His fingers curled around my neck before he forced me to look ahead. His pale eyes found mine in the glass.
“That’s why I’m going to fuck your asshole,” he said.“Right on top of my desk.”
For a moment I forgot to breathe.
His fingers found the button at my neck. The fabric loosened. Then the sound of the zip coming down—slow and deliberate, the way he did everything.
He dragged the material down my shoulders, down my arms, and it fell to the floor. My bra followed. He walked me back to the desk, hands cupping my ass, and lifted me up and planted me on the surface with a dull thud.
That was when I noticed the music—faint, pressing up through the floor from the level below. The club still going. The world still turning.
“You’re going to watch me fuck your asshole tonight,” he murmured, pushing me back onto the desk.“And just when you think you can’t take any more, you’re going to come on my cock.”
A threat and a promise in the same breath.
“Fucking my ass won’t provide you with your heir, Mr Dragunov,” I said, raising my red heel and planting it on his pristine white shirt.
He didn’t flinch.
He didn’t remove my foot.
He placed his hand around my ankle and slid it slowly down my leg.
“I like this side of you, Mrs Dragunov,” he murmured, his thumb tracing along my thigh.“New. Bold. And so very sexy.”
“You noticed?” I gasped, pressing both hands to my chest.“I am honoured.”
His hand moved to my belly. The other dragged my foot from his chest up to his shoulder. He leaned over me, lips pressing against my stomach, the prickly texture of his stubble making me shiver against the cold desk beneath me. His tongue traced a slow circle around my belly button before beginning to work its way up.
My back arched to meet him before I had decided to allow it.
“You’re a bad man, Vadim,” I said, breathing a little heavier.
“If I’m so bad, then why do I make your cunt so wet, Iskra?” he murmured as he reached my neck.
His lips traced their way to my ear. Before I could spiral out at the question his tongue moved around my earlobe and short-circuited everything I had been about to say. I grabbed his collar and held on.
“Why do you love getting fucked by someone like me?”
His hot breath fanned over my ear and stayed there, waiting for an answer he already knew. I turned to stare at him.
Anger flared within me.
“Because I’m paid to,” I snapped.
His eyes sharpened and he drew back. Jaw tight. Muscle clenched.
Direct hit.
“Da. You are paid for your services,” he hissed, reaching to pick something off his desk.“Like a filthy whore.”
I relaxed against the desk.
This I could handle.
“I guess that makes my father my pimp and you my client,” I said, my voice cold and hard.
The air between us turned as cold as Chernograd’s ice-locked winters.
