Page 24 of Unwritten Vows
Liza
It’s been a scary night, and before that I had already used up a lot of mental energy on trying to figure out how I felt and what I wanted, so I’m feeling very emotionally drained as we pull up to Derrick’s hotel.
I may be drained, but I feel safe with Derrick in a way I’ve never felt safe with anyone else.
I trust that he’d kill for me, because I’ve seen it with my own eyes.
You’re trauma bonding, Liza. Your feelings about what just happened are mistaking him for some savior.
Don’t allow all that dopamine and adrenaline to decide what kind of relationship you’re going to have with him…
But I already know we’ve created a bond based on more than trauma.
I think I’d be smarter than to trust him in a moment like this if I didn’t already feel close to him.
I might be allowing this to bring us closer, but is that such a bad thing?
He loves opera. He’s shown he’s willing to learn new things for me and discuss our mutual interests.
On top of that, he’s so many things I never thought I’d need in a man, but now see that I’ve wanted the entire time: He feels safe while being shockingly brave and selfless.
I’ve always thought I could take care of myself, and in a lot of ways, I think I’ve managed it.
But physically, I can see that I haven’t.
I’ve been in danger my entire life, through no fault of my own, and relied on guards and anonymity to shield me, no matter how much I’ve told myself that I’m resilient enough to be my own bodyguard.
I want Derrick to protect me the way my father has, but now I want to know what’s happening. I want to know what he’s protecting me from. And I certainly don’t want anyone else doing it besides him.
We make it upstairs and into his room without incident. The moment the elevator door closes, he leans down to kiss me.
He hasn’t kissed me much. A few times, fast and passionate, always bruising my lips. This time isn’t like that. He goes slow and sweet. He puts his hands on my face and cradles it, like I’m delicate. Like he treasures me.
I think that’s when I fall for Derrick Stepinov. It’s not when he saves my life, and it’s not when he takes my virginity. My story is indeed very different than I always thought it would be, but somehow, it feels just right.
It’s as if he reads my mind somehow. “I think I’m going to fall in love with you, Eliza Andreeva. If it’s possible for a guy like me,” he whispers between kisses.
My heart melts in my chest and leaks out onto the floor. It’s too soon for this, but it feels like it’s perfect timing somehow. Still, I will myself not to get carried away, at least not out loud, although my heart feels like it’s about to pull itself off the melted mess on the floor and fly away.
There must be some way to show him without saying it. And just then, it comes to me. “What would you do then, Derrick Stepinov? What would you even do with a woman you loved?”
He smiles and backs up from me, staring down at me like he can’t understand how he’s even in the same room as me, touching me, able to have me any way that he wants. But I think he can. I think I’d give him my blessing on that.
But he doesn’t do whatever he wants. He does the exact opposite. “I’d let her choose.” He presses his face against mine and smiles gently. “As you know, I rarely do that. So, does she want me to fuck her senseless or make love to her?”
I’m blushing at this point. He seems so sincere, but I never expected him to be so sweet.
Not to me—not to anyone. Did I truly misjudge him?
Or did he misjudge himself up until now and show everyone a side to him that he doesn’t even like that much?
With the way he’s smiling at me, there’s no way this is fake happiness.
I also don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to choose. “You’d love her because she’d tell you to make the choice,” I say in a whisper.
His smile grows. “Well, I have to tell you Liza, I don’t think I’ve ever made love to someone. But seeing as last time was your first time having sex, maybe I can have a first time for something, too. To be fair… I probably should have done it then.”
Everything he does is slow and sweet after that.
I’ve never thought of Derrick as the harsh, ruthless man he really can be when there’s a threat, but I’ve also never thought of him this way, either.
I thought he was the constant joker. The nonchalant lover who only holds your hair back from your face because it turns him on to yank it in his fist while you come.
But what he shows me now is all gentle caresses and moderation.
There’s no feeling of gasping, immediate need—it’s more of a slow-burning fire that never goes out.
He lifts my shirt and rubs my sides, sliding his hands up and down my small curves. “Every dip and bulge of you kills me, Liza. You’re so small and sweet, and then you open that smart, unruly mouth.” He trails down my neck, sucking the hollow where it meets my shoulder.
I feel my cheeks flush with pride as he says this to me.
He’s a 29-year-old man who has seen far more of the world, including the mafia world we live in, than me.
I’m a 20-year-old, barely a woman, whose best friends have been books and study groups for my entire life.
Of course, I’ve learned a lot and gone abroad with my father.
But I’m certainly not nearly as worldly as Derrick.
And still, he thinks I’m impressive. Still, he thinks I’m smart and witty.
He barely has our clothes off, his tie in disarray, his shirt unbuttoned to his navel, and my own dress ripped up above my pelvis, but he can’t hold back anymore. He pushes into me with a slow, rocking movement, leaning down to kiss me again.
“Liza, Zaychik moy , what are you doing to me?” he groans into my mouth. “Never run from me, sweet little bunny. I’ll never let you run away from me.”
I cry softly into his mouth as I come, and he kisses me through the orgasm, cupping my clit with the heel of his hand and pressing down.
It’s the way I imagined my first time would be when I was much younger, and it feels like we’re going through something real together.
Not my first time having sex, but a more important first for both of us.
But he still hasn’t come once I’ve finished, and he continues to push slowly into me, until I suddenly want more.
“I think I need a change now,” I whisper, with just a bit of the innocent uncertainty that I know drives him wild. “Sweet, soulful Derrick Stepinov is wonderful… but I think I need tear-my-clothes-off, sex-god Derrick Stepinov now.”
He makes a sound low in his throat between a growl and a laugh. “Some of the things that come out of your mouth—”
“Oh!” I squeal as he bites down and sucks on my neck like a vampire. I’m sure that’s going to leave a red mark, and shockingly, nothing could be more alluring. The idea of him marking me and making me his is all I want.
So I ask, the way he always wants me to. “More? Please?”
He’s in a rush right away, tearing our clothes off fully, plucking me so hard it’ll leave bruises, grabbing my naked thighs in his huge hands and spreading me apart. It’s so quick that I don’t think and instinctively go to shut them, but he slaps them open.
“Oh, no no no. You’re absolutely not allowed to move after that request, my dear, dear little Liza.
” He whips off his belt and grabs my hands, binding them to the headboard with some kind of crazy knot that I absolutely can’t get out of.
Then, he yanks his tie from his neck and blindfolds me.
If I wanted to, I could scootch up to the headboard and get it off, which is likely why he issues his warning.
“If you move for the next three minutes, it’ll just get worse and worse for you. ”
I’m not sure where it comes from, but the impulse to freeze completely takes over, and I don’t move a muscle. His voice is so harsh and thrilling, edging into me like the tip of a knife.
“Oh, I knew you would be a good girl for me one day. I have you so wrapped up that you’ve gone from questioning my every move to following my every word.” I feel the zip of something cold just then, directly on my nipple, and I jerk involuntarily.
“Oops.” He grabs my face and squeezes. “You didn’t mean to do that, did you?”
I shake my head. “No. Good. That’s good. No moving, no matter what I do.”
He trails what must be an ice cube down to my navel, teases me there, and then moves it down into my center, massaging it against my clit.
“Hotel rooms come with all sorts of interesting amenities.” I hear the buzzing just before I feel a strange vibration against my nipples, as he continues to rub the ice against me, slipping it into my vagina and back out again.
“They even gave me this fancy toothbrush.” He flicks the buzzing bristles against my hard nipples, and I feel like I might go crazy.
The onslaught of sensations is incredibly overstimulating, especially with my sight gone. I feel my blood pumping through my veins, running through my core, driving me wild with desire. If I don’t speak or move, I’m going to burst.
“Getting restless?” A second later, I feel another sensation—my favorite of all.
Frozen and wet mixes with warm and wet as he swirls what must be his tongue and an ice cube over my nipple at once.
The cold of the ice between my legs is gone but gets quickly replaced by the buzzing toothbrush.
My chest heaves up and down, my breath coming out quick and heavy, and finally I feel Derrick’s hard cock fill me.
“Scream for me,” he says, and I waste no time crying out his name.
He ruts into me as he unties my hands from the headboard, but keeps them tied in front of me.
He picks me up, unsheathing himself from me for just a moment as he repositions us, and then shoves into me from behind.
I’m sitting on his lap, pushing my ass against him as hard as I can, begging for more friction, just as he rips the tie off my face.
I stare into a mirror at the two of us, as he fucks my brains out, biting my shoulder. “See what I do to you?” I nod back at him, our eyes locking in the mirror, feeling an overwhelming wave of desire and yearning in my gut. The words, the feelings, the sensations he gives me—it’s all too much.
“I’ve made you such a mess. But you need me, don’t you?” I nod again as he slams into me furiously. I’m crying, but I’m not even embarrassed or upset about it.
“You’re mine, Liza. You’re fucking mine.”
“Yes!” I come hard to that line, hoping with all my heart that it’s true. Hoping that he wants me to be his as much as I want to be. Hoping that he won’t hold my heart captive now that I’ve given it to him.
Hoping that he’s truly given me his in return.