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“Fuck off.” Dimitry grins as he flips them the bird. He comes around the car and opens his own door, his hand going possessively over my thigh as he pulls out onto the road. “Lucky your place is only five minutes from here,” he growls, putting his foot to the metal. “I’m not sure I can wait any longer than that.”

He turns to look me up and down again. “Christ. We need to get you girls longer skirts.”

“You don’t like this one?” I spread my legs slightly as his hand slides higher.

“Can’t wait to see you without it.”

I giggle, then gasp as his hand covers me.

“Fuck, Skip,” he says hoarsely, manipulating me slowly. “I want to be inside you so badly.”

He pulls the car to the curb outside my apartment and is out of it almost before the engine has stopped turning, pulling me out of my seat and toward the door, his hands already sliding up my legs as I fumble for my keys.

“This ass,” he murmurs as I turn the key in the lock. “Even that terrible skirt can’t hide how hot it is.”

I stagger into the stairwell as he kisses my neck. He lifts me onto the first step. “Up you go, Skip,” he says, smiling evilly when I turn back to him. “I definitely want to watch you climb those stairs.”

I make a show of it, swaying my ass as I go, savoring his low whistle and the feel of his eyes. Halfway up I pull the T-shirt over my head and unclip my bra, dropping them as I go.At the top of the stairs I turn, giving him a full view of my bared breasts and hard nipples.

“Holy fuck.” He stares at me, eyes devouring every inch.

“Are you coming, muscle boy, or are you just going to look at me all night?”

Dimitry comes slowly up the stairs, his eyes never leaving mine. “I could look at you forever, Skip, and it would still feel like the first time.” His mouth takes mine like fire, and he backs me toward my door, taking the key from my hand and turning it himself, then kicking it closed behind us. I pull off his jacket and tug at his shirt, but he puts his hands over mine and pushes them away. “I want that skirt gone.”

I can see how hard he is beneath the suit pants. I also hear the faintly commanding note in his voice, sense the adrenaline still coursing through him.

It’s a fierce, illicit thrill, like lightning crackling between us. Turning my back on him, I peek over my shoulder as I shimmy my hips so the skirt slides off to lie in a pool at my feet. I step out of it, leaving only my lace Brazilian-cut knickers. I part my legs slightly and push my ass toward him. “Is this what you meant by gone?”

“It’ll do for now.” He folds his arms and leans back against the door. “Now turn around.”

I turn slowly, so swollen and hot between my legs that I’d do anything he fucking asked.

“Your nipples have been hard since I first saw you in Pillars.” His voice is low, his eyes never leaving me. “And your pussy is so swollen that if I touched you, you’d come.”

I gasp, my knees almost buckling at his words.

“But I’m not going to touch you there. Not yet.” Dimitry pushes off from the door and walks into the kitchen, pulling down the bottle of Scotch he left on top of the fridge. He takes a handful of ice from the freezer and pours himself a glass. I stand in the middle of my living room, aching with lust, bloodpounding in my ears and my body poised on the edge of orgasm. He walks back out and prowls around the back of the couch, coming to stand behind me again.

“Turn toward the window.”

I do, my legs shaking.

“Put your hands on the windowsill.”

Leaning forward, I do as he says. The cool breeze plays over my naked breasts, the filmy curtain billowing out to caress my hot flesh. He moves behind me, and I cry out at the sudden touch of ice on the nape of my neck.

“Don’t move,” he growls, slowly tracing the length of my spine with the ice cube. He lingers at the top of my ass, then dips the ice down to trace one inner thigh crease, then the other. I quiver, acutely aware of every tiny movement. He slips his hand beneath me, tracing the ice down the front of my knickers, along my pulsing slit, then around and up the crack of my ass. I gasp, pushing back toward him. He holds the ice cube against the soaked strip of satin covering my opening, slowly rolling it against me until the ice melts completely.

Hooking his fingers under the lace, he draws the scrap of material slowly down my ass, lifting first one foot and then the other so I step out of them. His hands trace back up my legs, widening my stance until he’s cupping my ass again, his thumbs pressing against my outer lips.

“You’re so wet,” he says hoarsely. “So swollen. You need to come, Skip.”

But his touch doesn’t change. Doesn’t hasten. He just slowly rotates my clit through my folds until I’m out of my mind, holding on to the windowsill to stop myself falling, my entire world reduced to his slow, leisurely pressure on my pussy, the lightning touch as he rolls me expertly with his hands.

He bends his head, his tongue tracing my spine from ass crack to neck, one of his hands coming around to cup mybreast. He rolls my nipple between his fingers, and my body bucks. “Ha.” The word vibrates against my skin. “If I touch those you’re going to come as well, aren’t you, Skip?”

“Uh-huh.” The sound is a garbled mess.