But then again… Kirill is like no other man I have ever met. The way he commands a room without raising his voice. The way he makes me feel small and safe and wildly turned on all at once. The way he looked at me like I was something precious even while he was claiming me so roughly.
I shake my head, still smiling, and tuck the toys away. “You’re turning me into such a naughty Little, Kirill Antonov,” I whisper to the empty room.
* * *
Later, I arrive at my acting class with flushed cheeks and a secret glow I hope no one notices. Skeet is already there, sitting on the edge of the stage swinging his legs. The moment he sees me, his eyes light up with pure mischief.
“Spill,” he demands, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a quiet corner before class starts. “You have that look. The ‘I did something bad and I loved it’ look. Tell me everything about last night.”
I bite my lip, glancing around to make sure no one else is close enough to hear. Then the words tumble out in an excited ramble—the improv show, Marcus Hale showing up, the kiss with Kirill, sneaking into the alley, dropping to my knees andspanking myself while I pleasured him, the way he tasted, the way he called me a good boy and commanded that I pleasure myself too.
Skeet’s eyes grow wider and wider as I continue.
When I finish, my Little friend lets out a delighted squeal and hugs me tight.
“Oh my God, Teddy!” Skeet squeals, struggling to contain his delight. “You sucked him off in an alley after your show? While spanking yourself? And then jacked yourself off for his amusement? That is so hot and so naughty! I’m proud of you, babyboy.”
I laugh, cheeks burning. “It feltinsane. Like… I’ve never done anything that reckless before. But with him it just felt right. He makes me feel so small and wanted at the same time.”
Skeet leans in closer, grinning. “Okay, but tell me more about him. What does he actually do? Is herich-rich? Does he have some mysterious criminal vibe or what? Like, not to be judgmental but we all know the kind of thing that goes down in this city. You keep saying he’s intense, but like… give me details!”
I open my mouth to answer and then freeze.
I realize with a sudden, uncomfortable jolt that I know almost nothing about Kirill’s actual life.
I know he is older, powerful, and commands respect without trying. I know he has a nephew he cares about enough to hire me personally. I know he has connections that can get a producer to show up at my show on short notice.
But beyond that?
His job, his family, where he lives most of the time, what he does every day—it is all a blank.
A flicker of worry settles in my stomach. Kirill is clearly involved in something serious. The way people react to him, the security, the way Bobby shuts down when asked about “family business”. It all points to something dangerous.
Skeet notices my hesitation. “Hey, you okay?”
I force a smile and dust myself down, smoothing my top. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just… realized I don’t actually know that much about his day-to-day life yet. He’s very…private.”
Skeet gives me a knowing look but doesn’t push. “Well, be careful, okay? Hot mysterious older guys are fun until they’re not. But also… enjoy it while it lasts. You’re glowing, babe.”
I nod, pushing the worry aside as the rest of the class starts filtering in. Dermott claps his hands, calling us to attention. I straighten my shoulders, take a deep breath, and step into the familiar rhythm of warm-ups and scene work.
Whatever Kirill is hiding, whatever world he comes from, I will deal with it when the time comes.
For now, I have lines to learn, characters to build, and a future that suddenly feels brighter than it did yesterday.
Even if a part of me is already counting the hours until I see him again.
Chapter 13
Teddy
I am halfway across the street, keys already in my hand and mind still replaying the morning’s acting class, when a sleek black sports car glides up beside me and stops.
The engine purrs like a contented predator and for a moment I’m filled with worry, even though I can’t explain why.
Then passenger window slides down smoothly and my fears are quietened.
Kirill is behind the wheel, one hand resting casually on the gear shift, looking every bit as commanding as he did on my living room floor.
