I’d never felt safer with a man—or cheaper. How could he be so tender, so praising? Then so cruel? Everything with him was an extreme. The pleasure was extreme.

As was my love life. Between my two lovers, I’d gone from “I plan to murder you at my earliest convenience” to “I own you.”

The latter of which aroused me insanely. Why? Why? Why?

I sensed, with a sick feeling in my chest, that Sevastyan was the only man who could make me feel this passion and intensity. In my limited time with him, maybe I should ignore his dickish comments and explore my sexuality? Experience as much of his heart-stopping eroticism as I could?

To last a lifetime.

After washing off, I returned. He was on the bed, gloriously naked, with a shiny metal contraption in his hands. “You touched yourself against my command, and you came without permission.”

I swallowed. “What is that?”

“Your descent into BDSM.”

I backed up a step. “You’re going to hurt me.”

That angered him. “I am not a man who would ever hurt a woman.” “Then what is that?”

He rose, stalking closer. “It’s a chastity belt. To keep you from coming.”

“Are you joking?” How archaic! “You just had that lying around?”

“Hardly. I couldn’t have cared less if a partner got off or not. Plus, I never would’ve been around one long enough for it to matter.”

The glimmering metal captivated my eyes. “Where did you get it?” And why couldn’t I look away? Intrigante. So intriguing.

“From the maker. A rush order.”

“Why me?”

“Because I own your body now. I bought it, and I’m owed it for what you did. I want control over it.”

My back met the wall. “You mean control over my sexuality.”

He planted a hand above my head, leaning in. “Yes.” I was about to tell him where he could shove that belt, when he said, “It’s only fair since you control me to this degree.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You make me hard at a glance and have me dripping pre-cum like a randy lad, though I never did before. You do this to me. Minutes ago, I shot down your throat till my eyes rolled back in my head, and yet . . .” He jerked his chin at his rebounding erection. “Why would I not want to control you in turn?”

My lips parted at his admission. I was affecting him like this. Me. A man of his experience, who’d known so many women all over the world, found something special in me.

Just as I did him.

“I’m going to put this on you, and you’re going to like it.” The wicked promise in his eyes made my heart race with excitement. He sounded so confident, as if he knew something about me—something that I didn’t.

After a hasty risk/reward assessment, I decided to try it for a bit. I could always take it off.

“Spread for me, dushen’ka,” he said, reading me so well.

As I stared up at his face, I found myself spreading my legs.

The strap he ran between my thighs was wider in the front, tapering to a G-string in the back. Cushioned on the inside with inflexible metal on the outside, the belt fitted over my clit, leaving part of my lips exposed, then slipped between my cheeks. Both ends of the strap fastened into a circle of metal around my waist. I was surprised by how tight it was, by how seamlessly it fit me.

He jostled the belt to make sure I couldn’t get out of it. Before I could protest, he’d secured a small padlock on the side.

“You devil, you didn’t tell me it’d lock!”

“And I keep the key.” He looped a thin leather lead around his neck, a key dangling over his chest.

I sucked in a breath, rocked by how sexy I found the lock and key. It was like an erotic locket for two that intertwined when put together.

Suddenly I needed to come like crazy. With access to my clit barred, all my thoughts instantly focused on that area of my body.

“I own every one of your orgasms, Katya. I’ll bestow them upon you as I please.” He returned to the bed, to my bed, then stretched out beneath the duvet.

“You’re sleeping the night with me?”

Without opening his eyes, he said, “That is non-negotiable.”

“I’m supposed to keep this on till morning?”

“If you want me to remove it, I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to convince me.” With a laugh, he said, “Sleep well.”

CHAPTER 17

Once his breaths grew deep and even—insomnia, my ass—I cupped my palms over the front of the belt and rocked, desperate for friction. I felt only a slight increase in pressure, not nearly enough to come.

Heat emanated from his body, his scent intoxicating me. And that leather lead around his neck got me so horny, my pussy quivered in its cage. This—is—agony! I turned over on my front, grinding the mattress, stifling a moan.

When I finally passed out in frustrated exhaustion, sizzling dreams of the Russian tormented me even more. I kept seeing the lost look in his eyes when he’d licked me for the first time. Kept hearing his husky words of praise when I’d taken his length so deep.

I woke after dawn with my clit throbbing, my nipples like arrow-points against the sheet. And a bounty of a man was right beside me. Nearly six and a half feet of muscle and power and latent sexuality.

Over the night, he’d turned on his front, drawing a knee up. Biting my bottom lip, I tugged the duvet off him. As predicted, I was growing used to the scars on his back, but not the rest of him. I moaned at the sight of his ass, those rigid muscles with sharp indentations on the sides. He lay so his shaft pointed back. His heavy testicles looked warm and relaxed.