Page 148 of Sins of a King

“Da,” he whispered.

“Then let’s do this.”

Dolinsky released me, and I went over to the bed to sit on the edge. He pulled out his cell phone from his trouser pocket and quickly dialed Sasha.

“We’re ready.” He hung up and set the phone aside. Removing his jacket, he tossed it onto a wooden chair. He unfastened the top few buttons of his crisp, white dress shirt and rolled up the sleeves. Despite his casual appearance, there was a strained ferocity in his body, a coiled tension.

He dimmed the lights, giving the room a romantic, sensual glow. My pulse flickered with a different level of fear. I didn’t know what to expect; I couldn’t predict the outcome.

“I’m here,” Sasha said from the doorway of the bedroom.

“Good,” Dolinsky said.

Sasha’s blue eyes, dark in the low light, looked at me. To his credit, his gaze remained on my face instead of scrolling down my body. I was showing a good amount of skin, but I wasn’t at all embarrassed by it. Performing burlesque had taught me to shove my real persona away and don a new one. This would just be another performance.

“Barrett,” Dolinsky said, “get in the middle of the bed. Sit on your haunches. Sasha, set up the camera on the tripod.”

I moved and got myself situated while Sasha did as Dolinsky orchestrated. Dolinsky came around to stand in front of me, rearranging my hair so it fell down my back, exposing my cleavage. His eyes lingered on my face for a moment before returning to himself. He kissed me gently, tenderly, and then he climbed onto the bed. Glancing behind me, I saw he was on his knees, looming tall and in a position of power.

“Wait,” I said to Sasha who was getting ready to turn on the camera.

“Yes?” Dolinsky asked.

“I think I need another shot. Don’t bother with the glass,” I said.

Sasha went to get me the bottle of vodka. I took a few more swallows, hoping it numbed me enough, fortified me enough.

“Easy,” Sasha said, taking the bottle away from me so I couldn’t drink myself into oblivion.

My tongue swiped the droplets of vodka from my lips, and I watched Sasha’s face tighten before he turned away from me. He set the bottle aside and returned to his spot behind the camera.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I said, glad my voice didn’t waver.

With a press of the button, Sasha nodded letting us know the camera was recording. For a long moment, nothing happened. And then Dolinsky reached out to stroke my hair, like a man would stroke his lover. The air in the bedroom thickened with tension.

I kept my eyes on Sasha. For some reason I trusted him, trusted him to get me through this. His eyes remained locked on mine, and ever so slightly he inclined his head.

Dolinsky’s hands gripped my hair and pulled me up into his hard body. Pain shot through my scalp and tears gathered in my eyes. He was deliberately rough as he bent to expose my neck. He ran his nose along the skin below my ear, his tongue delving out to trace my shoulder. He murmured something in Russian as he continued to tongue my flesh. To my ever-loving horror, my nipples tightened.

The hand holding my hair eased just a bit, but Dolinsky didn’t let go. His free hand skimmed down my body, over the curve of a breast. He cupped it, his thumb grazing my nipple through the lace. He played with it until it hardened.

Lust and vodka swirled in my blood, and I let out a moan.

Dolinsky released my hair, and I almost sagged against him. I felt his erection pressing into my back, and I nearly wiggled against it.

“Do you like that?” he asked, his tone low and guttural. When I didn’t answer, he pulled down the lace that shielded my breasts and exposed them to the camera. I kept my eyes open and locked on Sasha. His face was devoid of emotion, and it was exactly what I needed.

Fingers roamed over my breasts, kneading flesh, eliciting goosebumps from my skin. Dolinsky tweaked my nipples before he placed a hand at my hip, the other worming its way under the lace negligee. I let out a whimper as he found the place between my legs wet and wanting.

His finger skated across my bare skin before he slipped it inside of me. He held me to him as he pleasured me for the camera, his labored breathing harsh in my ear. My body was primed and needy. I wanted an orgasm as much as I knew I shouldn’t. But Dolinsky played my body like an expert. My skin flushed and tingled. The camera on me heightened the intensity of my enjoyment. Before I knew it, I was coming on his hand.

Dolinsky withdrew his fingers and moved next to me. He reached out to grasp my chin and forced me to look at him. His face was harsh, his mouth taut. My breasts were still free, but his gaze didn’t stray from my face until he went to pick up my left hand. He roved a finger over the wedding band and then guided it off my knuckle.

“This is just the beginning of what I can do to you. Did you like it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, right before he broke my ring finger.