"I told you to stay still, didn't I?" he demands, one hand sliding up my back to tangle in my hair. He tugs gently, arching my neck. "Use your words. Tell me what you want."
"I want you inside me," I breathe, my voice trembling. "Oh, my God… so bad."
He rewards me with a slow thrust, inching in until he's buried deep. The stretch is exquisite, filling me up, and I whimper again as my fingers curl around the edge of the desk and cling to it.
"Fuck, you're tight," he groans, holding still for a moment. "And you take it all so well. That's my good girl—squeeze around me just like that."
He starts moving then, pulling back only to drive forward again, setting a steady rhythm that has my toes curling. Each thrust hits that spot inside me, building the pressure. His hands roam—one on my hip for leverage, the other slipping around to rub my clit in tight circles.
"Keep taking it," he commands. "You're doing so well, clenching around my cock. Make yourself come on it."
The words push me closer, the filthy praise mixing with the slap of skin on skin. I rock back to meet him, chasing the release that's so near. His breaths come ragged now, but he holds control, angling deeper to make me gasp.
"Yes, just like that," he encourages. "Grind back harder. Show me how desperate you are."
I do, my hips bucking as the tension snaps. Waves of pleasure crash over me, my walls pulsing around him in rhythmic spasms. "That's it, come for me," he praises. "Such a perfect little thing, falling apart so beautifully. We're not done yet—hold on tight."
I moan his name, my vision blurring as the orgasm rips through me, leaving me trembling and boneless against the desk. But he doesn't stop. His thrusts continue, slower now but no less intense, drawing out my aftershocks.
Then his grip tightens on my hips, pulling me back onto him harder now. The sensitivity makes me whimper, but the building heat tells me another peak is already forming. He leans over me, his chest pressing against my back, lips at my ear.
"Spread wider," he orders softly. "Let me go deeper. You can take more, can't you?"
I nod frantically, adjusting as he demands, feeling him sink even farther. The new angle has me gasping, every nerve alight, and he rewards me with a kiss to my shoulder, his hand sliding under my shirt to pinch a nipple.
"Good girl," he murmurs. "Keep moaning for me. I want to hear every sound."
His rhythm builds again possessively, as if he's claiming every inch of me. I push back, meeting him thrust for thrust, lost in the haze of pleasure that's far from fading.
I gasp,my body arching as the overstimulation builds into another wave. His hand circles my clit faster, fingers slick with my arousal, while the other grips my hair, pulling just enough to heighten the sensation. "Yes, just like that," he praises. "You're perfect, clenching around my cock. Come again for me. Show me how much you love it."
The pressure begins to coil again and my breathing turns into ragged moans. Fyodor moves faster now, thrusting so hard I squeak each time he bottoms out. Heat surges through me, and I shatter again, my orgasm ripping through like lightning. My walls pulse wildly around him, milking him as tremors shake my limbs. I grunt as my vision blurs, pleasure flooding every nerve until I'm limp and quivering.
"Fuck," he growls, "that's it—you’re gripping me so hard." My climax only seems to motivate him more. "Good girl, coming all over me. God, I'm gonna fill you up." His movements turn erratic, breathing harsh against my back. With a deep grunt, he buries himself fully, and hot spurts fill me as his hands on my hips clamp down hard. He shudders and stills, then smooths his hand over the curve of my ass a few times.
After a few seconds, he pulls out, and I feel the warm trickle down my thigh. "Stay still," he says softly, but I'm in no mood to argue anymore. My body is limp and sated. I don't even know what he's doing until I feel his hands touching me.
He wipes me gently, and I half expect him to do something even more erotic. But his care and attention are solely focused on cleaning me. He seems perfectly sated now.
He discards the tissues, then tugs my panties and slacks back up. When they slide over the curve of my hip, he pulls me to a standing position and buttons me up, then zips the zipper and stands there with his eyes locked on me as he says, "There, all put together again, but remember, you're mine now." He kisses my forehead and then tucks himself away and zips his jeans up.
All I can do is stand there utterly giddy from post-sex high and totally speechless. My legs feel wobbly and my heart is racing. I'm almost too dizzy to stand as he leans in and bites my earlobe again.
"Now, go pack your things and a few for Sasha. We're going to Moscow…"
Fyodor's words snap me out of my trance. "Moscow?" I ask, suddenly confused.
"And we're leaving in twenty minutes."
He turns on a dime and walks out, leaving me reeling over the news with endorphins coursing through my system so hard, it makes me compliant with him despite every reservation.
What the fuck have I done?
13
FYODOR
The bellhop wheels our luggage through the doorway of the suite, and I direct him toward the master bedroom with a gesture. My shoulders ache from the drive and every muscle in my body is tight. All I want is to settle in and rest a little. I have some calls to make and it's late. Sasha was already sleeping in the car.
