Page 8 of Konstantin

“Don’t you dare close your eyes and deny me this,” he husks out, and my core squeezes at his dominating tone.

I try not to think about what he represents, the rage he brings out in me. Instead, I use that rage as fuel to the fire and I let it win.

I’m so close. My God, this feels too good. I can only imagine how rough he’d be. The way I’d fight it, the way he’d fight back.

“Fuck! I’m gonna come.”

He growls, pushing my hand back, his finger replacing mine while my chest aches for its next breath.

He grazes my clit, dipping into my entrance only an inch, and I squeeze around him, causing another curse to slip from him.

“Not yet. You don’t come until I tell you to.”

Oh God. This is wrong. So wrong.

It’s okay. You can go back to wanting to murder him tomorrow. It’s been too long since you’ve had a man’s attention. Use it.

He takes his finger into his mouth and sucks, and my need spirals when he groans while tasting me.

He reaches down to his ankle, and when his hand comes back up,it’s holding a nine-millimeter, offering it to me like a gift.

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“Use it.”

My eyes widen, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

“Don’t worry, the safety is on. I wouldn’t want you to blow up such a pretty cunt. Now, let’s see how much of it you can fit.”

Oh fuck, he’s not joking.

My hand trembles a little as I reach for it. Not because I’m afraid of a gun—I’ve used plenty—but just from this insanity, this desire.

But I can’t hesitate. He’s this close to kicking me out of his office, and he’s not the kind of man who’d willingly give me another chance.

Grabbing the gun, I grasp it tight, lowering it to my core and rolling the muzzle against my clit until the overwhelming sensation fills my entire body. My back arches, my eyes still on his as I work myself with it, so close I can taste it.

“Put it inside you. I want to watch your cunt stretch around my gun. I want to smell you every time I use it.”

My head grows dizzy with insane lust, and I find myself doing just that. The cold metal inches inside me and I cry out in pleasure as I tighten around the hardness, imagining it’s him.

His eyes turn molten, jaw strained so hard I’m afraid he’ll crack a tooth. When my cries grow, when my wetness coats the metal and I sink it in and out, his finger grazes my clit until my back jumps off the desk.

“Need help?”

“Oh God, yes…”

I can’t believe I just said that, but I’m desperate and dizzy. Right now, I don’t care who he is or what he represents.

“No…” His wicked mouth lifts up. “You started, you finish.”

Fuck. I hate him.

“Come on, now. Make a mess of my desk.”

He pins my legs on opposite sides, and I work myself with hisweapon, knowing he’s probably killed over a hundred people with it. I should feel dirty at the thought, but that filth is what makes my body grow wanton, chasing the orgasm I’m craving.

My eyes fasten to his, that gaze of his dark and corrupting every inch of me. My self-hatred continues to grow for allowing this monster to do this to me, but I know deep down I like it.