Page 20 of Sin in My Inbox (Sexting Spark #1)

Avery

"Good girl," Dmitri's voice was low, velvety, and dripping with hunger as he whispered my name, "I'm going to savor every inch of you."

I could hear the faint rustle of his clothing as he moved closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You're my gift tonight," he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "And I'm going to unwrap you slowly."

My heart pounded as his hands found my hips, fingers digging into my flesh with possessive force.

He turned me around gently, positioning me so my back was to him.

I felt his erection press against the curve of my ass through his pants, hard and insistent.

His hands slid up my sides, grazing the underside of my tits before moving to unbutton my blouse.

Each button popped open with deliberate slowness, the sound of fabric parting almost obscene in the quiet room.

When the blouse fell away, he didn't immediately move to remove my bra.

Instead, he let his hands roam over my exposed skin, tracing the edge of the lace with his fingertips.

His touch was electric, setting my nerves on fire.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he growled, his voice thick with need.

He unhooked my bra, letting it fall to the floor, and cupped my tits in his hands.

His thumbs brushed over my nipples, teasing them into hard peaks.

"Dmitri," I gasped, arching into his touch. "Please…"

"Patience, Ella," he chided softly, his lips brushing against my neck. "I told you I'm going to take my time."

He spun me around again, his hands sliding down to unzip my jeans.

They pooled at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my panties.

His fingers hooked into the waistband, pulling them down slowly, letting them brush against my thighs as he knelt before me.

My cunt was already wet, aching for him, and I could feel the heat of his breath as he leaned in close.

"So fucking beautiful," he muttered, his tongue flicking out to tease my clit. I moaned, my hands instinctively reaching for his head, but he caught my wrists and pinned them to my sides. "No," he said firmly. "You don't get to touch yet."

He stood then, guiding me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed.

He pushed me down, spreading my legs wide open.

I could feel the cool air against my soaked pussy, and I whimpered as his fingers traced the slick folds.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he said, his voice dark with desire.

"I can't wait to feel that tight little cunt wrapped around my cock. "

His words sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I squirmed under his touch. He chuckled, low and predatory, as he stroked me, his fingers slipping inside me with practiced ease. My breath hitched as he curled them just right, hitting that spot that made me see stars even through the blindfold.

"That's it," he purred, his voice a mix of command and admiration. "Let me hear you."

I couldn't help it—I moaned loudly, my hips lifting off the bed as his fingers worked me relentlessly. He added a third finger, stretching me further, and I cried out as the sensation overwhelmed me. He didn't let up, driving me closer and closer to the edge until I was trembling with need.

But then he stopped, pulling his fingers away abruptly. I whined in frustration, but he shushed me gently. "Not yet," he said, his voice thick with promise. "I'm not done with you."

I heard the sound of his belt buckle clinking, followed by the zipper of his pants. My mouth watered at the thought of his cock, and I bit my lip as I waited for him to guide me. When he did, I didn't hesitate—I leaned forward, taking him into my mouth.

"Fuck," he groaned as I sucked him deep, my tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

I could taste the saltiness of precum, and it only made me hungrier for him.

My hands rested on his thighs as I bobbed my head, taking him deeper with each stroke.

He tangled his fingers in my hair, guiding my movements but never forcing me.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure. "Take it all, Ella. You're so fucking good at this."

I hollowed my cheeks, sucking him harder until I felt him twitch in my mouth. He pulled back slightly, letting me catch my breath, but I didn't stop—I licked and kissed along the length of his shaft, savoring every inch of him.

He finally pulled away completely, his hands returning to my thighs as he positioned himself between my legs. The head of his cock pressed against my entrance, and I held my breath as he pushed inside.

"Fuck," he growled, his voice rough with desperation. "You're so tight."

I moaned loudly as he filled me completely, stretching me in the most delicious way. He started slow, savoring every inch as he moved in and out of me. The friction was incredible, and I could feel every ridge of his cock as he fucked me.

"You feel so fucking good," he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. "I could do this forever."

But forever wasn't enough—not for either of us. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent. My nails dug into his back as I clung to him, meeting each stroke with one of my own.

"Cum for me, Ella," he growled, his voice breaking as he drove into me one last time.

I gasped, the pressure building inside me until I couldn't hold it anymore. I came with a cry, my body shuddering beneath him as waves of pleasure washed over me. He followed soon after, his hips jerking as he spilled inside me.

"Fuck," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at me. "You're amazing."

Those were the last words I heard before I completely lost consciousness. The orgasm took away all my strength, and I fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.

I woke up staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, blinking at a crystal chandelier that probably cost more than my entire life savings.

The bed beside me was cold—Dmitri had clearly been gone for a while. But the traces he'd left behind and the delicious ache throughout my body were proof enough that last night wasn't just some fever dream.

I pushed myself up to sitting, a hangover-like throb spreading through every muscle. Okay, let's review yesterday's brilliant decisions, shall we?

Yesterday, I marched into a mob boss's fortress like some kind of delusional hero. And what did I accomplish? Oh, just witnessed him dispose of someone like taking out the trash, got drugged by his thoughtful glass of milk, and discovered he's a total snoop who went through my private notebook!

And God help me, the man had kept me up practically all night, wearing me out in ways I didn't even know were possible.

"Look at you, Avery," I whispered to the empty air, my voice hoarse. "Look at the kind of man you've fallen for. Jimmy was right—you're a hopeless idiot."

A heavy sigh escaped my throat. This wasn't the time for a pity party. I shook my head, trying to clear the mental fog, my eyes frantically searching through the tangled sheets. My fingers finally found that familiar, beat-up old phone .

The screen lit up, and those glaring white numbers stabbed into my retinas like ice picks—

8:32!

My shift at the Aisley Resort started at 9:00 sharp! From here to the hotel would take at least thirty minutes even with good traffic!

Panic swallowed me whole. Last night's terror hadn't even faded, and now I was facing unemployment. I was still on probation—any tardiness could be grounds for termination. And without this job, Mom's dialysis next month would be impossible.

Fear overpowered all the soreness and those confusing emotions swirling in my chest. I shot out of bed like a startled cat, frantically throwing on yesterday's clothes.

Wrinkled shirt, those faded jeans. No time for socks—I just shoved my feet into my shoes. Hair? Forget it! I grabbed my canvas bag and stumbled toward the bedroom door.

I practically flew down the grand staircase—wide enough to host a horse race—and had just hit the ground floor when the smell of toast and coffee hit me.

A woman in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, her hair pulled back without a single strand out of place, stood beside a long table loaded with an elaborate breakfast spread.

She looked about fifty, with an expression that screamed "school principal. "

"Miss Solovyeva, you're awake. I'm Petty, Mr. Belov's housekeeper. Mr. Belov instructed me to prepare breakfast for you. Please have something before you leave." Her voice was steady, completely flat.

Breakfast? I needed wings to fly out of here!

"Thank you so much! But I have to get to work! I'm so, so sorry!" I babbled, trying to dodge around her and that inconvenient table, making a beeline for what looked like an impossibly heavy front door.

She positioned herself firmly between me and the shortest path to freedom. "Mr. Belov specifically instructed that you must rest properly. There's no need to rush." She emphasized the word "must."

I shook my head frantically, trying to sidestep her. "I'm sorry, Ms. Petty, but I really have to go!"

Petty didn't move, just calmly looked toward the door.

Just as I was about to reach it, two men in black suits blocked the entrance like twin towers. They were expressionless, their eyes scanning me like security cameras, absolutely immovable.

I jumped back in shock. What was this? Imprisonment?

I spun around to look at Petty in horror.

Her face maintained that same unruffled expression.

"Miss Solovyeva, please have breakfast. This is Mr. Belov's order.

" Her tone didn't even change, but the invisible pressure was suffocating.

I had no doubt that if I tried to force my way out, those bodyguards would haul me back like a sack of potatoes.

Despair washed over me like ice water. That's it. The job was gone for sure. Mom... My mind went blank.

Petty pointed to an expensive-looking chair by the table. "Please sit."