I know what I want. And as tempting as Katarina is, I can’t forget why she’s really here.
And because her first time with a man should not be like this. Yelling, and screaming, and door slamming. Then again, it suits her.
But the manipulation…that is something she would never forgive, and I could not take her virginity like that. Not even I’m that cold.
“Oh,” she whispers against my lips.
“But that doesn’t mean I can’t help you feel good.” In fact, I’m dying to watch her have an orgasm.
I don’t casually fuck. I never have. It’s not that I can’t. It’s that I prefer not to give in to base needs.
But making her cum doesn’t seem base at all. All my other motives aside, nothing would bring me more pleasure than witnessing her break apart.
Her eyes go wide and I thrust my hips against hers, even as I tilt her lips, sliding my tongue across hers.
I swallow her cry, letting go of her wrists to reach under her, grab her ass, and grind our hips closer.
It has the intended effect for both of us.
She lets out a keening moan, my balls are on fire as our tongues tangle together.
Maybe it’s been too long, but I can’t remember ever feeling like this. Like my entire body is ablaze.
Her legs tighten around my waist, her tongue losing any art, her body so taut, I know she’s close. And then she breaks, her cries filling my mouth.
The sound of her orgasm breaks me too and I come undone.
My entire body shudders as I groan out my finish. Katarina holds me in the cradle of her body, rocking me softly, my vision slowly clearing.
I look down at her, her face relaxed, her arms still above her head.
Her hair is a mussed halo trailing over the bed, her eyes glossy, and her cheeks flushed. I’ve kissed her lips until they’re puffy and red and they curve into a small smile.
And I understand something I haven’t for a long time.
A little bit of soft goes a long way.
That’s when someone bangs on her bedroom door.
My brow furrows. Who could that be?
My staff would never knock like that.
I’m up in a second, adjusting Katarina’s bra back in place and then placing the shawl over her shoulders.
“But…” she says, as a second knock sounds.
“It looks good on you,” I say by way of explanation. “Off to the bathroom with you, while I see to whoever is knocking.”
She pulls the pashmina around her shoulders and then rises. “I can stay.”
“No.” And then with a hand at her back, I give her a gentle push toward the bathroom, as I realize I did that one-word thing again. A third knock sounds. “I’ll handle this.”
“It’s my room. Do you care that people?—”
“No.” And then I pull her into my arms, kissing her forehead, before I send her toward the bathroom again.
The moment she closes the bathroom door, I turn and stalk toward the entrance of her room.
