THE GATEKEEPER

"I didn't think so, but yes. I enjoyed it with you. I...I was afraid and liked it at the same time."

"Sometimes fear makes things more pleasurable," he observes between tongue flicks.

"That...doesn't make sense."

"No? You don't think fear could sharpen your senses? Make the pleasure more potent and the release more powerful?"

My hips buck as if he were already fucking me. I already require release.

He doesn't touch me roughly, despite my begging. Instead, he trails his fingertips lightly over my skin, making gooseflesh rise in his wake. He traces around my belly button, up between my breasts. "Who makes you scream back home?" An air of danger shimmers around him, like he wants to kill every man I name.

When I moan, "No one," he relaxes.

"How do you think I should punish you for what you've done? For bugging the building? Giving our security information to the FBI?"

"Ohhh," I moan and arch, rocking my pelvis trying to find friction where I need it most.

"Hmm, moya malen'kaya Valkiriya?"

My legs swish under the covers like I'm swimming through an ocean of lust. I roll my head on the pillow. "I want you to punish me."

He chuckles. "Little warrior-it's a guarantee. I plan to punish you thoroughly. I just haven't decided how much will be pleasure and how much will be pain."

I work hard to focus on his face.

"Of course, there's always the possibility of withholding pleasure. Perhaps that would be the best angle with you. Hmm? Get you all riled up but never let you come? That seems a fitting punishment, doesn't it?" "No-oo," I moan. I attempt to sit up. "I hate that. Don't do that."

He pushes me back down with a finger on my sternum. "You're in no position to negotiate."

"Maykl..."

He meets my gaze. I rub my lips together. "You can-you should...do whatever you want with me. I want you to do everything. Everything you want."

Oh God. Why can't I keep my mouth shut? I can't believe the shameful things pouring from my lips.

He lowers his head and flicks his tongue in my belly button, trailing it lower, pushing the covers down to reveal my bare legs. I part them wide for him, begging for it.

"You want my tongue here, little warrior?" He touches the tip of his tongue to the apex of my labia, wiggling it a little to delve inside. Just a hint of what it would feel like if he made himself at home there. If he sought out and licked and tortured the throbbing little nubbin that resides just below.

"Y-yes," I moan. "I want you to lick me there." I sound hoarse. I roll my head from side to side. "Oh God, why am I saying these things?"

"Because you owe me all your truths," Maykl says. "And I deserve them."

He's right. Or at least, in this moment, I feel that he's right. That I owe him a complete baring of my soul. There's no other way to win his pardon but to offer up everything I have to give: my body. My vulnerability.

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I tricked him. Manipulated him. Betrayed his kindness.

Now I want him to take his due. Take from me everything he desires.

Maykl

Nikolai's advice to me changed everything.

Now, as I make Kira writhe beneath me, I know what's at stake. I know the bratva can't let her go. Not after her betrayal. So the only way to make this work is to make her want me.

Which means: I might get to keep her.

A chorus of bugles sound in my head at that thought.

The truth is that I haven't had that many women. The bratva cell in Moscow had prostitutes around. I gained quite a bit of experience with them in my teen years. They taught me how to pleasure a woman. Made sure I was well-versed in every variety of sexual positions, styles, and fantasies.

But I never had a woman who belonged to me. Of course, the bratva back in Russia forbade marriage or lasting relationships. No live-in girlfriends. Whores only is the rule.

It was the rule here with Ravil, too. At least until it wasn't. Until he knocked up a lawyer and then claimed her against her will.

Lucy loves him now, of course. And he's changed drastically now that baby Benjamin has come along. Most of the leadership in the Chicago bratva now have wives or girlfriends. I want one, too..

I don't know what stopped me from going out and dating an American.

Perhaps the fact that it's too complicated to explain to an ordinary woman who I am and what I do. That the tattoos that mark my skin signify terrible sins.

That I'm wrapped up with an organization I can never leave.

The only way out is in a box, as they say.

It's hard to believe I could coax a woman to stick around.

Perhaps that's why the fantasy of keeping Kira trapped in my apartment forever is so enticing. A woman who can't walk out. Who won't leave me. Who has no choice but to stay with a man who has no soul.

I absolutely love hearing her spill her thoughts and feelings, with no ability to filter.

The temptation to use those pills on her again and again is already there. What man doesn't want to know everything the woman he wants is thinking? But, of course, it would be so wrong to use them to win her heart.

But is that what I actually want? To win this woman's heart? A woman I can't even trust?

But yes. Somewhere between the sex the first night and finding her digging through my drawers downstairs, I've become muddled. I've lost all touch with right and wrong. Good and bad. Up from down. Perhaps I've been drugged too. Drugged by the scent of her skin, the touch of her silky moon-pale hair. The sound of her voice when she moans for more.

I want to give it all to her. I want to be her hero, her savior, and, yes, still her captor. Her jailor.