"It wasn't intentional."
"I don't care." He was right in front of me now, towering over me. "Do you know what I thought? I thought something happened to you. I thought maybe your ex found you. I had Mikhail searching the entire property."
Guilt crashed over me. "Olek, I'm sorry."
"Sorry isn't good enough." His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back. "You're mine for ninety days, Katrina. That means when I tell you to be somewhere, you're there. Understand?"
"Yes, but?—"
"No buts." He spun me around and bent me over the counter, my cheek pressed against the cold marble. "You want space? You want to pull away? Fine. But you're going to remember who you belong to first."
His hand pushed up my uniform skirt, and I heard him curse.
"No underwear. At least you followed one instruction today."
"Olek, there are workers outside."
"Then you'd better be quiet." He undid his belt, the sound loud in the empty bathroom. "Wouldn't want them to hear you screaming my name."
He entered me in one brutal thrust, and I bit down on my hand to keep from crying out. No warm up. No preparation. Just hard and fast and punishing. However, I’d been wet since the moment he stormed in here looking all good in that damn suit.
"This what you needed?" He pounded into me relentlessly. "Needed me to remind you who you belong to?"
I couldn't answer. Could barely breathe. The angle was intense, the pace merciless.
"Answer me."
"Yes," I gasped against my hand.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I needed this. Needed you."
"Damn right." His grip on my hips would leave bruises. It didn’t take long before he was coming inside me. He breathed heavily, panting from exertion and release. "Open your mouth."
I didn't understand until he pulled out and spun me around, his hand going to the back of my head.
"On your knees."
I dropped, and he guided his cock to my lips—wet with me, him, and at half mast.
"Clean it," he commanded. "Then get me ready again."
I took him in my mouth, tasting myself on him. Tasting his cum, too. He let me work for maybe thirty seconds before his hand fisted in my hair and he started fucking my throat.
Rough. Demanding. Using me. And God help me, I was getting wetter by the second. Tears streamed down my face from the effort of taking him so deep. My jaw ached. But I didn't pullaway. Desired dripped down my thighs, and my clit throbbed hard, needing him to fuck me again.
"That's it," he groaned. "Take it. Take all of me."
I felt him getting closer, his thrusts becoming erratic. Then he pulled out abruptly.
"Up. Against the counter."
I stood on shaking legs, and he turned me around again. But this time, his hand went between my cheeks.
My whole body tensed.
"Olek—" what was he doing?
