laughing under his breath.

Silence stretches in the room once more and I have nothing to distract me from the pain. My scalp prickles. My arms burn from holding them in such an unnatural position. There are pins and needles in my legs. But most of all, the pain in my nipples is slowly becoming unbearable. Each breath hurts and my flesh feels like it’s splitting open.

As tears start to fill my eyes, Konstantin pats his thigh. “Come here.”

Slowly, awkwardly, still holding on to my elbows, I get down from the table and slide into his lap. My knees squeeze his hips in a desperate plea. All I can think about is Konstantin releasing me from this torture.

His eyes roam over my body and he slides his hands around my bare hips. Beneath me, his thighs are hard and strong. Still gazing at me, he murmurs, “How are you doing, Elyah? Is this torture for you, seeing what I’m doing to Number Eleven?”

“I thought I would go mad with jealousy watching any man touch Lilia, but watching her with Kirill yesterday…” Elyah trails off with a slow breath. “I have never seen anything sexier in all my life. Perhaps until now.”

I remember his tight grip on the nape of my neck and his rough breathing as he watched me moan in pleasure. Either his jealousy was shattered by betrayal, or these men are different somehow.

“So, I can touch her?” Konstantin asks, and I have to bite my tongue not to shout,He said he doesn’t care! Take these clamps off me, I’m begging you.

“Please,” I whimper.

Kirill gets to his feet, undoing his black jeans. “I’ll fuck her face, Konstantin.”

“No,” I cry, and Kirill freezes and glares at me. Feeding me vodka is one thing, but I’ll suck that man’s cock over my dead body.

Konstantin’s expression turns chilly, and I soften my tone and implore him with my eyes. “I just want you.”

Konstantin cups my cheek and strokes it with his thumb. “Seeing as you ask so nicely.” He shakes his head at Kirill. “Sorry, my friend.”

The dark-haired man sits heavily on the table, grumbling, “I never get anything I want unless I take it for myself.”

Konstantin strokes his thumbs over the undersides of my breasts. He skims so close to the clamps that I nearly dissolve into pained sobs.

“Take them off, please,” I pant.

“Not until I’m inside you. You may let go of your elbows.”

I release my arms and ride a wave of gratitude as my screaming muscles finally find release. I can feel the hard line of his cock against my bare pussy. With hands shaking from adrenaline and anticipation, I undo his pants and reach inside to draw him out. Konstantin’s thick cock is blazing hot in my cold fingers, and I squeeze him in my palm, eliciting a groan from his lips.

Our eyes meet, and a moment passes between us. The room, the whole world, drops away. He takes my ass in his hands and holds me close.

“Are you wet for me,milaya?” he murmurs huskily.

I sit up a little and run the head of him between my folds, and he glistens with my arousal.

“Perfect,” he breathes. “Sink down on me. Show me how pretty you look stuffed full of my cock.”

I do as he asks, holding tight to his shoulders as I sink slowly down his length. For a moment, my insides clench in protest and fear as my body remembers Ivan’s unwelcome, repulsive intrusion. Konstantin keeps still. He’s not shoving himself into me. He’s murmuring soft words in Russian as he caresses my hips, letting me lovingly draw him into myself. I moan at the vast difference in the sensations. Ivan hurt like hell. Konstantin feels golden. Every inch of him is delicious, the pleasure heightened by the continued throb of my nipples.

As I pause for breath, Konstantin removes one clamp, and then the other, and tosses them onto the desk. Relief and endorphins pour through me, and I collapse against Konstantin’s chest, burying my face in his neck with an ecstatic moan. My inner muscles ripple around his thick length that’s driving deeper into me as gravity pushes me down. I’m sobbing, but from happiness, not despair. He’s not my tormentor.

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