Page 18 of Wicked Vow

But the feeling lingers long after I’ve gotten out of the bath and gone to bed. And it continues to linger, even in my dreams.

I dream of the moment I felt protected by him. When I saw his violence turned away from me and towards someone who wanted to hurt me even more than he did, who wanted medead.I see him pinning my stalker to the grass all over again in my dream, his fists coming down, pummeling the man’s face to meat until there was no doubt that he’d never hurt or threaten me again.

Mikhail had stalked me too, threatened me too–but in that moment, I’d known clearly that he’d told me the absolute truth about one thing.

He would never let anyone else hurt me.

In a strange, toxic kind of way, it made me feel safer than I ever had in my life.

In the dream, he runs his hands over me again, looking for injuries, panicked that I might have been hurt in some way. His hands cup my face, streaking blood over my cheeks as he stared into my eyes, and I saw the fear of a man terrified to lose me.

A man who felt things he couldn’t even admit to himself.

You’re sure nothing is hurt? You’re sure you’re alright?

It seems like you actually care. You saved me.

My heart races all over again as I dream of him walking me back against the closed door, his hands tilting my face up to his, his eyes searching mine as he looked at me as if I were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

I told you. You’re mine.

In the dream, his mouth is on mine again, his lips crushed to mine as he’d kissed me with the passion of a man who wantedme, who had been terrified to loseme, and who was desperate to never come so close to it again. I feel that need, that ferocity all over again, the way it had hummed through my veins until my body answered it, aching for him with the same wild helplessness.

Whatever else we were to each other, we’d connected in a way I’d never felt before. Something about him and I fit together, like pieces of a puzzle that should never have been shaped to each other.

I’d stopped fighting, at that moment. I’d forgotten everything except how he felt against me, the way he was kissing me, the vibrant, thrilling reminder that I was still alive. I’d felt myself soften towards him, letting everything else go in the face of the fact that he’d saved me. That I was still alive because of him.

In the dream, I gasp all over again, my mouth opening under his as I reach for him,grabfor him, wanting him closer. I arch against him, wanting more, wanting all the pleasure I know he can give me.

I whisper his name.Mikhail.

I feel him respond as I breathe it against his lips, and I know I’m lost.

His hands slide over me, pushing up the silk of my dress, streaking me with blood, but I hardly notice. It doesn’t matter–nothing matters except the way I flush hot as he touches me, the feeling of his mouth on my throat, the bite of his teeth on my collarbone as he makes his way down my body.

I know where he’s going, what he’s going to do, and my body clenches in anticipation, needing it. The clutch of his hands against my hips makes me gasp, his fingers digging into my soft flesh, my body wanting the pain as well as the pleasure that he’s taught me to crave.

He drags my panties down with his teeth, yanking them down my thighs, letting them fall as his mouth presses hungrily at the apex, his tongue sliding eagerly between my folds, not bothering to tease me with it. That turns me on even more, knowing he’s too hungry to wait, too eager to make me beg for it.

His obsession, out of control at last–but I’m too lost to take advantage of it because I’ve lost control too.

In the dream, I grab his hair again, holding him to me as he slides his tongue over my throbbing clit, driving me toward the edge of a wild climax, my hips grinding against his face–

I wake up gasping, my heart racing so hard that it almost hurts. The room is dark around me, the sheets tangled, and I can feel how wet I am. My entire body is aching, throbbing, on the verge of the orgasm that I’d been dreaming about, and I push my hand between my thighs without thinking about it, my fingers seeking out my aching clit.

I’m too lost in the need to come to think about how I shouldn’t keep imagining Mikhail. It was him in my dream, and it’s him that I see as my fingers move fast and hard against my slick, heated flesh. His lips sucking against my clit, fluttering over it, his hands holding me hard against his mouth. His cock plunging between my thighs as he lifts me up, holding me against the door as he drives into me hard, fucking me with all the rough, desperate passion I need.

It’s his name that I grit my teeth against as I come, remembering the hot, hard thrusts of his cock, the way he filled me up, the rush of his cum as he’d held the back of my neck, devouring my mouth as if he could never get enough of me.

I barely remember where I am, my hips arching up against my hand as I shudder with the hard, forceful ripples of my climax, just sensible of it enough to keep from moaning aloud as I twist sideways in the sheets, muffling my face against the pillow. It feels so fucking good–but it’s not enough.

I don’t know if anything will ever be enough again, after him.

Mikhail

By the time Viktor’s men uncuff me from the chair, cuff my wrists again and march me out of the room, Natalia is long gone.

I’m sure I know where she is. I know Viktor well enough for that. He will have taken her and Ruby to his home, where his wife can fawn over them and coddle them until they feel safe and comfortable again. And then–

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