Evgeni (Siberian Ambush Book 1) Read online

  Inadvertently, Celia shuddered as his oily fingers slid up her thighs. The sensation of his lubricated skin on hers was maddening, and she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around his consideration. Surely if he wanted to simply hurt her, he wouldn’t have applied the oil first? She imagined ripping the wax off would thrill a true sadist.

  Deciding that Evi wasn’t a pure sadist, she breathed a bit easier.

  Evi abandoned his oil massage and rose. When he came back to her, she sensed him on her left and then heard what she could only guess were perhaps a candleholder and some kind of metal canister being placed on the floor. Evi moved again, this time settling on his knees in front of her. His hands cupped her chin and for a terrifying and thrilling moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he shifted her head up and back.

  “Don’t move your head, Celia,” he instructed, brushing blonde tendrils behind her ears. “I’d hate to drip wax on that pretty face.”

  Realizing he was serious, Celia made certain that she kept her neck perfectly still as she heard him rise and begin to circle her. Hindered by the blindfold, she had to rely on her sense of hearing and the soft wind that blew across her skin as he walked to judge his movements. He was obviously trying to keep her on tenterhooks as he delayed spilling the wax—and it was working. Each passing minute of waiting and wondering when she would feel the scalding liquid on her skin was almost unbearable.

  And then, finally, it came.

  When the first hot droplet fell onto the delicate skin between her breasts, she gasped but held her urge to arch in check. Before she could even process the first sensation, a stream of wax was dripping onto her abdomen, completely covering her navel. It was hot but not painfully so, and she could feel the pliable hot wax hardening in the cooler air circulating in the bedroom.

  Behind her, Evi dropped to his knees, widening them so his thighs straddled hers and his chest pressed against her back. With his right hand, he palmed her right breast, kneading the heavy globe. As he pinched her puckered nipple, she felt a hot glob of wax land on her left breast. She prayed the wax wouldn’t stray onto the sensitive peak.

  His cheek against hers, Evi continued twisting and pinching her right nipple while simultaneously dribbling wax onto her left breast until the top was almost completely covered, leaving only the nipple bare. His hand moved away and she expected to feel wax falling onto her right breast—but she didn’t.

  Celia cried out when an ice cube began circling her right nipple. The shock of cold when she was expecting heat was enough to throw her off kilter, and she almost moved. She was finally able to place the sloshing noise she had heard when Evi returned. It must have been water and ice in a metal bucket.

  Quite an aficionado at sensation play, Evi began alternating wax with ice, plying her trembling body with the implements in a completely random pattern. Wax splashed her thighs and ice cubes circled her stomach. Wax pooled on the crest of her right breasts and an ice cube melted against the tightly creased left nipple.

  Celia quickly gained an understanding of the term pleasure-pain and realized there was an exquisite discomfort to be derived from the application of such jarringly different temperatures. Her entire body buzzed with heightened sensation to the point that Evi’s fingertips running down her still-bound arms made her pussy clench.

  Evi blew out the candle and then she heard ice cubes crackling against one another. She waited to feel the ice on her skin and moaned when Evi pressed an ice cube to her neck, just below her earlobe. When she felt the tip of his nose and his warm breath against her skin, she realized he was holding the cube between his lips. He trailed the ice up and down one side of her neck before taking it to the other. All the while, his hands roamed her body, pulling off some of the hardened bits of wax and creating sensations of intense pain followed by slow throbbing.

  With the ice cube resting against her right collarbone, Evi let it fall from his lips. Slowly it slid down the contours of her body, riding the inside of her breast and down her stomach before bumping into a spot of wax on her thigh. It clung to her skin, and she shivered inadvertently as Evi sucked her earlobe and began untying the binds holding her elbows and wrists together.

  In her pleasurable torment, Celia had completely forgotten about her restrained arms. When she was finally free, Evi rubbed her shoulders and elbows and allowed her to roll her shoulders to release the tension that had built up in the muscles.

  He left the blindfold on so she had only the warning of his breath against her skin before his hair was brushing her jaw, his head bent over her shoulder to allow his tongue to lave her collarbone. Thighs tensing, she exhaled forcefully and wished that his mouth were on another part of her. Each swipe of an ice cube and drip of wax had sent a fiery pulse to her clit, and yet again she was dying for his touch. How the man managed to reduce her to a quivering, craving mass was beyond her.

  As if sensing her need, Evi suckled her neck and ran his hand down her body, skimming over the bumps of wax marring her skin. His fingers played in the curls covering her sex and then he slid one finger down her slit, through her wetness. She felt him smile against her neck and imagined him smirking triumphantly at his discovery, but her annoyance was obliterated the second he brought a finger to her clit. Celia jumped and groaned, her breath shaky.

  “You’re close to coming,” he stated.

  She bit her lip rather than answer.

  “Celia, answer me. Do you want to come?”

  “Yes,” she whispered hungrily.

  His fingers manipulated her clit until her toes were curling. Her back undulated against his chest as he worked her into a frenzy with his fingers.

  “Do you want to come, Celia?” The fingers of his right hand made quick circles around her clit, increasing their pressure with each pass.

  “Yes, please, Evi! Please!” she begged with a strangled cry, beyond caring about the consequences. Ready for his fingers to work her into an orgasm, Celia opened her thighs wider…

  And was greeted with a shocking and painful application of a handful of ice to her pussy.

  “YOU BASTARD!” she screeched, lunging blindly forward as her orgasm was stolen away and her now numbed clit throbbed.

  Evi’s hands snatched her upper arms, holding her in place. “You’re not going anywhere, Celia. I’m not finished with you yet.”

  Chapter Seven

  With the handful of forgotten ice melting between Celia’s spread knees, Evi released his grip on her arms and pressed her shoulders toward the floor. He was certain he’d finally succeeded in shocking her free from her overwhelmingly strong control of her body and mind.

  Now he could get on with the part he’d been looking forward to—breaking her.

  Leaving a panting Celia braced on all fours, Evi strode to his bedside table and retrieved the strip of condoms in the top drawer. Shapeshifters were immune to human disease, and it was impossible to get the human women he typically hired for these types of services with child. Celia, however, possessed shapeshifter DNA from a grandparent and that throbbing pulse of magical energy deep inside her called to him, warning him and thrilling him. This was not a time to play with fire.

  Desperate to sink into her, he ripped open a foil packet and hastily applied the sheath. He kneeled behind her and ran the tip of his condom-covered penis along the crease of her ass cheeks, straight down to the tip of her surprisingly still-chilled apex. One swipe of her cleft and the latex was already smeared with her slippery arousal. His chest swelled at the realization that he’d driven her to this point of arousal.

  He plunged into her without warning, shoving his cock as deep as it would go. Beneath him, Celia grunted and leaned down to accommodate his length. He could tell she was having trouble taking all of him but that didn’t guilt him into softening his thrusts.

  He was determined that when he was done with her, she wouldn’t be able to move with her usual catlike grace.

  Evi withdrew the entire length of his stiff rod, only to rou
ghly shove it back into her. Picking up the pace, he maintained a swift, thrusting speed, showing no mercy as he plowed into her tight, hot channel. From the mewling sounds emanating from her throat, he knew she was enjoying the roughness of their coupling. She seemed to revel in each deep, abrupt stab of his cock, to savor the velvet outstroke that followed. Even as he considered it, the slick walls of her sex clamped down on his cock, seeming to strangle each second of sensation from his movements.

  Evi’s hand snaked around the front of her neck until his forearm was pressed against her throat. He lifted her, cradling her back to his front with his arm above her chest to hold her in place. The change in the angle of his penetration caused Celia to groan in pleasure. He knew he was stroking her G-spot with each thrust. Her keening cries convinced him she was finding heaven impaled on his cock.

  Lips against her ear, Evi panted, “You will not come, Celia.”

  Undoubtedly understanding thoroughly now that orgasm control was his game, Celia nodded mutely. He wouldn’t make it easy on her.

  With greater intensity, Evi plunged into her core, his chest tightening. He kept one arm against her upper body but allowed the fingers of his other hand to peel the wax from her stomach, making her gasp in pain, pleasure…perhaps a combination of both.

  When he felt his balls constrict, he knew he was close and pushed Celia back down to the floor, left cheek resting against the cold wood. Grabbing her wrists, he held them behind her back, using them like makeshift reins.

  He shifted the weight off his right knee, bending his leg and extending it so that his foot was next to her face. Pressing his toes against her right cheek, he pinned her in place and prepared to fuck her senseless.

  ***

  Celia inhaled sharply in panic when Evi’s toes met her cheek until she realized he wasn’t applying any real force. Had she really wanted to move away, she could have. But the position definitely imparted the delicious sensation of being completely at his mercy.

  Despite her terribly constricted position, she had no desire to move. She liked the feeling of being completely at his mercy, of being reduced to a living doll that existed only for his pleasure.

  And that was a problem. The realization turned her on so badly that she was just moments away from coming.

  Desperate, she tried to ignore her the throbbing, aching need inside her and filled her mind with mundane thoughts. She ran through a mental checklist of proper handgun-cleaning techniques, of the disgusting ingredients used in war water—a nasty occult concoction poured on the doorsteps or in the pathways of enemies to condemn them to terrific strife and sorrow. And finally the sight of her neighbor, Mr. Salazar, retrieving his morning paper in his robe—and only his robe—and giving the entire apartment complex a view of his wrinkled chicken legs and saggy balls.

  Behind her, Evi tensed and growled loudly, pumping brutally as he came. She squeezed her thighs muscles and bit her lip, inhaling trembling breaths as she tried to ignore the heat bubbling in her belly.

  “Blin,” he swore. Sweaty and huffing, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up against him, rolling onto his back.

  She could only guess his motives for clutching her against him. There was always the miniscule chance that he enjoyed a post-nookie cuddle—and again, that was a dismally small chance. No, she was rather certain he merely wanted to ensure she couldn’t run off while he was trying to recover from what sounded like one hell of an orgasm.

  Squirming, Celia tried to allay the now painful ache between her thighs and the feel of brittle wax tugging at her skin. To say she was uncomfortable was a serious understatement. And when is he going to remove this damned blindfold? she wondered in frustration.

  Evi stirred from his orgasm-induced stupor. She was hauled off the floor by her arms and then his hands were on her shoulders, steering her backward. Since she couldn’t see, she trusted in his silent direction and stopped when she felt the duvet against the backs of her thighs. With a few tugs, the blindfold was untied and tossed aside.

  Celia blinked as her eyesight adjusted. Evi was already walking toward a nearby door, his sweaty back turned to her. She supposed she could have made a run for it then but ultimately remained rooted to the spot. She’d come this far. It was too late to renege on the deal now.

  “Lie back on the bed, Celia,” Evi said, entering the bedroom with a small stack of washcloths and hand towels.

  Wordlessly, she did as instructed. Evi paused to pick up the bucket of icy water and plunked it onto the nightstand next to his bed. He tossed a few of the washcloths into the water, soaking them, and threw the hand towels onto the duvet next to Celia. Wringing out a washcloth, he sat beside her. Very carefully, he peeled away the wax clinging to her thighs, using the cold cloth to wipe away the tiny specks and soothe the red splotches left behind.

  Remaining perfectly still, Celia observed his tender ministrations with the same confusion as earlier. What is he playing at?

  ***

  When Evi began removing the wax from her breasts, he watched Celia’s stomach quiver as she held her breath and looked away. He worked slowly so as not to tear the skin but even still, he knew the irritation was intense.

  Evi noticed her tiny grimaces and felt the tiniest tinge of guilt. Yes, he’d planned to inflict a little discomfort and this was just a part of playing with wax, but there was something about Celia that brought his conscience into the mix. He supposed it had something to do with having known her as a child.

  But she was no child now. Sitting beside her, staring down at her naked body, he was confronted with the reality that she had blossomed into a delectably nubile creature. The curve of her lush breasts and those hips called to the beast inside him. Too long he had denied himself a mate. Too long he had foregone the urge to breed. Everything about this beautiful woman made him ache and yearn for things he had never thought to want.

  This surprisingly strong-willed and resourceful young woman had performed exceptionally well for what he was certain was her first foray into bondage and pain play. He found himself more than willing to overlook her minor indiscretions, those tiny groans and movements. Surely she deserved a little comfort now.

  Leaning down on one elbow, Evi draped his other arm around her waist and lowered his mouth to the blotch on her left breast left by the wax. Ever so gently, he traced the outline of the red patch with his tongue, smiling as he felt her shiver. While Celia writhed and issued throaty moans, he spent a little time on each spot, moving slowly down her body until he was kneeling between her legs and dragging his tongue across the wax mark just below her navel.

  He could smell the musky scent of her arousal mixed with the taint of wax and saw that her labia were still swollen from the double orgasm denial he had forced on her. Grabbing a damp washcloth, he gently wiped away the traces of their earlier coupling, removing the wax and latex scent that disagreed with him and leaving her pristine for the tasting.

  Never again, he thought, his mind already racing ahead to the next time and the next and the next that he intended to have her. No more latex. No more barriers. He would have her as nature intended—to hell with the consequences. He didn’t want to think about how she would fight him or raise merry hell about his plans to keep her. Not now. Later, he decided. He would figure out all of the details later.

  Unable to contain his urge, he pressed his face between her thighs. She squealed at the sensation of his nose pushing against her inflamed clit, and with a pump of her hips, silently urged him to lick her into abandon. Intoxicated by her earthy smell, he traced her nether lips with his pointed tongue but avoided her clit. He would save that for the very last moment. He wanted her to be desperate with need.

  With broad tongue strokes, he lapped at her labia and flicked his tongue at her now-dripping opening. Hands on her thighs, he tongue-fucked her pussy, savoring the tangy flavor as she mewled and arched atop the duvet. Finally, he sucked her plump clit between his lips, rolling his tongue across the bud before rele
asing it. Almost manically, she ground her pussy against his face, silently begging him to give her release.

  For better access, he grasped her knees and draped them over his shoulders before slipping two fingers into her well-lubricated passage, tilted them up and pumping. The more she squirmed, the harder and faster he moved his fingers. His lips and tongue continued their assault on her clit, and he mixed up the sensations by gently teething the quivering bud after every nine or ten strokes.

  When her pussy started to spasm, he went wild on her clit, frantically moving his mouth side to side. Celia screamed an incoherent string of Spanish curse words as she came, her legs flexing and toes digging into Evi’s shoulders. He greedily ate her pussy as if it were an exotic and juicy succulent fruit, taking and tasting and imprinting her scent in his memory forever.

  While she trembled and panted, Evi wiped his mouth on a clean washcloth and began tidying up the room, ignoring his engorged cock. For the better part of five minutes she seemed completely unaware of his movements. The sound of ice water dumping into the sink garnered her attention and she sat up on the bed, her eyes hazy with pleasure, her skin still marred by the wax play.

  Evi took in her disheveled state for a second before speaking. “I suggest you rest until I have everything set up for our next game.”

  “Next game?” she repeated with a hint of apprehension.

  Smiling devilishly, Evi strode to a door on the other side of the bed and flung it wide. “Tell me, Celia. Have you ever been strapped to a spanking horse?”

  Chapter Eight

  Celia heard squeaking wheels and then saw an ominous black leather contraption being pushed out of the closet and into the center of the room.

  Oh shit.

  It didn’t take much coaxing to convince her to mount the spanking horse, however—not that she really had a choice. Built in the style of a gymnastic vaulting horse, the sturdy contraption was shorter and boasted two angled and padded benches for knee rests lining either side. The leather hump she straddled was just long enough to brace her torso, leaving her bottom suspended just over the edge—a prime position for Evi’s use. Heavy steel D-rings had been attached to the front and back ends and at even intervals on both sides so that one’s lover could be immobilized for maximum effect.