Page 43

His finger moves to my back, pressing at the tight muscle there through the fabric, and I tense at the unknown feeling. They never touched me there. “One day, I’ll fuck this tight little ass of yours, and it’ll feel so fucking good, baby,” he whispers in my ear, pressing hard one last time before returning to my clit.

His finger moves to my back, pressing at the tight muscle through the fabric, and I tense at the feeling. They touched me there, but it was harsh and painful. “One day, I’ll fuck this tight little ass of yours, and it’ll feel so fucking good, baby,” he whispers in my ear, pressing hard one last time before returning to my clit.

Do I want him to fuck me there? I don’t know why that’s so appealing, but I’m willing to try it to please him.

He walks us over to his bed, laying me down softly before standing tall, looking down on me like I’m his prey. I sit up on my elbows, watching him stroke the stubble on his chin, thinking about something. It’s like an idea sparks in his head as a smirk crawls across his lips.

He comes to me, pulling my leggings off, tossing them behind him. He walks around to the other side of the bed, climbs in, and sits up, barely on the headboard in the middle of the bed, smirk still firmly on his face.

“Sit on my face.” What.

I’m unsure if I heard him correctly when he speaks again, “Sit on my face.” His tone is firm this time, like I have no room to argue.

He gets annoyed with my lack of movement and makes his way to the end of the bed, dragging me up with him and maneuvering us so I’m straddling him. I make a noise out of surprise, and his dark expression lightens, the smirk on his face turning into an actual smile.

“I love your smile,” I blurt, eyes widening at the realization I just said that. I act like I just blabbed the government’s secrets. I only told the man I liked his damn smile. Like he hears my thoughts, he smiles wider, his straight white teeth peeking out from his pink lips.

Without thinking, I lean down so fast and press my lips to his that our teeth make a little ‘clink’. I feel his chuckle under me, hearing it in my own mouth. His tongue invades my mouth, licking at every crevice.

He pulls back, that dark look in his eyes. “Sit on my face, Moss.” His voice is almost pleading, like he’s begging me to let him make me feel good.

At this point, he’s getting impatient with my muteness and lack of doing what he wants. He grabs my hips, lifting them and moving me to where I’m hovering over his face. I grab the headboard and look at the city behind it.

I moan loudly, setting my hot forehead on the cool glass when his tongue traces my pussy outside of my underwear. His hands palm my ass, squeezing the flesh hard, making my hips lurch forward more onto his mouth. I gasp when I feel him tear my underwear away, feeling sorrow for the pair of underwear that I’ve only worn once. “Stop ripping my clothes,” I say, feeling annoyed.

“Baby, I’ll buy all the clothing stores in this fucking world for you. Now sit down.” I’m hovering on my knees, making sure not to put all my weight on him. He grabs my hips before shoving me down on his mouth, wasting no time diving in.

I grind my hips as his tongue swirls my clit, nipping at it with his teeth, sparking pain up my skin, tingling my skin. One of his hands moved to my center, inserting one finger with ease due to how wet I was. “Oh, baby, you’re soaking for me,” he growls, the sound reverberating off my pussy. “You’re such a good girl.”

My hips grind into his face harder, the coil tightening to the max. Before it can explode, a gunshot rings out, drowning my moans.

Dmitri stiffens under me, throwing me off him as gently as possible. Getting off the bed in a blink, I’m in his arms, and he’s running us to the closet. He sets me down in the middle, filtering through the clothing. What the fuck is he looking for?

Looking like he found what he was looking for, he rushes back over to me, picking me up by my waist and shoving me into the clothes, which seem to have a hidden room in them. He throws a pair of underwear at me, hesitating for a minute.

“I love you, Moss.” And then he’s gone, the steel door shut and locked behind him.

I stand there stunned for a couple of seconds, making sure what just happened actually happened. It takes all my strength not to scream and kick at the door to be let out.

I take in my surroundings, the place is large, split up into three smaller sections, now making sense why there are no doors on one side of the hallway leading to the bedroom. There’s a tiny bathroom in the back with a normal shower, normal toilet, nothing fancy. In the middle is a bedroom, a queen-size bed, a small TV, a radio, a wardrobe, and a lamp.

In front of this place is a living room and a kitchen. The kitchen is decent. It has a small pantry full of food, very few sweet treats or snacks.

There are metal racks on one of the walls, full of pasta, soups, canned fruits, and anything you could ever need to last a while. Twenty very large water tanks are crowded around the racks.

In the living room, there’s a couch and a table. The table has an assortment of crayons, markers, and every coloring book under the sun. In the corner of the box, there’s a small bookshelf full of every book genre.

The cupboards are full of pots and pans, plates and bowls, cups and mugs, knives, spoons, and forks. The basics, you know. I don’t think I’ll be in here long, so I’ve already downed one of the bags of chips. I’m sitting on the bed wrapped in the fluffy blanket that was on it, watching some old black-and-white movie on the box screen. The sound is so quiet you almost can’t hear it, but I’m assuming that’s on purpose.

Making my way to the bed, I wrap myself in blankets and stare at the concrete wall. Why did he leave? How long will he be gone? Does he not want me? I hope this isn’t the way I die. In a concrete box where I was starved to death. All kinds of thoughts stir around my mind for hours before the tears start. I haven’t heard any noise. My tears flow down my face, falling onto the pillow below me. Before I know it, I succumb to my sleepiness.

I wake up lying at the end of the bed, still alone in this little cement box. Getting up to use the bathroom, once I’m done, I make my way to the living room to grab coloring books and markers, and finally make my way back to the bedroom.

I sit on the edge of the bed, everything spread out in front of me. Turning on the TV, I find a channel that has something playing, just letting it play while I color.

The days that I assume are days blur together. I’ve completed four of the coloring books, cover to cover. I’ve slept so much I’m starting to loathe sleeping. It’s all I can do. I’ve eaten nasty canned fruit. I ate all the snacks, not that there were many to begin with.

I’m so fucking tired of being in here. I’m frustrated I never got to orgasm the other day, so I’m still needy. I know I’m in here for my safety and all that, but I don’t even have my phone or my laptop, or my damn iPad. I have nothing, and I’m dying of boredom.