17 Chapter 17

The bed dipped where he was kneeling on it, his knee pressing against her thigh. He leaned back and swept her with an icy look that would have been utter contempt if it weren't for the lust evident within. She sucked in a quick breath and bit back a whimper when he reached for the belt on her coat.

His fingers made quick work of the knot and the two halves of the light overcoat fell to the side. She sucked a breath in, pulling her stomach concave as his long, skilled fingers lightly wrapped around her ribcage and caressed her first up and then down. He ran his hands up her sides, his fingers exploring every curve, every dip, every soft part of her while she lay helpless underneath him. He brought his hands closer together, touching his thumbs just beneath her breasts and them running his hands down her body toward her hips, sweeping each part of her stomach as though remembering what she felt like. Tingles ran all through her torso wherever the warmth of his hands touched. She tried her hardest to supress the tiny shivers he drew from her, but it felt so good she couldn't lay completely still.

After his frightening words, his declaration of making her pay, Tasha hadn't expected such a gentle touch. She didn't expect it to last long. She could still feel the rage simmering beneath the light touch and lustful gaze. She knew that David would not let her go with just a few tender caresses.

He sat further back and frowned down at her. "Need to touch you," he growled.

He wasn't satisfied with touching her body through the layers of her clothes, light though they were. Tasha swallowed and watched as he turned from her to pull something from his coat. This was it. He was going to take her body and she wouldn't have a choice. He'd hunted her across the globe and now he intended to extract payment for the debt he perceived she now owed to him. She had run, but failed to hide herself well enough. Her shadowy protector hadn't shown up in time to protect her from the killer she'd unintentionally married.

Tasha whimpered in terror when David turned back to the bed, a knife in hand. He didn't bother to sooth or calm her. To his credit, he didn't prolong her fright either. He began to cut away the coat, pulling the blade through the fabric, parting the sleeves as easily as though they were butter. She tilted her head as far back from the flashing metal as she could get and watched with wary astonishment.

Finally, after he jerked the shreds of her coat from beneath her body and tossed it off the bed, Tasha cried out, half hysterical at the barbaric lengths he was going to, "Please, David, stop! Why won't you just take the handcuffs off? I can undress for you properly. You don't need to do this!"

"No," he grunted and continued, cutting a jagged path through her black leotard from neck to crotch.

Tasha tried to remain still as he slid the knife through the fabric but she couldn't help but jerk in panic as he ripped and tore the material from her body, baring her to the cool evening air. The moment her small, curvy breasts were exposed, the nipples peaked in reaction to both cold and fear. He twisted, the muscles along the side of his body rippling in the lighting of the bedroom and slammed the knife down on the nightstand before turning back to Tasha, his black eyes roving over her naked upper body with grim pleasure.

He moved to stand next to the bed and hooked his fingers in the waistband of her thin dance tights. She moaned in distress and shook her head, pleading without words. In her bleakest moments, when she'd been on the run, she had remembered the better times with her husband. The tender, loving moments, in his bed, in his embrace. But in her darkest moments, all of her imaginings of David had ended in a gunshot in a dark alley somewhere, cold nothingness blazing from his empty gaze. Now she was caught somewhere in between. She was the property of a man, a monster, who knew how to love her properly, but chose to punish her instead.

He dragged both the pink tights and her panties down her thighs, past her calves and off her feet. She now lay completely naked, utterly at his mercy. The look on his face was beyond anything she'd seen before, it went past possessive. It was cold, dark and unrelenting. Like he would commit murder for her. Then his eyes dropped to the most vulnerable part of her and unrestrained rage darkened his features like a flash of lightening.

"What the fuck!" he exploded in a deep growl.

Tasha jumped, the cuffs rattling ominously against the headboard. She tried scooting backwards to escape the intense heat of his sudden wrath, but David grabbed her thighs with such sudden brutality that she cried out. His fingers dug into the tender flesh as he pried her legs apart and leaned forward to look at her exposed pussy. He released one of her thighs and wedged his hips in between her spread legs to keep them open. He ran his knuckles down the bare lips of her labia, up and down, back and forth. He did this for several seconds before opening his clenched fingers to feel the softness against the sensitive pads of his fingertips. Finally, he wrenched his gaze away from her soft folds, lifting coal black, accusing eyes to hers. Scorching her with the intense heat of a man a hairsbreadth away from losing his mind.

Tasha barely dared breath. Yet, she could feel her body begin to respond to the hypnotic touch of his hand gliding against her aching flesh. She sighed and bit her lip, trying to concentrate on the anger emanating from his towering form and not the need to squirm against the too-light touch of his fingertips. She almost wanted to buck her hips a little closer, bury them into her dampening heat just a little bit. It had been so long since she'd known the delicious touch of her husband.

"Shaved?" he asked suddenly, his voice a hoarse demand.

Her eyes flew up to meet his and she shook her head. "Waxed," she whispered, frowning a little. Why did he care so much? When they were together, in the past, he hadn't been interested in her personal grooming habits. She'd only shaved along her bikini line back then.

His thick, dark eyebrows crashed together in anger. Okay apparently now he cared. "How? Did you do it yourself?" he demanded through gritted teeth, his fingers still running agonizingly lightly across her delicate folds.

She shook her head, panting a little. "A salon!"

His fingers stiffened against her flesh, dipping between her folds. Tasha cried out, arching her back into the bed as lovely, tingling sensations shot through her. She didn't want to feel this way. Not under the hands of the man she'd just spent two long, lonely years fleeing. But they had been lonely years and she had missed the physical intimacy David had been so good at giving her.

The glare he was giving her heated her, licking at her sensitive skin, making her wonder what she could possibly have done wrong but it also made her feel sort of good. Deep in her stomach, like golden, shimmering liquid heat. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

"You allowed another to touch you," he snarled, his thumb digging into her thigh where he was holding her leg open, "intimately. And you waxed for a reason, Natasha. Women don't just groom for their own pleasure. Who did you wax this pussy for? Who did you show my woman to? Did you stray, my wife, did you act the slut for another?"

Tasha's mouth fell open. Yes, David had always been possessive as long as she'd known him. But this this uncontrolled rage this was something new. "There was no one," she whimpered, flexing her thighs, trying to close them against the dual onslaught of his harsh words and seductive touch. He refused to allow her retreat, gliding his fingers even further through the wetness. "Please, David. I simply went with Regan from work."

He stiffened against her, his dark eyes searching hers for truth. Finally, nostrils flaring, he lifted his fingers from her dripping, heated pussy to his lips. Her own mouth opened at the same time as his, the breath froze in her throat as he slipped his strong fingers into his mouth, the veins on the back of his hands flexing as he tasted her. Oh god, it was so sinfully sexy, watching her husband lick his fingers after touching her so intimately. She could feel the fire of a blush racing beneath her pale cheeks, but could not bring herself to look away as he enjoyed her taste.

"Fuck, Natasha. You taste like heaven," he groaned, shaking his head and standing beside the bed, glaring down at her. She closed her legs and watched warily as he thrust an agitated hand through his hair. Then, as she warily watched him, scorching rage came brutally under control and ice cold once more reigned. "But I do not believe you."

"David!" she yelped as he turned on his heel and strode from the room, leaving her naked and chained to the bed.