Blood of My Monster: Chapter 23

Violent shivers break out all over my skin in an unbearable chaos.

My first thought is to run.

There’s absolutely no use in considering any other options when all of them will lead to the half-naked enigma in front of me.

Kirill lounges leisurely on one of the wooden benches, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, hinting at the inked V line and teasing the toned muscles of his stomach.

His skin glistens with humidity, drawing more attention to his slick, defined abs. Despite the low orange light in the sauna, everything about him pops—his tattoos, his muscular superiority, and his monstrous strength.

Strands of his now longer hair fall haphazardly over his strong forehead, some of them camouflaging the inhumane color of his ice-cold eyes.

Dangerous, ethereal eyes.

There’s nothing idle about Kirill, even if his casual posture aims to convince me of such.

He’s just not someone to be taken lightly or easily. I’ve known him for months, and I still feel as extremely out of my depth in his company as I did the first day I met him.

Leaning back on his elbows, he tilts his head in my direction. “Are you going to stand there all day?”

“Where’s Maks?”

“Maksim has an errand to run.”

“I…will just come back after you’re done.”

“Nonsense. Come in.”

I fidget on my feet, not wanting to move either in his direction or outside. I’m stuck in the middle where my mind and body war for dominance, and neither comes out victorious.

“That’s an order, Sasha. Get in here.”

I purse my lips, even as the weight lifts off my chest when he takes away the choice. I like to think that I didn’t want this, but I have to do it.

It’s completely out of my control now.

And for some reason, that makes my movements lighter and more at ease.

After closing the door, I sit a step below Kirill, doing my best to avoid being in direct view of his destabilizing gaze.

I’m not sure if it’s the temperature or my overbearing company, but I start sweating profusely in the span of seconds. The bathrobe feels like a thick blanket, effectively suffocating my breathing. But I’m only wearing boxer briefs beneath it, so I can’t, under any circumstances, take it off. I was going to keep my chest bandages on, too, but I thought that would be uncomfortable. The boxer briefs are already a pain. Are people even supposed to wear underwear in saunas?

The air thickens with tension and silence, both trying to overpower each other for dominance. My skin turns into lava, but I don’t move, fearing the change of the status quo more than my being burned alive.

In a sense, my dramatic reaction to the current situation has to do with the fact that I’m trapped with him in a room, but I’d be naïve to consider that the only reason.

Kirill is a manipulative, emotionless monster with a skewed sense of morality, and yet I’ve never been so drawn to another person as I am to him.

It’s illogical, it’s madness, but I’m afraid I can’t deny it anymore.

“Isn’t this place too hot?” I ask in a half-assed attempt to murder the silence.

“Why do you speak English so well when you were born and raised in Russia?”

“I had a private American tutor.” I bite my lower lip.

Was that giving away too much? It’s a habit I developed in the army. Kirill was the only superior I considered worthy of respect, and, therefore, answering his questions has become natural. But, usually, I’d think carefully to avoid revealing anything about my background.

Maybe it’s the heat or the fact that I can feel his presence behind my back, but something caused me to have a serious lapse in judgment just now.

Maybe he didn’t notice or he’s too busy enjoying the sauna—

“So you were a rich young lady.”

The way he voices it means he’s suspected it all along. Shit. Shit.

“I…wasn’t.”

“Sure thing, Sasha. Let’s say a regular Russian speaks like nobility and has private tutors.”

“And do you know a lot of Russian nobility?” I try to sound casual, even though I’m freaking out. Was I not careful enough? I thought I got rid of my old mannerisms in the years prior to joining the army.

But then again, Kirill isn’t just anyone. He’s so observant, it’s scary.

“Yulia and her extended family are Russian nobility. Pretty sure you met her.”

“I…don’t act or speak like your mother.”

“No, but you used to and, no matter how much you try to camouflage it, the traits are still there. So why don’t you tell me your real last name?”

My body goes rigid and I think I’ll throw up from the nerves ripping through the bottom of my stomach. The first thing that comes to mind is running away, but that would be no different than giving Kirill the opening he’s been waiting for.

So I draw calming breaths and speak as confidently as possible. “You’re right, my family was wealthy, and we were doing well in business, but we went bankrupt around my sixteenth birthday and I had to join the army to survive.”

It’s only half a lie, but it’s believable enough that Kirill doesn’t probe.

The silence feels like a weight on my chest, though. Not only is it uncomfortable, but I can sense that Kirill is doing it on purpose to make me spill my deepest, darkest secrets.

“This is my first time in a place like this. How about you? Do you often come to the sauna?” I blurt.

“Hmm.” He sounds pensive, sleepy almost.

I glance back, only to find him leaning on both elbows, eyes closed, and legs nonchalantly parted, offering a glimpse of his cock through the opening of the towel.

And he’s…hard. Or getting there, at least.

This is one of those times when I should look away. One problem, though—I can’t bring myself to. In fact, my head tilts to the side so I can get a better view.

It doesn’t help that I’ve been on fire since the moment I walked in here. The view turns the air hotter, boiling even.

“Like what you see?”

The raspy quality of his voice catches me completely off guard, and I gulp, choking on my own breaths. “N-no.”

“You’re still ogling my cock, Sasha.”

I stare ahead, my cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. Damn it. Why did I have to be so obvious?

“You look uncomfortable.” His sinful voice carries in the air. “Are you perhaps hot and bothered?”

I hate how his voice is casual while I’m at the point of eruption. I hate how he can have this effect on me with the mere sound of his sinful voice.

There’s rustling behind me before he appears beside me like a demon slithering out of Hell. I go still, my breathing getting stuck at the back of my throat.

Something cold meets my overheated skin, and I carefully look to the side to find Kirill placing a glass of alcohol against my cheek.

But that’s not the problem. He’s close, like way too close. So close that I can follow the droplet of perspiration sliding over his collarbone, to his chest, and then down…

I catch myself before I touch the droplet’s resting place. I’m acting like a major pervert, and the worst part is, I can’t stop it.

Must be because the heat is boiling my brain.

Usually, I have better control on my libido. Like back in that village. I rejected him then and again two weeks ago.

But why did it feel like I was rejecting myself instead? And maybe, just maybe, all those rejections are taking their toll on me and made me reach this state where I’m teetering on the edge.

“Want a drink?” His voice lowers, so sinister in nature, I actually swallow.

I reach for the glass, but he keeps it out of reach.

“Never said it’d be for free.”

“I can go get my own drink.”

“You can, but you won’t, because I won’t let you.”

His free hand slides up the collar of my bathrobe, subtly brushing his fingers against the skin of my breastbone. I shudder, my lips parting as I attempt and fail to subdue my reaction.

Then, in one violent go, he shoves the bathrobe down. My breasts bounce from their confinement, and the belt opens, revealing my black boxer briefs.

I gasp as the reality of the situation comes into focus.

Not only am I half naked, but I’m also not moving or attempting to cover myself. Why am I not moving…?

Kirill slides his finger from the pulse point of my neck, down to my collarbone, and then over the slope of my breasts.

A strange sound echoes in the air, and I realize with utter horror that it came from me. I’ve never been touched by this level of blinding control before.

There’s no hesitation or slow exploration like I experienced with my high school boyfriend. And Kirill is definitely not a boy.

He’s a man who knows exactly what he’s doing and handles me with nonnegotiable firmness.

I’m paralyzed in the path of his madness. A part of me screams at me to stop this. There’s a reason I shouldn’t want this man, but I can’t access my brain to fathom what that reason is.

I’m lost in a fog I can’t escape. My heart and body attuned to the monster in the form of a man.

A monster I can’t resist.

His fingers wrap around my taut nipple, and he pinches. A zap rushes through me, and I gasp at the mixture of pleasure and pain.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He twists my nipple again, harder, with sure intent that makes me want to cry. “Tempting.” Another pinch, and more torture. “Irresistible.” He pulls this time, adding a maddening friction that starts in my nipples and ends right between my legs. “And the worst part is, you have no fucking clue you are. That’s why you keep flaunting yourself around so innocently, for anyone to see, but we can’t have that, now, can we? I’m the only one who knows how beautiful you are, aren’t I?”

He uses his hold on my breast to push me down so that I’m lying on the bench and the now open bathrobe.

I feel like I’ll faint, but that has less to do with the temperature and more to do with the man who’s hovering over me like a god. His knees are on either side of me and his face is much more handsome from this angle.

“Answer me, Solnyshko.”

A fire burns inside me at that word, and I clench my legs as I nod.

His eyes rage into a darker blue, ethereal in color, molten in appearance. His attention never leaves me as he pours half of the drink over my breasts. I shudder when the cold liquid touches my hot skin and drips down the sides.

“I’m the only one who’s seen these gorgeous tits, right?”

I’m lost for words because of one small fact. Did he just call me gorgeous?

“Does the silence mean some other bastard has seen your tits, Sasha?” His fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of my breasts.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Only me?”

“Only…you.” Sometimes, no, I always hate how he’s privy to parts of me I have never and would never disclose to anyone.

But at the same time, I like this sense of…intimacy. There’s something only the two of us know, and it will remain this way forever.

Kirill’s head falls between my breasts, and he sucks a nipple into his mouth. My hands grip the edges of the bench to stop myself from falling over.

His knees tighten against my sides, trapping me between his large, muscular thighs. I’m light-headed but also…strangely protected.

Still pinching and twisting my other nipple, he bites, sucks, and toys with the one in his hot, wicked mouth. The cycle repeats again and again until I think I’m going to faint from the overwhelming sensations.

“You taste like an aphrodisiac,” he says around my nipple, then his tongue chases the alcohol down to my stomach.

I try to clench my legs, but Kirill effortlessly parts them and pulls down my boxer briefs, then throws them aside.

The first thought on my mind is to hide, but I can’t look away from the lust on his face. Or the way his jaw clenches upon seeing me naked.

This man who usually feels so far away is the closest he’s ever been, and he wants me. Not anyone else but me.

That knowledge makes the imaginary knot in my throat disappear. But just when I’m starting to relax, or at least, give into this madness, Kirill pours the rest of the drink over my pussy.

I hiss due to the difference in temperature, but it turns into a gasp when he throws my legs over his shoulders and dives at my core.

He doesn’t nibble or suck, he straight out thrusts his tongue inside me.

My whole body recoils, and I’d fall off the bench if it weren’t for his hold on me. Kirill tongue-fucks me, tearing me apart with each in and out.

The buildup startles me. I couldn’t keep up even if I wanted to, and he doesn’t give me any time to catch my breath.

His fingers dig into my thighs as he picks up the pace. My eyes go blurry, and I moan as I fall apart on his tongue. My legs shake, and moisture streams down my cheek, but I scream and thrust my hips.

Kirill doesn’t stop with my orgasm. He doesn’t take it slow, either. In fact, he licks every drop of alcohol off my folds and my clit. He bites my inner thighs and leaves marks that I can already feel forming.

The buildup doesn’t prepare me for what’s coming. This time, I’m hit by a strong wave out of nowhere, and I think I’m going to faint.

It’s an eruption.

It’s complete and utter…madness.

Kirill’s head peeks from between my legs and he licks my glistening arousal off his lips.

I don’t know why I think he’s never been as beautiful as he is right now. All tattooed and tall and handsome.

He’s a monster, too, but maybe monsters do it better than others.

“Why…are you crying?” he asks with a note of darkness.

I dab at my cheek, and that’s when I realize the moisture I felt wasn’t sweat, but actually tears.

“I…don’t know.”

“Do you hate this?”

“It’s not that I hate it…” It’s more that I love it too much.

But Kirill doesn’t wait to listen to the second part. He’s back between my legs, his expert tongue fucking me into oblivion.

He does it over and over until I can’t take it anymore.

Until I actually do faint.