“So what are you doing?”
“Do you want the truth?”
“It’d be a nice change from all the lies we feed each other.”
I can’t help but smile at that.
“Right now… I’m trying really hard not to kiss you.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Tell me anyway,” she provokes, running her fingers through my stubble, the pad of her thumb tracing the seam of my lips.
“I don’t think I’d be able to stop at a kiss.”
“Are you that weak, Kill?”
“No. I’mthattempted.”
“Then I guess it’s for the best that you don’t kiss me tonight.” She pretends to pout just as she begins to slowly roll her body up and down my already hardened mast.
“I guess it is,” I croak, grabbing her by the waist again to help her maintain her slow, torturous rhythm.
“Hmm, I like this dance too,” she sings softly, rolling her hips just right, making sure I feel every inch of her.
“Blyad,” I curse, when she snakes her hand between us and begins to slowly pull my zipper down.
“What does that mean?” she questions, running her fingers up and down the seam of my boxers.
“What does what mean?” I mutter on autopilot since it’s hard to pay attention to anything she says when the only thing that separates my cock from the warmth of her hand is a flimsy piece of fabric.
“Blyad,” she repeats. “What does it mean?”
“In this instance, it means fuck.”
“How appropriate,” she taunts, leaving my cock in its confinement only to torture it with her smooth up and down strokes.
Stella presses her open palms on my bare chest and uses them to push herself up and down my length, her skin-tightpants making it so that she feels every inch of my want. All too soon does her usual mocking demeanor disappear, giving way only to desire and need.
Just like in the penthouse suite, this is Stella’s show, and she’s determined to take, take, and take. Take everything I’m willing to let go of. She’s pushing the boundaries I set in place, making me regret every last rule I made, while toying with my restraint. And when her lids close as she begins to pant out my name, a sheen of sweat covering her temple, restraint becomes an enemy I need to vanquish.
“Milaya,” I choke out as she squeezes her breast and tweaks two perfect nipples that seem ready to slice through her top.
“Shh, Kill,” she whispers, placing a finger on my lips. “Don’t ruin this with words right now. Just dance with me.”
I close my eyes for a moment, reveling in the feel of her. Even though we’re fully dressed, I can feel every inch of her body mold itself to mine. The heat of her core practically scorches the fabric of my boxers, my cock leaking precum with just the sound of her little pants. She glides ever so slowly up and down my shaft, her hand gripping my jaw with such force that I have no choice but to keep staring at her.
“You really are the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever seen,” I begin, opting to speak in Russian, knowing Stella wouldn’t appreciate that kind of praise if she understood it.
Praising her for a kill, she’ll accept it with a smile. But telling her that she’s somehow hypnotized me… that my days feel bleak when I don’t see her… no. Those kinds of confessions aren’t welcome.
I have to admit, even I’m not comfortable with them. She was supposed to be my angle to get information about Katya’s daughter. Nothing more. But lately, when I’m with her, finding insight on Kira hasn’t been the priority it should be.
No. Instead, I crave stolen moments with her. Moments where I pretend she isn’t an outfit princess and I’m not her rival or her enemy.
“Kill,” she moans as she nears the precipice.
