Savage Tracker by Maggie Cole

6

Selena

Not much is registeringas we leave the club. Obrecht dresses me then himself. He picks me up and carries me through the club. His palm firmly holds my face to his chest, as if he doesn't want me to look at anyone. Or maybe he doesn't want anyone to see me.

I'm not sure which it is, but I close my eyes, inhaling his scent and listening to his heartbeat, feeling safe for the first time in what seems like forever. The air prickles my skin when we step outside. His car is waiting on the curb, and he holds me the entire way to our building. When the driver parks the vehicle, he murmurs, "We're home, my dorogaya."

Every time he calls me his dorogaya, or baby girl, a warmth seeps through my body. It makes me feel special, as if I'm his and no one else's.

He slides out of the car with me in his arms and carries me in the same manner as before. He sets me down and kisses my head. "Let's get these clothes off you. We need to shower."

"Wh-where are we?" I assumed he would take me to my place, but I don't know where we are. The room is dark. A gas fireplace creates a soft glow. It spans the entire wall across from the bed and curves onto the adjoining one, stopping at a doorway. The Chicago skyline blinks against a glass wall surrounded by blackness, which I assume is Lake Michigan.

"My bedroom." He strips me then himself, and leads me to the bathroom. He flips a switch, and another fireplace turns on.

"Wow," I whisper. The bathroom is as beautiful as the bedroom, in clean whites, blues, and grays.

He scoops me up and sets me on the counter. "Stay here, baby girl." His fingers climb up my thigh, torso, and neck until they rest on my cheek. Even with me sitting on the counter, he towers over me. He tilts my head, and he studies my face for a moment. I hold my breath and he admits, "You scared me tonight."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are." He gives me a chaste kiss on the lips then retreats and turns on the shower.

I scan every inch of his hard flesh. The flutters in my stomach spark back to life. The face of the snake on his neck stares at me. The only other tattoo he has on that side of his body is on the right shoulder. It says Natalia, and I instantly feel a flare of jealousy.

He reaches into the shower to check the water then comes back to me. He helps me off the counter and leads me into the oversized stall.

I drop to my knees and bow my head. Water pours over me, but I don't dare move to shield myself.

He slides his hands under my armpits and yanks me up. I'm not sure how to interpret his expression. In a stern yet gentle voice, he says, "No, Selena."

I'm confused again. I've not done the right thing, and my chest tightens. I bow my head again. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm..." More tears fall. I wish I could stop them. I'm not sure what's happening or why I keep crying. I don't understand what I've done wrong.

He pulls me into his chest, embracing me and kissing my head. "Let me take care of you, baby girl."

He's going to take care of me?

No. This isn't right. I'm his submissive, or bottom, or whatever he wants to call it.

Is he testing me?

"Please. I-I only want to please you, sir."

A rumble rolls through his chest, and he sniffs hard. He tightens his arms. "If you want to please me, you will let me take care of you."

"I-I'm so confused," I admit.

"Yes. We will talk tomorrow, and everything will become clear for you."

"It will?"

He tilts my head, and his icy-blue eyes pierce into mine. "Yes, my dorogaya. I promise. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," I say, without even contemplating it.

He smiles, and little lines pop out around his eyes. "That makes me happy."

"It does?"

"Yes. Now be a good girl and let me take care of you." He kisses me on the lips then spends several minutes diligently washing every part of my body. I do everything he says, which only consists of a few things like spin or pick up your foot. When he gives me that command, he's on his knees, which baffles me more.

Obrecht remains kneeling on the tile, looks up at me, and asks, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm confused," I repeat.

"Yes. Tell me why."

I swallow hard. I don't want to talk about it. "May I have permission not to answer right now?"

He shakes his head. "No. You are to tell me right now."

My insides quiver. Obrecht takes his hands and moves them up and down my thighs, never taking his gaze off mine. "Tell me."

"J-Jack never got on his knees, and he didn't wash me in the shower. I'm not sure what to do."

"Exactly what you're doing. What did he do to you in the shower?" Obrecht asks.

"I-I had to wash him and do all the things he wanted. S-sometimes I got punished in the shower. He'd turn the cold water on, and I'd have to kneel for hours. Some..." I close my eyes then open them again. "Sometimes, he'd make me stare at the ceiling under the faucet or spray water on my face. If I choked or shivered too much, he would bring his leather belt into the shower."

Obrecht's face turns dark, and I think I'm in trouble.

"I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me!"

He keeps rubbing his palms on my thighs. "I'm not mad at you. You've done nothing wrong. You've been a very good girl. Do you want your reward?"

"My reward?" I ask, once again perplexed by everything that is happening right now.

"Yes." He moves me until my back is against the wall and my legs are over his shoulders. His face tilts up at me. "Come as much as you want, baby girl."

My confusion only deepens. Jack never went down on me, even before we were married. I was the one to give him oral sex. The limited sexual experience I had before Jack was nothing like Obrecht Ivanov.

His mouth and fingers are a tornado sweeping through every inch of my pussy, flicking me, sucking me, sliding his tongue and fingers in and out of my sex. Right before my first orgasm, he takes his other hand and slips a finger past the hard ridge of my forbidden zone.

The room echoes with my cries and the water pounding down on the tile as he inches more in me, grunting as I writhe against him.

"Obrecht," I keep screaming as he continues to manipulate my body. It's as if he has a needle and is injecting me with straight adrenaline. I start to come down, and he shoots me up again. He doesn't stop until I can no longer hold myself up and my body is trembling above his.

He steadies me against the wall, rises, then kisses me. His warm body presses against mine, a contrast to the cold tile. While kissing me, he turns the water off and grabs a towel. He steps back and dries me off first before himself, which only adds to my list of questions.

He tosses his towel on the floor then picks me up and carries me to his bed. After I'm under the covers, he slides in next to me and pulls me into him so my head is on his chest. "You okay, my dorogaya?"

"Yes. Just trying to understand things."

He slides down and turns on his side so his face is next to mine. "Are you scared right now?"

"No. I-I feel safe with you. And warm."

He smiles and strokes my cheek. "I won't hurt you. I'll only protect you. Do you understand?"

My stomach tightens. I want to believe him. He's done nothing for me to think anything different, but I've never had that.

"I see doubt on your face," he gently states.

Tears consume me again. Before tonight, I thought I was doing good. But I guess that's what happens when you only consider Pandora's box instead of opening the lid and jumping in with both feet. "Am I really screwed up? Do you think you can fix me?"

His eyes widen. He slides his thumb over my trembling lips. "You don't need anyone to fix you. You're confused, baby girl, and it's okay. Tomorrow we'll talk, and things will be clearer."

I grip the gold collar still around my neck and admit things I've not told anyone. "Sometimes, I feel like I haven't escaped him. I wonder how it's possible. He always said slaves don't leave their Masters until they die. If he owns me, how am I still not his property? Am I really free, or am I just passing the time until he finds me and takes what is his?"

Obrecht's icy-blue eyes darken. His face hardens. "He doesn't own you. He never has."

"I have dreams he's trying to kill me. And..." I take a deep breath. "I don't know if it's a flashback of all the times I thought he was or if it's a premonition of what's to come."

Obrecht's voice turns so cold, a shiver runs down my spine. "If anyone is dying, it's him." He pulls me closer and kisses me. "Close your eyes and try to sleep, my dorogaya. Morning will be here soon."

Like always, I obey. I shut my eyes, but for once, I don't feel alone or scared. I sink deeper into the cocoon of Obrecht's warm, safe body.

When I wake up, the sun is shining into the room. I turn over, but Obrecht is nowhere. One of his T-shirts is folded, sitting on the bed. I put it on then walk out of the bedroom. I freeze in the doorway when I see him standing near the window, his hand in his hair, and aggressively speaking Russian into the phone. I drop to my knees, sit straight with my ass on my heels, and bow my head while he continues to have his conversation. His words come out fast. If I didn't know him, his voice would scare me. I'm unsure how much time passes, but he finally barks something else out, then it goes quiet. I don't dare look up or even attempt to sneak a peek at him. If he wants me to be his bottom, then I want to be a perfect one for him, whatever that means.

The air suddenly seems to shift. It feels as if too much time has passed in silence. I finally see his feet in front of me. He crouches down. "Look at me, Selena."

I obey, fixing my eyes on his icy-blue orbs.

He strokes my cheek. "No more kneeling."

My chest tightens.

I've done something wrong. He no longer wants me.

The events of the previous night come flying back to me. He wasn't happy I went to the club.

I didn't understand a lot and questioned him.

I must have been so dirty he had to wash me.

"I'm sorry. I'll do better for you," I whisper. "Please give me another chance."

He smiles, but there's sympathy in his eyes. I hate it. I don't want him to look at me with pity. My cheeks flare with heat. His gaze never leaves mine. "You haven't done anything wrong, baby girl. Come have breakfast, and let's talk."

My stomach flips, but I remember him telling me several times last night we would talk today.

He guides me over to the table, where food is laid out, but my stomach won't stop pitching. All I can think is I screwed up, and now I'm going to lose him.