บททั้งหมดของ Submit To Me: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

KaterinaWe're descending the stairs into the lobby when I see her. Astana is tall and lean. A black hoodie is draped over her leotard while her white tutu fans beneath. She's surrounded by the other dancers, all of them chatting with smiles as they bask in the aftermath of a completed show. I pull up short next to Sasha."Oh my God, she's right there," I whisper."Well, what are you waiting for?" he says. "Go say hello.""No, I couldn't. She probably doesn't want fans rushing her after a show."Laughing in his throat, he walks down the last of the steps, waving one arm in the air. "Ms. Bukharova! Idi suda.""Sasha Ivanovsky." She smiles benevolently at him. "Did you enjoy the show? It's rare that someone books out the whole theater for themselves." She says it coyly, making me wonder if she's actually annoyed that he did this.Does she prefer dancing for a packed crowd?Oh God! Did she see us?My face heats up in shame as I consider that. No, it was too dark, and she was focused on p

KaterinaSomehow, though I know I had awful nightmares, I don't wake up with the usual migraine. Historically, after terrible nights, I'm wrecked the next morning. This time, I wake up with a cartoonish, cat-like stretch that makes my body sing.It's because of him. My attention goes to my bed, the spot Sasha sat while he cradled me against himself. Sasha chased the demons away. I didn't even know that was possible. Throwing open my curtains, I recoil at the bright sun. Then I see the clock on my dresser.No way, it's noon? I slept that long? No wonder I feel amazing.So what if it's late? Not like I have anywhere to be. I take my time cleaning myself up. I even pick a cuter dress than usual, a long, flowing green one that makes my eyes pop. Sitting at my vanity, I curl my hair off my neck; I could do it with my eyes shut at this point.Subconsciously, I'm trying to look nice for Sasha. I want to thank him for how he comforted me last night. I hope he was able to get as much sleep as

KaterinaNo man should be able to wipe away every drop of sorrow with a kiss, but Sasha manages it without effort. It's only our third kiss, but he kisses me like we're familiar lovers, finding the perfect way to angle our mouths and pressing his tongue on mine just how I like it."Sasha," I whisper."Do you want me to stop?" He kisses my shoulder, moving the strap of my dress down my arm until it drapes on my elbow. His mouth explores the new patch of untouched skin. "Say the word, ptichka. I'll do as you ask."His hands glide my other strap down. There's nothing holding my dress up but my chest as it rises and falls with my every quickening breath. Just tell him you don't want this. My hands circle his strong neck as the words die in my throat. One word and he'll end it. One little word and this stops. My nails scrape down his deltoids, feeling every groove.Sasha's breath scalds my cheek. He's waiting, the moment hanging in the air like a drop of dew on a leaf.I'm standing on a cl

SashaSweat drips down my backbone, cool against my sizzling skin. I'm not sweating from exertion but from the strain of keeping myself in check. The urge to drive my cock faster and deeper into Katerina with every thrust is beyond tempting.But when I look at her under me, I know I can't.She'll shatter. She'll break. I never expected to care about this before now. When I imagined pumping inside of her in the past—and I imagined it often—I was ruthless. In those fantasies, I made her scream—whether from agony or delight, I didn't care. But now ... I do.Why?Something digs painfully into my knuckle. It gets worse when I squeeze Katerina's fingers to hold her hands over her head. That's when I see the ring I forced on her finger—the seal of our upcoming false wedding. A prickle begins at the nape of my neck, and it worms down into my ribs.This is why.Shaking myself, I push the bubbling emotion deep below the surface of primal lust raging at the surface. My pace quickens. The wet sou

KaterinaThere are men everywhere. Though they're dressed in sharp suits like you'd expect at a special event, I know a performance when I see one. If I look carefully, I can spot how they tuck their hands under their jackets, fingering something solid. Guns. All of them are Sasha's soldiers, each of them armed to the teeth.The queasy pit of unease gets deeper when we enter the church. The stained-glass windows are beautiful pieces of art. Shadowy figures move beyond them. Other people shift in the nave, not from nerves but paranoia. He's placed men everywhere. Ninety percent of the attendees are killers who work for Sasha. The rest are the house staff, though I bet they're armed, too.He expects Yevgeniy to show up. Thinking back to Mila's recent meeting, I know I'm right. She knew the date of the wedding before I did. Sasha is orchestrating a booby trap for his enemy. And I am the bait. I still don't understand what he wants from me. I've never met Yevgeniy; I only know his name th