Theirs To Cherish: Quintessence The Collection II, page 22
“Not yet,” Sawyer warned as he headed out of the office, not even giving him a backwards glance.
Was this a parallel universe?
He thought about Jane, tried to picture her in his mind’s eye but realized that he couldn’t, in all honesty, even do that. He thought she had brown hair, but it could easily have been blonde.
Then, he shrugged thoughts of his PA aside and turned his focus back to the schedule. Better that than the bizarre knowledge that Sascha thought the Bratva was sexy.
They were due in Moscow in just under eighteen days. In that time, they had to close the house up, have their things packed for not only Russia but their extended stay in Veronia, too. Knowing that Devon did hate to fly, he’d tried to narrow things down for him by flying straight to Moscow, then onto Madela in Veronia immediately afterward.
That presented a logistical problem considering there were six adults and a small boy to pack up. Truth was, he’d been enjoying making the arrangements. Sascha was predictably antsy about leaving these issues in the hands of others. And, as they led relatively sedate lives, their security wasn’t as rigid as it could have been if they’d been in the public eye more.
Considering Kurt’s sudden swell of fame, guards or extra security might become a necessity in the future. He’d made his name as the reclusive German author, however, so Andrei didn’t think that was something Kurt was about to change, but he’d discuss the situation with his grandfather before he left for Veronia.
If anyone knew which company was the best to hire, it was Vasily.
As he checked into their flights, he stared at Sascha’s name on the screen.
Was she really jealous?
Where had that even come from?
He wasn’t sure, and taking into account this sudden need to be dominated, it heralded several questions in a conversation he’d prefer to have sooner rather than later.
Fourteen
When the bedroom door closed behind him, Sascha cocked a brow at Andrei. “This isn’t your room.”
He cocked a brow right back at her. “I know it isn’t.”
She snorted. “Since when do you play musical bedrooms?”
“Since tonight.” He grinned at her. “I thought we’d play tonight.”
“Play what?” His grin deepened, and she jerked back in surprise. “He told you,” she said on a whisper.
“Don’t be mad,” Andrei murmured, stepping deeper into Kurt’s bedroom as he held up his hands in entreaty. “Not at him or us.”
“I don’t know if I’m mad or just disappointed.”
He grimaced. “I’m not sure which is worse.”
“Good.” She blew out a breath as she folded her arms across her chest. “What did he tell you?”
He shrugged, aware that he needed to be careful here—Sean hadn’t technically told him anything, after all. “I’ve learned that you like to play games.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “You’re serious? That’s what he said?” At his nod, she growled, “Yes, Andrei, I love playing Jenga in bed.”
When he just laughed, she glowered back at him, and he murmured, “So angry, Sascha. Why? Is it based in embarrassment or fear?”
That had her stiffening, in more ways than one—he saw her nipples peak to attention through the silk chemise she’d worn to bed. A good portent, he thought, of things to come.
“How would you like it if I talked about what we did with Sean?”
Again, he shrugged, and sincerely, he told her, “If I thought whatever you shared would enhance my pleasure, I wouldn’t mind.”
“And that’s why he told you?” she demanded, but her voice was squeaky. “To enhance my pleasure?”
He grimaced at the mocking bite to the words. “Yes.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because Sean isn’t the only one who likes to play games.”
“Stop calling it that,” she snapped. “We didn’t play Monopoly, Andrei. Nor did he lock me up in his dungeon.” She huffed. “Unless, let me guess, you’re all so into playing games that you have one locked up tight somewhere in the house.”
“We thought about it for a while,” he admitted, satisfied as her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “Not a dungeon, of course. More like a playroom.”
“What?” she outright yelled this time. “When?”
“With the third woman we shared.” He wafted a hand, not wanting to get into that. “Remember, most of our partners viewed us as an avenue for sexual exploration. Did you think we wouldn’t use them back?”
“N-No,” she stuttered, but she dropped her gaze to his mouth as she did. Why, he wasn’t sure. “But, I mean, I didn’t think. . . .”
“You didn’t know. Why would you? We don’t talk about it.”
“B-But, who?”
“Sean, Sawyer, myself. Kurt isn’t interested. He has his own quirks, of course. He did enjoy watching us at work. Devon, not so much.”
Her mouth rounded into the most perfect, most beautiful O. “N-No,” she agreed.
He pursed his lips. “If you only want that with Sean. …” He let the words drift off and was satisfied when she scampered out from between the sheets. Her silk chemise pulled taut against her slimmer body, and he realized then that he missed her curves.
She hadn’t been looking after herself, he noticed, and he knew that was about to become a problem.
“No!” she repeated, her hands darting forward, so she could tuck them between his own. “I-I, well, I guess it came as a surprise that Sean would share something like that, but I do want it.” She swallowed. “I think I need it.”
“Why? You didn’t before.” He cocked a brow at her. “You were content with our busy sex lives two months ago.”
“Yeah.” She wriggled, the muscles in her thighs suddenly straining. “But, I liked it when you—”
He let her pause for an indeterminate length of time, then prompted, “When I, what?” He reached up to cup her cheek a second, then he trailed the backs of his fingers down the side of her jaw. When he cupped her throat, she made a mewling noise that startled him into a quirking a brow at her. “When I, what?” he asked again, his thumb pressing down against the soft flesh in his grip.
“This,” she rasped, arousal making her words husky. “I loved this. I loved when you got rough with me. I loved being spanked by Sawyer, or when Devon would pin me to the bed.” She shuddered, and with her free hand, cupped his wrist. “I loved you tying me down and fucking me. It’s been growing. This need. These urges. And now? Now, I don’t want to think. I just want to feel. I want to feel like me again. Sexy and satisfied. I need you to guide me in that.”
His eyes went to half-mast at that as he processed her words. “I said to Sawyer this morning that you’d gone through a renaissance. I don’t want you to regret it, Sascha.”
She blinked up at him with such trust on her face, he felt his very heart quiver in his chest. “I wouldn’t, Andrei. Anything I don’t like we don’t have to do again. And you’re right. This has been a learning curve for me. It’s been. …” She bit her lip. “We didn’t have it easy at the start. What with the situation with the Jacobies. But, our life has been basically content. I feel like this is the first stumbling block. Almost like this has torn the blindfold from my eyes and has revealed that I am, actually, an adult.”
“You were before, katyonok.”
“I know, but this time I feel differently.” She shrugged. “I just . . . I need something different. Maybe I’m opening the door to something that I’ll regret, but we’re always changing, aren’t we? Growing. I’d prefer for us to grow together than to grow apart.”
“Of course, but what if we do something you don’t like? Something you don’t expect?”
“I won’t hold it against you,” she reasoned. “Why would I? I want this. More than I realized.” She reached up, and he saw there was a bruise on her shoulder. She lowered the strap and the silk gaped, revealing her tits, but that hadn’t been her intent. “Sean bit me. You can’t. …” Sascha shook her head as her fingers trailed over the mark. “I didn’t realize until recently how badly it was affecting me not being known as yours, and you not being known as mine. I like this. I feel claimed.”
He frowned. “But you are ours.”
“Jane doesn’t know that,” she whispered. “Jennifer Houghton, the female lead in Kurt’s movie, she doesn’t know that. Nobody does. Dreyford, the male lead, was coming onto me in front of Kurt because he doesn’t realize I’m somebody’s. This,” she whispered, rubbing the bitemark. “Makes me feel claimed.”
He’d never realized how the lack of a legal, open, and binding acknowledgment affected her. But, of course, he knew and understood the strain of having to be careful about discussing what they were to one another. It was irritating as fuck, especially as she was simply theirs in all their eyes.
Did she need a ring?
Would that make her feel better?
Or was her traditional upbringing making waves with this very non-traditional relationship she was in?
He reached over and touched the mark. “You like that?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t it hurt?”
“It felt good. Right.” She licked her lips. “And when I feel. . . .” Sascha broke off, “weird, then I touch it and I feel better.”
He scowled at that. The bite mark wasn’t a damn talisman.
His major concern was their leading her into something she couldn’t handle. Something she was only broaching now because so many things were up in the air for her. She wasn’t content with being in London, wanted to move to the country, maybe? And now this?
Was it too much?
Would exploring this new side of her be exploiting her?
Then, she reached up and tugged at the other strap of her chemise. When the silk pooled at her waist, he whispered, “You’ve lost weight.”
“I know.”
“This. . . .” He licked his lips. “I’m not like Sean.”
“I never thought you were.”
But he shook his head. “Sean leaves it in the bedroom. I can’t.”
She reached over and grabbed his hand. “Whatever you need.”
“No. You don’t understand.” He forced himself to get the words out because, once he opened Pandora’s box, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to close it. “You’re playing at the moment. That’s why I’ve been using that verb. But I don’t want to play. If I open myself to this, I’ll want it all the time.”
“That means you’ve needed it since we’ve been together.” Her tone was flat, then he saw the heat in her eyes. “Damn you, Andrei. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me I wasn’t pleasing you?”
He let out a growl. “Because you were pleasing me. I’ve never been so sexually satisfied in all my life, Sascha,” he gritted out, then, he was amused because she preened at that, her chin soaring high with delight at his words.
“If you need this, then I need it, too,” she murmured, scurrying closer to him. With her hair in a topknot and the silk settling around her hips after she’d moved, he realized how young she looked. Yes, there were shadows under her eyes, and yes, she did have some tiny frown lines, but she looked like an angel sitting there with curls tumbling around her throat.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he whispered, and his tongue felt thick in his mouth.
“I do. I’ve read enough to know that I like that. Just . . . break me in softly. Let me learn first what you want. What we need.”
His cock had been at half-mast throughout this conversation, but now? It stiffened fully and to the point of pain.
“I’ll punish you for disobeying,” he whispered, reaching over again to trace the bitemark. “If I tell you to remember to eat. . .”–because she’d definitely been skipping meals to have lost so much so fast–“I’ll expect you to obey.”
That had her eyes flaring wide. “You’d punish me for that?”
“For anything I thought was for your own good that you saw fit to ignore.”
He saw her pupils turn into pinpricks and knew he had her. A thought that had him blowing out a rough breath.
Blyad, was he ready for this?
It had been a long time since he’d explored this side of himself. And only today, after Sawyer’s bull-in-a-china shop conversation, did he realize he’d enjoy opening himself up to Sascha if she was ready for that.
“Let’s just take it slowly,” he whispered, relieved when she nodded, seemingly aware that this was a first step for him, too, in many ways.
“Okay,” she replied, then moaned as he dropped a hand to her breast.
“Do you like pain, katyonok?” He did as he’d never dreamed of doing, maneuvered her nipple between his fingers and pinched down hard. The sharp yelp she released had him withholding a groan, especially when her cheeks flushed and she quickly blew out a breath of air.
“I-I don’t know.”
“How did that make you feel?”
She swallowed, her eyes holding his for endless seconds, as he reached over and treated the other to the same treatment. He knew she liked rough sex. That he’d picked up on over the years. But to be dominated was a different matter entirely.
As he pinched her, she released a sharp breath and whispered, “Centered.”
The answer wasn’t one he’d expected.
It wasn’t one he altogether liked hearing, either.
“Take off the night dress,” he murmured.
“Kurt might be back soon.”
“He’s working, and if he caught the tail end of this, you know he’d enjoy the show.”
Her lips curved in amusement, but she scampered off the bed and removed the chemise. As she did, his gaze swiftly took in the too prominent collarbones, the hip bones that had never been fully visible before. But the swells of her breasts were just as luscious as ever, and her waist was so small, he knew he could span it with his fingers.
She’d always been ripe, but now? Not so much.
If she’d wanted to lose weight, that was one thing. But depression had inspired this, making it another matter entirely.
“When I ask you to do something, you do it. Do you understand?” At her nod, he nodded back. “Kneel on the floor,” he told her, watching with tender amusement as she did as bid. He was surprised though, because Sawyer was right. Sexually, she was a brat. A trait she was only just starting to reveal.
A part of him wondered if different aspects of her nature would reveal themselves with each of her partners, but at that moment, he didn’t want to think about that. Was just content to think of the here and now.
“Spread your legs, let me see that pretty pussy.”
Her mouth opened on a sigh as she complied.
“Are you eating breakfast?”
She blinked in bewilderment. “Sometimes.”
“Every day?”
Shaking her head, she whispered, “No.”
“Touch your clit,” he directed next, watching as her delicate fingers traced the tender nubbin. She was sensitive there, like most women, he supposed, but she touched herself roughly, in a way that should have indicated the bite of discomfort wasn’t something she was alien to.
He watched her fingers, studied the way the flush rose to her throat as she aroused herself, then he murmured, “I want you to eat breakfast. Every day.”
“I’m not always hungry,” she said on a moan.
“Stop touching yourself,” he directed, and when she was slow to move her hand away, he bent down, grabbed her hand, curved it around her knee, and then slapped her inner thigh. She yelped, and he ignored it. “I told you to stop touching yourself.”
“O-Okay,” she whispered breathily.
“I also told you I want you to eat breakfast.” He squatted in front of her and trailed his hand over the jutting hipbone then up to her collarbone. “You’ve lost too much weight.”
“I thought you’d like that,” she said on a pout, and he slapped her inner thigh again. Her hiss had him smirking.
“What made you think such crazy thoughts? When have we never loved your body?”
She blinked at that. “Men always like thin women.”
“Well, the five men in this house don’t follow that pattern, do they?” He cupped the swell of her tit. “We like you healthy.”
“I am healthy.”
“This isn’t healthy,” he retorted. “If I look at your back, will I see your ribs?”
“It’s not a bad thing if you do,” she argued.
“It is if you’re starving yourself. Some bodies are naturally that way. Some aren’t. You’re not eating, Sascha. I’ve seen the small portions you have for dinner.”
“Fuck,” she growled. “I can’t win. Sawyer says I eat too much, and you’re saying I eat too little.”
“Since when did he say that?” He knew for a fact those words would never have spilled from his brother’s lips. Sawyer was as enamored with Sascha’s curves as the rest of them.
She pursed her lips. “He never likes it when I bake.”
“Yeah. Because he’s a health nut. He’s terrified you’re going—” He bit off a curse.
“Terrified I’m going to what?” She reached over to grab his hand. A frown puckering her brow, she asked, “What, Andrei?”
“He wants you healthy,” was all he said. “You should talk to him about matters such as this, but you should get it out of your head that Sawyer is unhappy with your form. All he cares about is your wellbeing. And cookies to him. …” He winced, suddenly unable to stop himself from explaining, “Do you know how many people in his family have diabetes?”
Sascha reared back at that. “No.”
“All of them.” He pursed his lips.
“Hamish and Cinta don’t. . . .”
“They do. As did Sheila, his sister. His cousins, his aunts, and his uncles.” He shrugged. “Bad diets. They were poor, didn’t have much money, so they made the wrong choices. You’ve seen the crap Cinta eats.”
“She eats nothing but sugar,” Sascha said, her mouth gaping.
“Exactly. Even though she’s diabetic.” He shrugged. “She’s like my grandfather. Vasily says something will kill him eventually, so why deny himself his cigars? She feels the same with sweets.”
