“Shhh.” A slow, devastating smile curves his mouth. Wait. He’s not mad?
I’m unsure what to do next, but he makes the decision for me.
“Look at you, so needy. Desperate to come.” His gaze drops, taking in my flushed skin and heaving chest. “So on edge.”
Liquid heat pools low in my belly and my pulse hammers between my legs where I straddle him. I should put distance between us and regain some semblance of composure. But his hand on my jaw is an anchor, and I’m not sure I want him to let go.
“I want to watch you fall apart and know I’m the one who made you lose control.” He presses his face into my neck and inhales deeply. “Are you going to let me touch you?”
He pulls back and searches my face. This is my chance to say no, to be strong, but instead, I give him a small nod.
“Good girl. Now grind that pretty pussy on my cock until you come all over me.”
His hand grips my ass hard while the other wraps around my hair, tugging until my head tips back. He holds me in place and rocks his hips up with enough force to make me gasp.
Holy shit. He’s rock-hard, and when he grinds against my clit, stars burst behind my eyes.
It would be easier to resist him if he wasn’t so damn sexy, if he wasn’t demanding my body surrender to his control. But this close, he’s overwhelming. Gorgeous in a dangerous way.
I’ve always been drawn to bad boys, but Kirill isn’t playing at danger. He was born into darkness. Lives in it. That makes him a different beast entirely.
He doesn’t give me time to steady myself before he thrusts again, grinding against my core while his mouth closes over my breast. His tongue circles my nipple before he sucks hard, drawing the peak deep into his warm mouth.
My back arches, hands flying to his shoulders for balance. He rolls the hardened bud between his teeth, and every coherent thought evaporates.
The pressure building low in my belly intensifies with every grind of his hips and every pull of his mouth. His fingers tangle in my hair and tug. The sharp sting sends electricity straight through me, and I rock against him harder, chasing the release that’s building.
His hand comes down on my ass. The sharp slap pushes me over the edge. A scream rips from my throat as the orgasm tears through me, white-hot and all-consuming.
His mouth crashes against mine, swallowing the sound. The kiss is rough and claiming, his tongue pushing past my lips like he owns me. And for this moment, he does. I open for him, gasping against his mouth as my body convulses.
He tastes like whiskey and sin, and when his tongue strokes against mine, it sends another shockwave through me. His teeth catch my bottom lip, tugging hard enough to sting, and I moan into his mouth.
I’m dripping wet, probably soaking through the thin fabric of my panties and onto his pants. Our releases mix together between us in a mess that should mortify me, but makes everything hotter. Filthier.
When the last tremor fades, reality crashes back in.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to keep this professional. The point of a lap dance is to tease, to tempt, to leave them wanting more. Not to hump them to orgasm.
Shame coats my skin as I slide off his lap. With my back to Kirill, I grab my corset. I can’t look at him. Can’t face whatever he’s thinking right now.
My hands shake from the aftershocks rippling through me, and the laces keep slipping through my fingers as I try to fasten it back up.
Behind me, his gaze burns into my back. I’m hyperaware of his presence. Of how the air crackles when he’s close. How the room smells like sex and him and me all tangled together.
“Let me help you.” His voice cuts through my thoughts, and I freeze.
“I can do it myself,” I protest, but my hands are useless.
“I don’t think you can. Let me.”
Jesus, Dinara, pull it together.
My body obeys because apparently he has that effect on me. I present my back to him, holding the corset against my achybreasts. A reminder that he had his mouth on me minutes ago. That I let him touch me. That I desperately wanted him to.
He finishes the lacing, fingers trailing down my spine in a whispered contact more intimate than everything that came before.
“Turn around,” he rumbles in my ear.
