Page 35

MIA

The staring contest goes a bit like this:

He stares.

I stare.

He stares.

I try to cover myself up with the bathrobe and accidentally drop it fully on the ground.

He. Stares. Harder.

This is it. He’s gonna fire me. He’s gonna sue me for sexual harassment, take me for everything I don’t own, and then he’ll ? —

Wait, why is he walking?

Why is he walking towards me?!

“ Blyat’. ” That foreign word spills like a curse from his lips. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?.”

“Wait, it wasn’t like that! I didn’t—I—what?”

He’s looming now, him fully clothed, me very much not. “Always teasing. Always just out of reach.”

“Please don’t?—”

Whatever I was going to ask him not to do dies when he bends down to ravage my mouth.

He licks my tongue like he owns it. Like I’m his and always have been. It makes my head spin, sends me right back through the locked door of that night’s memories.

“Yulian,” I pant, “we can’t?—”

“No,” he agrees, pulling away sharply. His voice is a husky rasp, scraping me raw. “We’re late enough as it is.”

“Right.”

“So we’ll just have to be quick about it.”

Then he slips his fingers between my legs.

I toss my head back. “Yulian, wait—” I’m trapped against the sink with no way out. My hand curls against his eight-pack, tense and taut through the clothes. “This is a bad idea. We shouldn’t?—”

“Should’ve thought of that before you flashed me, kotyonok. ”

“It was an accid— ahh ? — !”

He’s so rough with it. So rough with me. I can feel every ridge of his calloused fingers on my clit, torturing it to madness, moving quick and sharp against it.

It shouldn’t feel good, but fuck me if it isn’t the hottest thing in the world.

Shit, do I have a caveman kink?

“So naughty,” he growls into my ear. His free hand cups my breast, squeezing it hard. “You think you can just tug on the leash all you want, hm? That it won’t fucking snap?”

“N-no,” I gasp. There’s something absurdly hot about this—me begging him to stop, even as my hips roll into his touch with every stroke. Because the truth is, I don’t want him to stop. “Please, I?—”

“Tell me to let you go,” he snarls. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

I can’t. He just started touching me, but I’m already so close, it’s unreal.

“Yulian…”

“Say the word, kotyonok, ” he demands. “Or else I’ll keep going until you scream.”

I open my mouth. Whether to moan or to stop him, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter how badly I want it: if I let it happen, it’ll end in disaster.

Just like last time.

But then, just as I’m about to find my voice?—

“Mr. Lozhkin?” a feminine voice calls, knocking a few times on the door. “I’ve got an urgent delivery for you from Mr. Goncharov.”

Yulian’s fingers slip from me. I mourn them immediately.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling away. “Time’s up, kitten. Your dress is here.”

Then he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

My head spins.

He leaves me there, naked and panting against the sink. Like he didn’t just throw my world into disarray again. Like he didn’t just almost make me come.

I stay there, trembling, catching my breath, until I feel like I can walk again.

Then I pick up Yulian’s bathrobe and head into the bedroom.

My dress is already laid on the bed. It’s another stunning piece, just like the one he sent a couple of days ago to my place: a black, tight-fitting bodycon dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, just classy enough to whisper “business” instead of screaming “whore.”

Only…

“There’s no underwear,” I note.

He just shrugs. Completely unrepentant. “Pity.”

My face catches on fire. On one hand, I’m glad Maksim didn’t have to go rummaging through my panty drawers, but on the other hand…

“So you just want me to?—?”

“Yes.” His voice drops an octave, dark with desire. Held back, but just barely. “Now.”

Swallowing, I pull the dress on. With nothing else underneath, like Yulian demanded.

It’s infuriating.

It’s humiliating.

It’s also the hottest thing in the world.

Yulian’s bossy attitude… I used to think I hated it.

But watching it play out here, within the four walls of his bedroom, commanding me to wear a dress with no panties underneath…

It’s nothing like being ordered around at a party.

That drives me crazy in the brain, but this?

It drives me crazy in a whole other place.

It makes me want to obey.

But it makes me want to push back, too.

Just a little.

He zips me up. I can feel his fingers on my exposed neck, lingering just a moment too long. He smooths down my dress, his rough palms sliding down my curves, feeling up every inch of my body.

He exhales through his nose, his grip tightening just a little. “We should go,” he growls. “We need to be?—”

“No.”

Before I can think better of it, I grab his hand. I lead it where it was moments before, lifting up my dress just enough to make room.

“You started something,” I rasp. “I want you to finish it.”

Silence falls behind me. I realize that this must be a rare occurrence for Yulian—being told no.

But eventually, his hand starts moving again.

“Fuck, kotyonok, ” he breathes, inhaling my scent deeply. “You’ll be the death of me.”

Then he sinks one finger into me.

I shiver, hard. He makes a noise of appreciation at that, then starts slowly pumping in and out of me.

“More,” I moan.

“Greedy little kitten,” he scolds me. “You don’t get to make the rules here.”

I fist his hair behind me. It’s all I can do to hold on to him, lean into his body and let him support me as pleasure mounts inside me. My legs are already shaking—if I’m not careful, I’ll fall to my knees right on his bedroom floor.

Would it be the worst thing in the world?

“Yulian…” I whimper as he adds a second finger. His thumb tortures my clit from above, while his middle and ring fingers reach deeper with each thrust.

“Fuck. Look how much you like it.”

Boldness overcomes me. Or maybe it’s need. I have no clue anymore.

“I like this more,” I whisper, tilting the angle of his wrist just a little.

I feel his lips curve in the crook of my neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I gasp. He’s picking up the pace, and it’s so much sweeter like this. With every thrust, he’s fucking straight into that spot that brings me to tears. “Just like that, God, don’t stop.”

Yulian growls into my neck, sucking a bruise just past my hairline. It rips a moan from my throat, loud and obscene, and suddenly, I’m wondering where that line between “business” and “whore” was.

But if this is what it’s like to be Yulian’s whore, I’ll sign on that dotted line again and again.

“You want me to fuck you again.”

It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Yes.”

“How?” His finger-fucking grows wilder, rougher. There’s the slightest edge of pain there, and it feels fucking amazing. “How do you want it?”

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t believe you.” He circles my clit once, twice, and the pressure is so strong, it’s a miracle I haven’t come yet. “You’ve thought about this. Touched yourself to it.”

I don’t deny it. I can’t.

“Yes.”

“In those dreams, did I fuck you on your hands and knees?” His voice drops even lower, a sandpaper whisper, and the picture it’s painting drives me insane. “Did I fuck you from behind, just like this?”

“Yes.”

“Did I make you come on my cock?”

“Yes!” I cry out. “Please, fuck me, make me come?—”

Yulian groans, rocking his hips against me, his fingers crooking with every thrust.

I’m so wet I can’t breathe. All I want is release, but Yulian won’t give it.

Every time I’m about to tip over the edge, he angles his touches slightly away from where I need them. I try to guide his hand, but he doesn’t let me.

Frustrated, I reach behind me to palm at his cock. He hisses in pleasure, but twists my hand back against my thigh moments later, forbidding me from touching him. From taking his cock out and plunging it inside me from behind, exactly the way he promised me.

But he didn’t promise anything, did he? He built a fantasy—that doesn’t mean he’ll let me have it.

The thought hurts more than I thought possible.

“Please,” I whimper. “I need it, need you to fuck me from behind, need you to treat me like your whore!”

“ Blyat’. ” A thrill shoots down my spine as I feel Yulian’s left hand release my wrist, getting to work on his belt. His cock springs free, the hot head brushing against my seam. I should be scared at how big he is, but all I want is to feel it inside me—all of it.

“You little… fucking…!”

He pushes me down by the neck, like a dog. Like he’s about to fucking mount me.

Then he grabs his cock and guides it right up to my pussy.

I’m on my hands and knees, gaping open for him, so close to my orgasm I could cry. I feel him line up with me, feel his head start to push in?—

BANG, BANG, BANG!

Knocks on the door. Loud, impatient knocks.

“Lovebirds!” Maksim’s voice breaks in, teasing and amused. “You’re both wanted at the party! Come on down before all the snacks are gone!”

I like Maksim. I really, really do. He’s polite, funny, and my best friend’s new crush.

But right now, I could kill him with my bare hands.

“Fuck.” Yulian’s cock, so close to breaching me seconds before, pulls back. “We have to go.”

“No!” I protest, close to tears.

“Yes,” he groans, no happier than I am. “He wouldn’t be knocking unless someone was about to come up here themselves.”

He traces the edges of my glistening pussy with his fingers, making me shiver. “Besides,” he drawls, “if I start fucking you now, there’s no way I’ll stop before morning.”

That promise keeps me sane. If I start fucking you now. It means he can fuck me later, once this party business has been wrapped up.

It means I can still have this.

Even if it’s the worst idea in the world.

I struggle to my feet and smooth down my dress. Then I catch it again, from the corner of my eye: Yulian, licking my juices off his fingers.

He notices me staring. He smirks, wolfish and mischievous. “Something wrong, kitten?”

“No,” I lie, my face ripe as a strawberry. “Not at all. Just—getting ready for the party.”

“Good.” He tilts my head up with that same hand. “Because it wouldn’t be proper for you to get impatient. Like I said, you don’t make the rules here. I do.”

It sends a shiver down my spine. Like there’s no question of him being in command, out there or in here.

We make ourselves decent. I’m throbbing between my legs, but I force myself to ignore it. The wetter it gets down there, the worse the “no panties” problem will become.

I can do this, though. I can hold off for a few hours. I can smile and wave and shake hands with people I don’t give a shit about just so my boss-turned-lover will reward me all night long for it.

And I can definitely pretend it means nothing.

Right?