Under Control: Chapter 13

The wedding breaks up and Valentin drags me into the mansion. “What are we doing now?” I ask him but he doesn’t respond. Instead, we end up in the dining room as several bottles of very good vodka get carried in by Nikkita.

“Traditional Russian celebration,” Valentin explains as he pours me a glass. “To your health.”

He takes his own measure and throws it back. I watch him, stomach twisted into knots and core still tangled with the memory of his kiss. I sip the vodka, and it’s surprisingly not that bad—and it warms my belly when I toss it all the way down.

“Good girl,” Valentin says as he pours another.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Not exactly.” He paces away from me toward the windows. “Distracting you, more like.”

“From what?”

He nods as the door opens and several men come inside. I watch them carry boxes up the steps and disappear onto the second floor. A sinking, nervous feeling makes me put my second glass of vodka back down on the table.

“Valentin,” I repeat, a little more urgently now. “From what?”

He ignores me and drifts to the doorway. The men return and one of them pauses in front of his boss. They speak Russian and I have no idea what they’re saying, but soon the men are gone, and Valentin’s taking me by the arm again.

“I assume you didn’t tell your mother about our arrangement,” he says in a scolding tone. “Maxim tells me she wasn’t happy when they arrived at your house.”

“Hold on a second. Your men were at my house?”

“Apparently, she gave them a whole lot of trouble, actually. Which is quite frustrating.”

I drag myself from his grasp before we can start climbing the stairs. I feel absurd in my wedding dress, but the vodka’s loosening my tongue and giving me a little confidence.

“When did you expect me to tell my mother about me and you? When she was crying on the bathroom floor? Or when you dragged me here and shoved me in a wedding dress?”

“Sometime between those two things would’ve sufficed.” He presses his lips together and turns on me, looming like a skyscraper’s shadow. “Understand something, Karine. You are mine now. You are my wife. You are my queen. Which means you will play by my rules.”

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“That was exactly the deal.” He turns away. “Now come, let’s get you settled.”

I don’t like that word, settled, and reluctantly follow him up to the second floor. He leads me into a beautiful and large master bedroom with modern furniture and expensive-looking minimalist decorations. Everything is a shade of black and gray. Sitting at the end of the big bed are several boxes, each of them labeled with my name.

“You may unpack yourself, if you wish, or I can have Nikkita do it for you.”

His voice sounds distant as I drift to the boxes and bend down to peer inside.

One has all my shoes in it. Another has my pants, my dresses, my underwear. All my clothes, most of the stuff from my room, even a box with the majority of my toiletries, everything neatly packed and labeled.

Horror fills me. It’s like looking at crime scene photographs of my own murder.

“You moved me in?” I ask, looking up at him.

Valentin studies me from the doorway. “What did you think would happen?”

“I don’t know. I wanted some time to explain to my mother⁠—”

“Now you can see why my men had trouble.”

Shit. Mama. Valentin’s goons probably came into the house and traumatized her all over again. “I need to give her a call.”

“Not yet.” He advances on me.

I stand and face him, getting angry now. “She’s probably worried. I’m sure they scared the hell out of her.”

“Maxim explained the situation, since you were unable to do so yourself. Your mother is confused, but she knows you’re safe.”

“This is crazy. Let me call my mom.” I look around for my phone, but I don’t see it anywhere. I left it with Nikkita when I put on the wedding dress earlier, and who knows where it disappeared to.

“You live here now.” Valentin approaches, his eyes locked on mine. “You may speak to your mother shortly. First, we’ll get you settled.”

“Valentin, I’m serious. Let me call her.” I try to brush past him, but he catches my arm and pulls me against him. I let out a gasp of surprise at his firm grip, but he doesn’t hurt me.

“There’s no going home,” he says softly, almost gently. There’s something in his expression, like he almost feels bad about this part, but that doesn’t change the frustration filling my chest.

This is all wrong.

I should’ve told Mama before I left. I should’ve let her know what my plans were, but it happened too fast, and Valentin didn’t tell me that he was going to start moving all of my things here.

Now I’m his wife. I’m his wife, his actual wife, and while I did it for a good reason—to save myself from debt, to keep my mother protected from her own brother—it feels like too much.

Everything’s happening too fast.

“I just want to check on her,” I say, looking back at him, unable to take my eyes away. Valentin’s beautiful in a terrifying and intense kind of way, and it’s difficult to make myself hate him.

Even though I really should.

“She’s safe. I have men posted on her house as we speak, and once you’re settled here, I’ll arrange a visit.”

Reality hits me hard. I gave myself to this man—to this monster—and now he’s treating me like he owns me.

And in some ways, maybe he does.

Slowly, he puts a hand on my lower back. He tugs me closer, the soft chiffon of my dress rustling as he pulls my body to his. Valentin’s big and so warm, and I put my hands on his chest, thinking I can push myself back.

Instead, I leave them there. His heart’s pulsing hard under my fingers, and I dig them into his muscle as I tilt my chin up at him, wanting to feel only defiance.

Something else burns in my core.

He leans down, his lips pressing closer to my ear.

“If you want me to stop, malishka, say the word airplane. Do you understand?”

My eyes go wide. My pulse doubles, hammering down between my legs. “Are you giving me a safe word?”

“That’s right.” He dips his mouth and kisses my neck. “You’ll need one.”

I push back, hard.

But it’s too late.

I manage only a few inches of separation, enough to give me false hope as I turn to the open door, reaching for it⁠—

Valentin grabs me and drags me back.

“Please,” I say, and I know it’s the wrong word, I know it’s not the one that will stop this. Because I don’t want it to stop. “Valentin, please.”

“Oh, my little wife, I’ve been thinking about this since the moment you walked into my life and took off your clothes like the dirty fucking girl you are.”

I gasp, back arching. He reaches out with one arm and slams the door closed as he tangles his other fist in my hair. I groan, and he destroys any hint of complaint when he smashes his mouth to mine with a vicious, ugly kiss, almost as painful as it is intense and needy. I kiss him back until I get the chance to bite his lip, and he grunts with pain, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“You want to hurt me, wife? You want to struggle?”

“Let me go.”

“I don’t think I will.” He grabs the back of my dress and wrenches down the zipper. The delicate material tears and I whimper as the bust sags. I barely manage to hold it on with one hand pressed to my chest. “No, my beautiful wife, now that you’re mine, I plan on claiming you. Every single inch of you.”

He pulls my hair again and kisses me. This time, he shoves my hand aside and wrenches my dress forward, ripping it from my body. I’m bare for him now, just like the first time we met, and his eyes are just as starving as they were then. Almost as if he’s never tasted me before.

I moan into his kiss, shocked at how powerful he is and how easily he undresses me. I’m down to only a nude bra and a white lacy thong, and he lazily shoves me over to the bed, turning me around and bending me over with his powerful body. I feel his erection against my ass.

He grabs my hand with one strong fist and pulls hard. “That’s right, baby, look at you. Stripped bare for me on your wedding night.” He spanks my ass with his other hand. “That’s for thinking you could resist this.”

My mind goes blank. My brain softens into mush. All my fight fades away—if there was ever any fight to begin with—and I let myself drift into his hands. I’m his, entirely his, at least for right now.

It’s messed up. I know I should struggle. This shouldn’t feel so good, but I can’t pretend like I’m not attracted to him.

Big and dark. Terrifying and beautiful. Valentin’s a monster, a man draped in brutality and blood, and I want him all the same.

It makes me think I’m broken.

And maybe I want to be.

He wrenches down my panties and spanks my bare ass. He spanks it again, and again, until I’m aching and grinding up against him, whimpering and mewling, pathetic and tiny. He growls in my ear and teases my bare pussy with his fingers, keeping me pinned down to the bed.

“You’re so fucking wet right now,” he moans, clearly enjoying himself. I feel his hard dick against my leg, thick and long, bursting from his suit pants. “Look at you, filthy fucking girl. Begging for me to take you. What happened to the strong woman I married?”

“Fuck you, Valentin,” I gasp out as his fingers plunge in deep.

“There you are, show me a little spark.” I try to twist around, but he only laughs and keeps fucking me from behind with his fingers.

I don’t know how long I can take this. It feels so fucking good it’s breaking my mind into little pieces. I push back against him, simultaneously wanting to struggle—wanting the game of the struggle—but also needing him to have his way with my body. I need release more than anything I’ve ever craved before.

And he seems very willing to give me what I want.

He turns me around, dragging me further onto the bed, kneeling by my side. His fingers fuck me deep and my pussy makes lewd noises as he slides his other fingers into my mouth. I suck them, moaning as I do it.

“That’s right, baby, look at you, sucking on my fingers while I fuck you with my other hand. Listen to you moan as your husband takes you and uses your body. You’re my slut, aren’t you? You’re my filthy fucking wife, and your gorgeous, soaking wet pussy is all mine. It’s mine, baby, all fucking mine, and I’m going to use it however I want from now on.”

“Oh, fuck,” I gasp, back arching. He rubs my spit across my lips as the orgasm finally rips me into shreds. I come on his hand, brain exploding with bliss and domination as I picture him taking me, controlling me, and keeping me for as long as he wants.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers, kissing me gently, before burying his wet fingers in my mouth. I taste myself as I lick him clean. “Oh, god damn, do you know how beautiful you are?” He leans back and unbuttons his shirt. He tosses it aside as I stare at him, pushing back to put space between us. I’m in only my bra at this point, chest heaving up and down.

His slacks come off, followed by his boxer-briefs. I stare down at his cock, mouth watering at how thick and long he is.

“Come here,” he commands.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Don’t make me drag you over. If you do, I’m going to fuck your pretty lips until spit rolls down your lovely little chin. Do you want that, baby?”

I lick my lips. “No,” I say, heart racing, and still don’t move.

His eyes gleam with excitement. “Good choice.”

I whimper as he kneels beside me again, but this time, he takes my hair and guides my mouth down onto his cock. I taste his precum as my tongue rolls around his shaft, and he keeps going, driving into my mouth. He pulls back and fucks my lips, slow at first, before pushing deeper.

I pull back, gasping for air. “Too big,” I say and spit on his cock. I can tell he likes that. “Way too big.”

“Fuck, baby, look at you,” he says, pushing me back down, this time sliding himself deeper into my throat. I relax, taking as much of him as I can. “You look so sexy with my spitty dick in your mouth.”

I suck him faster and his powerful roars of pleasure send another wave of desire ringing through me. I’ve never met a man dripping with sex and sin like Valentin before, and I know this is only a taste, only the start of something I’m afraid I can’t begin to handle.

But the sick part of me wants to find out.

He pulls back and pins me to the bed. His other hand rips my bra off, revealing my breasts. I roll into him, feeling filthy, greedy, and dripping again, as his mouth sucks my nipples and the tip of his cock presses against my aching pussy.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he says, wrapping one hand around my throat. He tilts my chin up. His tip throbs against my pussy, thick and hard and hot. “Say it, Karine.”

“You’re just my husband.” I stare into his eyes. “That doesn’t mean you own me.”

He groans and tightens his grip. “I fucking love the defiance.”

“Good. You’re a bastard.”

“Say it again.”

“Bastard.” I close my eyes, gasping. “Sick bastard.”

He slides himself inside of me. It’s bliss and it’s pain, just like him. He glides in deep and back out again, and I’m shocked at how good it feels as he begins to fuck me faster.

“That’s right, you think you can resist me, you think you don’t need me, but look at you right now, getting fucked by your husband. Your needy, wet little pussy is so goddamn tight and gorgeous, and I’m going to fill you, baby, I’m going to fill you to the brim until you’re left gasping and begging for more.”

He takes me rough and there’s no mercy in him, and that’s exactly what I wanted. It drives me into ecstasy, where the only sounds are his voice, his hips against mine, and the soft creak of the bed as he thrusts deeper, deeper and deeper, until I can’t breathe anymore.

I come for him. I come so hard the world shrinks to a pinpoint. Stars burst in my vision and my back arches and my muscles contract as the world stops for one perfect instant.

Then he’s growling and fucking me, and I feel him finish deep between my legs. Warm and wet and sticky. He pulls back, breathing hard, and I think he’s done.

Instead, he takes his cock, grabs me by the hair, and stares into my eyes. “Suck, wife. Clean off your husband.”

I do as I’m told and lick him clean.

Then we’re both spent. I’m covered in a sheen of sweat. My wedding dress is a wreck on the floor and my underwear is missing. He strokes my hair and pulls me against him, wrapping muscular arms around my body, letting me sink into his powerful frame.

“That’s not the wedding night I expected,” I admit to him, cheeks flushed and brain still gooey from two intense orgasms.

“But it’s exactly what I wanted,” he says and breathes in my smell. I shiver and try to suppress a smile, but I can’t.

I like how obsessed he is with me. How he strangely wants me to hate him, but he also can’t stop touching me.

“You had it all planned out then?”

“That’s right. First, lock you down. Make you my wife. Then fuck you mindless. And now I tell you that this will be your room from now on.”

I roll to face him. “Excuse me?”

“We will live as husband and wife, which means you’re sharing my bed. Every single night.”

I let that sink in. Every single night. He and I, right here, just like this.

“Absolutely not.”

He looks amused as he lies back and lets out a low rumble of contentment.