Page 26 of Cruel Russian King
A forbidden image of me, naked and restrained, flashed in my mind, as Artyom's hand trailed a whip along my body. My breaths were coming fast, anticipation mixing with fear.
I swallowed hard, forcing the thought down, but I couldn’t ignore the throbbing between my thighs.
Ninel! You snap out of it!
I placed my hands on his chest with the intention of pushing him away, but my fingers curled around his shirt instead.
He leaned closer, and pressed his forehead against mine. One hand traced the side of my body, brushing the swell of my breast. I bit my lip to keep quiet, trying to mask the hitch in my breath.
Artyom’s touch and his words made me abandon any notion of the normal fantasy life I had craved. I’d never had sex, but I wasn’t naive about the many variations there was to it. The man in front of me had completely shattered that image of what I thought I wanted. No matter how much I tried to resist, I felt it…I wanted him, because some part of me knew he could never truly hurt me. Not when he looked at me like he was now. The thought of him pleasing me in bed both thrilled and terrified me.
I wasn’t the only one struggling with desire. I felt Artyom’s erection pressing into my stomach, his heartbeat thundering against my hands, and it made everything inside me ache for him.
His hand slid behind my neck and lifted my head so I could meet his gaze.
“What are you doing to me, printsessa…” he said huskily, almost in a pained voice.
Just then, footsteps echoed outside the door shaking us out of the trance. When the knob turned, and rattled, Artyom shoved me behind him. I grabbed his free hand and held it tightly, as I held my breath.
“Mr. Rykov.”
Artyom went to the door and opened it.
“Kolya.”
“Mr. Rykov, are you both okay?” Koyla asked.
“She is,” Artyom stated as we stepped out of the room.
Koyla was a mountain of a man, thick dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, pink lips partially hidden beneath a thick beard and mustache.
“Any word on the men?” Artyom asked as we walked out of the hallway.
Two more guards walked ahead of us and another two brought up the rear. I felt tiny compared to the men.
“No sir, whoever looped the video is skilled. We’ll need your descriptions to run through the database,” Kolya said.
I froze as we approached the curtain we had slipped through earlier.
“So…the men could still be out there if Kolya doesn’t know what they look like…” My voice cracked.
“Stay here,” Artyom ordered.
I nodded, untangling my hand from his, missing the warmth of it. Standing among the guards, I watched him and Kolya walk back into the gallery.
My arms wrapped around my stomach, trying to keep my nerves at bay. After what felt like an eternity, and I thought I needed to step into the gallery because they were taking too long to return, Artyom reappeared from behind the curtain.
Instead of taking my hand, he rested his on the small of my back, and together we walked out.
At the SUVs, he helped me inside, then retrieved the keys to the Porsche I’d been holding, handing them to one of the men before sliding in beside me.
I had half-hoped he’d take my hand in his on the way back home, but he didn’t. I stared out the window, trying to push down the rush of emotions bubbling under my skin.
Maybe it was the adrenaline of being hunted, maybe the fact that we’d been alone, the closeness of the closet…but whatever it was, it was gone now, and I wasn’t about to dwell on it. Artyom sat beside me, stoic and unshaken. If he could remain unfazed, so could I…no matter how much it hurt.
Chapter 9 - Artyom
After extracting Ninel from the art gallery things took a further nose dive.
