Lies of My Monster: Chapter 11

There are times in life when everything is uncertain.

Your beliefs.

Your purpose.

Your whole being.

However, in the middle of the blurry ambiguity stands something real. And that’s the only thing I currently believe in.

The one person because of whom I found another goal. The one person who motivates me to get out of bed in the morning and work harder on myself.

Even if he ignores me most of the time and only pays me stilted attention.

So I’m glad I let my instincts guide me and followed him after he ordered me to stay put.

When I made this decision, it wasn’t only because I insisted on being by his side, or that I’m still desperately trying to prove my loyalty. I truly had a horrible feeling the moment his car left the premises.

Karina came out of her room and celebrated the prospect of the two of us spending time together, but that wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t bother with an excuse as I fetched my rifle, jumped into the car, and started driving.

I didn’t pay Maksim any attention when he banged on the window and told me to at least take him along. I had only one concern at the time—get to Kirill.

Turns out, it was a legitimate concern, because the moment I arrived at the site, it was a full-on war, and he was about to get killed.

It didn’t take us long to find Yuri since he was already following the GPS to locate Kirill. The car was shot a few times, but it remained functional.

Instead of leaving immediately, Kirill stayed put until he ensured the rest of the men were also retreating. Then we heard from Viktor that he’d sent the Mexicans back and told their leader, Juan’s right-hand man, that Kirill would get in touch about what to do next.

The weirdest thing about the hit is that after Kirill was cornered and I got there in time, it was like the attackers got an order to retreat. They completely disappeared, taking their dead and injured along.

One of our men died, and a few were wounded, but none of them are in a critical condition.

Despite my attempts, Kirill refused to get his head wound looked at because the other men were his priority.

He only complied after both Anna and Karina got involved and basically forced the doctor to treat him.

After he’s gotten everyone settled in the clinic and has given instructions to Viktor about the site’s cleanup, he starts to leave the annex, then stops.

“You’re coming with me, Aleksander.”

My spine jerks, but it’s not accompanied with the pain I felt whenever he called me by my fake last name. Aleksander is better.

Besides, he did call me Sasha earlier. He touched me, wiped my tears, and brought me down from the overwhelming fear I had when I saw a gun being pointed at his head.

I had gruesome flashbacks from when he was on the verge of death while surrounded by blood and snow in Russia. For a second, I thought I’d lost him for good this time.

All my fears and nightmares played in front of my eyes, and all I could think about was saving him.

Even after the assailant was out of the picture, all I could see was the blood trailing down his temples and cheeks, and I nearly lost it. That high of emotions would’ve swept me over if he hadn’t been there to keep me upright.

Maksim winces as Kirill turns and leaves. I mouth, “What?”

“You disobeyed his order, idiot,” he hisses. “RIP.”

Yuri looks at me in a weird blank way before he offers a sympathizing tap on the shoulder.

Oh, shit. I completely forgot about that.

My steps are heavy as I follow Kirill out of the annex and try to keep up as he strides in the direction of the main house.

I jog to his side and clear my throat. “About earlier, I—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But—”

“Not another word.” He throws me a chilling side-eye. “I mean it.”

My lips clamp shut, but I walk the rest of the way in complete silence. My mind, however, is in overdrive.

How can I convince him to completely forget about what happened without endangering the fragile peace we re-found?

Or, at least, I did. I don’t know how he feels about the recent events or if he feels anything at all.

If it’s the latter, I would seriously be heartbroken—more than I already am.

Once he walks inside his room, I follow and I try again, “Look at it this way, if I hadn’t come, you’d probably be dead—”

One moment I’m standing there speaking, and the next, the breath is knocked out of my lungs when strong fingers wrap around my throat and slam me against the nearest wall.

Kirill’s face is inches from mine. The bandage wrapped around his head takes nothing away from the pure fire that devours me in seconds.

It’s been a long time since he’s been this close, and I find it hard to breathe. That has less to do with his grip on my neck and more to do with the fact that I’m inhaling him and his addictive scent with each intake of air.

“I told you to shut the fuck up, Sasha.” His nostrils flare as tension rises from his shoulders to the tendons of his neck, and he clenches his jaw.

I swallow, and he must feel it against his fingers that are holding me in place.

“Did I or did I not ask you to stay put?”

“You did, but—”

“It’s a yes or no question. Did I or did I not tell you to stay fucking put?”

“You did, but I had a bad feeling and had to follow. Besides, I saved you, okay? If I hadn’t been there, you would’ve died!”

He doesn’t like that. Not one bit. His hand tightens around my throat further. “And if there had been anyone else there, they would’ve easily shot you.”

“But there wasn’t. It ended well.”

“After you disobeyed a direct order.”

“I still saved your life. Seriously, you should be rewarding me instead of whatever this is.”

“Reward you?”

“Yeah. That’s common sense.”

“Here’s another piece of common sense for you. In cases of disobeying a direct order, you’re to be punished.”

A war of shivers break out over my skin at the way his voice drops when he says that word.

“I…can accept punishment for disobeying orders, but on one condition.”

“What makes you think you have the right to make any conditions?”

I lift my chin. “The fact that I saved your life and proved my loyalty to you.”

“Debatable. But let’s hear it.”

“I want to choose my reward.”

“I never said I was granting you one.”

“Well, you have to. Otherwise, I’ll be punished for nothing, and I’m not game for that.”

I can almost swear that his lips twitch in what seems to be a smile, but it soon disappears. “It’s for disobeying an order, not for nothing.”

“I’m afraid that’s a dealbreaker for me.”

“You…” he trails off, closing his eyes for a brief second, and I wish I could touch his face.

I don’t dare to, though. Obviously, I don’t have the same confidence I did when I shamelessly kissed his cheek earlier.

Since I was overwhelmed by emotions, I didn’t quite think about the consequences of my actions. My only concern was having him there safe and sound.

When his eyes open again, I’m dragged into their world against my will.

“You get your reward,” he lets out begrudgingly and then adds, “but only within reason.”

I can work with that.

“Right now, however, is the time for your punishment.”

My yelp echoes in the air when he uses his hold on my throat to drag me to the bed and then unapologetically throws me on top of the mattress.

I prop myself up on my elbows and try, then fail, to control the chaos that’s whirling inside me. It doesn’t help that I’m on this bed that I haven’t been on in ages. The last time was when I fainted outside and he carried me here.

It used to smell like me a few months ago, but now, it’s only him, which is weird since I know for a fact that he barely sleeps.

Kirill stands opposite me and unhurriedly removes his jacket, revealing his white shirt that’s molded against his muscles. Red soaks the collar due to his injury earlier, but that’s the least of my worries when he unbuttons his cuffs and rolls the sleeves to his elbows.

“What’s going on?” My voice comes out shaky despite myself, and I have to clear my throat in order to speak again. “I thought my punishment would be push-ups or physical labor.”

“You thought wrong.” The whip of his words hits me across the skin, and I suppress a gasp.

“But that’s how the others are punished.”

“This isn’t about the others; this is about you.” He unbuckles his belt, and my eyes fly to his large veiny hands as he methodically removes it.

Without realizing it, I’m pushing back on my hands toward the headboard. “What type of punishment is this?”

“I think you know exactly what it is.”

I shake my head even as a frisson travels the length of my body and pools between my legs.

Holy hell.

Am I wet at the prospect of being punished?

No. It’s not about the punishment itself. It’s about the fact that Kirill will be the one conducting it.

He wraps the end of the belt around his strong hand, and I feel myself on the verge of hyperventilating. Gone are my attempts to act or remain strong. Isn’t it unfair that Kirill is the only one who has this inexplicable effect on me?

He’s about to punish me, and my body chooses this exact moment to become sexually frustrated.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve told you not to challenge my orders, but you’ve done exactly that again.” He slowly rounds the bed like a predator who’s circling their prey. “And again.”

He reaches over, and I flinch, hitting my back against the headboard.

Shit.

Why am I so jumpy? This isn’t me.

Kirill effortlessly seizes both my hands, and a shock of electricity rolls through me at the contact. It’s been a long time since he touched me this deliberately and this…intimately.

I should probably fight or resist this, but I can’t.

In fact, I don’t want to.

So I remain still as he pulls my hands above my head and expertly ties my wrists to the headboard using his belt. The leather snaps securely, stretching my arms and forbidding me from moving.

“You think it’s fun to challenge my authority, Sasha?” His forefinger slides from my wrist to my arm and then to my cheek.

My lips part, and fire erupts everywhere his skin touches mine.

“Do you?”

I shake my head once.

“That’s right. It’s not. So now, we need to fix that behavior problem of yours.”

He reaches into the nightstand, and the sound is heightened by the unbearable silence coated with thick tension.

It’s crazy how hyperaware I am of all my senses. My nostrils fill with Kirill’s cedar and woodsy scent but also with my elevated pheromones until I can almost taste them.

I’m fully clothed, but I can still feel the covers and the mattress as if they’re rubbing against my bare skin. Not only that, but ever since he grabbed me by my throat, my nipples have been hard and achy, and they’ve been pushing against my bandages. Instead of being merely uncomfortable, the sensation is downright painful.

My lips part when Kirill retrieves a military knife, but before I can focus properly, he grips a handful of my collar and lifts me partially off the bed.

I’m surprised my heart doesn’t leap out of its confines and melt in his hands.

His dangerous gaze studies the length of me in a slow rhythm that leaves me hyperventilating. “I should’ve done this a long time ago, and not only for the foolish move you pulled today, but for every-fucking-thing.”

“I…didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Is that so?” He wrenches my shirt out of my pants and cuts it down the middle, using the knife with staggering ease. It’s as if it’s made of butter. “How do you explain your involvement with that band of mercenaries back in Russia?”

“I…really didn’t know, Kirill. I swear—”

My words get stuck in the back of my throat when he cuts off my chest bandages as easily as the shirt. My breasts gently bounce free, but that offers little to no reprieve to my overstimulated nipples.

The fact that I’m bound and unable to do anything adds a perverse pleasure to my throbbing core.

“Whether you knew or not isn’t the fucking problem here.” He lets the knife hover over my heaving breasts, then down to my stomach before he cuts right through the center of my pants and boxer briefs, his hand hovering too close to my pussy. “The problem is that you not only went back to your lover, but also colluded with him against me.”

I shake my head, but I can’t find the right words to say. It’s impossible when he’s shredding my pants and boxer briefs to pieces and throwing them to the side.

I’m lying completely naked in front of him, short of the sleeves of my jacket and my torn shirt beneath me.

“Was that him earlier?”

“W-what?”

He runs the dull end of the knife up my thigh and to my stomach, leaving shivers in its wake. “The man who cleverly plotted tonight’s attack and held me at gunpoint. Is he your lover?”

“N-no! I’ve never seen him in my life. Besides, would I have shot him if I had any relationship with him?”

“I wouldn’t know. You didn’t really hurt him, so maybe that was part of an elaborate plan to make me trust you again.”

“You think I’d put you in danger again? Me?” I can’t help the sadness that clings to my words.

I thought we were making progress after tonight, but maybe that was all smoke and mirrors. This is Kirill, after all. He wouldn’t simply erase his suspicions, even if I’d died for him.

He’d probably think that I was playing with him in that sense, too.

“I don’t know, Sasha. You did it before.”

My lips tremble, and I turn my head to the side. If I keep looking at his face, I’ll see that he’ll probably never give me a chance, and I’ll probably cry.

I seem to do that a lot around him. It’s ironic that this coldhearted man is the only one who can trigger the emotional part of me.

He places the dull part of the blade beneath my chin and forces me to focus back on him.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

I clamp my lips shut in a hopeless attempt to stop them from shaking, then whisper, “Will you ever trust me again?”

“I never trusted you fully, so the again is irrelevant.”

“Then would you at least trust that I’m loyal to you, like before I went to Russia?”

“Give me the name of the fucker who was standing beside you that day, and I will forget about the Russia episode.”

“I told you that…I can’t.”

His eyes rage to a frightening blue that stiffens my muscles, but that soon morphs into hot-red desire when he slides his knife down my throat, pauses at my pulse point before continuing his path to the slope of my breast, and then turns the sharp side on my engorged nipple. I feel no pain, but a trail of blood trickles down my breast and stomach and then pools in my navel.

The sight should be appalling, but pure fascination forbids me from looking away.

“Here’s how it’ll go, Sasha.” He continues the knife’s path over my stomach, hips, and then to the sensitive spot between my legs. “I’m going to keep torturing you until you tell me a name. So unless you give me what I need, you’ll stay here all day…” he trails off, a wolfish smirk tugging on his lips. “What do we have here?”

His fingers slide between my thighs, and a dark look fills his eyes. “Are you wet at the prospect of being tortured?”

“N-no.”

“Your pussy doesn’t sing the same tune your mouth does.” He strokes my opening and teases my clit. “Look how it’s soaking my fucking fingers.”

I have to physically stop myself from humping his fingers and getting off on them. I’ve been in this state of hypersensitivity for so long that I can’t take it anymore.

He glides his fingers through my folds in a torturous rhythm, offering me stimulation but not enough to get me off.

This is a first from him. Kirill was always about getting me off. Whether with his mouth, fingers, or cock. He had the sole purpose of making me come for him and preferably scream his name during it.

But now, he seems to not want me to get off at all.

His middle finger hovers near my opening, and my hips automatically jerk. It’s been such a long time since he touched me, and no matter how much I do it myself, it’s entirely different from when he does it.

I don’t know if it’s the thickness of his fingers, the sheer dominance of his touch, or his delicious intensity, but I’m always left starving for more from him.

Just more.

“You want me to fuck your tight little cunt, Sasha?” There’s harsh amusement behind his words. “Want me to relieve the ache and make you scream?”

I nod once, my cheeks heating, but I couldn’t care less about the embarrassment right now.

“I can do that.” He slides a finger inside, and my back arches off the bed.

Oh, God.

More…more…more…

I need this.

“I can also add another one.” He thrusts the second finger in. “And another. You take three of them like such a good girl. You’re my favorite fuck hole, Sasha.”

When he rams the third finger in, I think I’ll burst. Yes, I used to take three of his fingers, but that was months ago. Being celibate and having only my fingers for company doesn’t help.

“You’re so tight that you’re milking my fingers.” He curls them inside, and my nails dig into the leather belt.

“Kirill…”

“What?”

“Please…”

“You’re going to have to be more specific with your begging. What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck me.” And not only with your fingers.

As much as I love the feeling of them inside me, I need something more.

I need all of him pressed up against me and his muscles crushing me while he gives me the most intense pleasure I’ve ever experienced.

“You can barely take my fingers, and you want my cock?” He thrusts them in a fast rhythm that leaves me gasping. “You’re such a greedy little whore, Solnyshko.”

I’m supposed to feel offended by that, but I’m not. Not one bit. If anything, it makes me wetter, until my arousal drenches his fingers.

“I can do that, too,” he continues in that deep, sexy tone. “I’ll fuck you good. Fuck you hard. I’ll fuck you until you forget about all other cocks and worship only mine. You want that?”

I nod several times, completely delirious from his dirty talk. I want to keep looking at him, to get lost in this moment and have no means of return, but it’s hard to force my eyes open when intense pleasure is building at the base of my stomach with frightening speed.

Still tearing me apart with his fingers, Kirill lowers his head and whispers hot words near my ear, “Tell me his name first.”

My lips tremble, but I murmur, “I can’t…”

One moment, I’m on the verge of an orgasm; the next, it’s gone. Kirill wrenches his fingers from inside me, leaving me hot, bothered, and with a scream bubbling at the back of my throat.

“What…? Why?”

His expression is now closed off, and if I wasn’t so frustrated, I’d be frightened. “This is a punishment. You’re not supposed to come when you haven’t confessed yet.”

“You can’t be serious…?”

He thrusts the knife’s handle inside me, and I reel from the renewed pressure. Kirill all but fucks me with the knife, and I don’t know why it feels so hot. Depraved, yes, but it’s so erotic that my earlier intense buildup seems like a joke compared to the wave that’s currently sweeping me under.

“Oh, God…”

“I’m the only god you’ll ever have.” He goes faster, harder, and so out of control that I think I’ll faint from the intensity alone. “What’s his name?”

At the moment, I forget why I shouldn’t be confessing everything. But some brain cells remain functioning and forbid me to.

The moment I shake my head, Kirill pulls out the knife when I’m a second away from coming. This time, I scream with frustration, and tears line my eyes.

“Stop it, please,” I cry out.

Sweat coats my skin, my nipples hurt so bad due to the sexual stimulation, and my core screams for a release that he won’t offer me.

And since my hands are bound, I can’t do it myself either, so I’m completely at his nonexistent mercy.

Kirill’s face turns stone-cold as he teases my clit with his fingers and thrusts the knife’s handle inside again. “You’re the only one who can stop this by giving me his fucking name. The more you resist, the more creative I become about denying you one orgasm after the other. I know your body, Sasha, even better than you do. I know when you’re about to come. Your breaths are faster, your neck flushes red, and your hips involuntarily jerk. I’ll let you come close to the peak but never reach it. I’ll do this again and again and fucking again until you give me what I want.”

And then he proceeds to do just that.

Until I think I’m going to die.