I reach forward to where I think his neck is. When I find it, I pull him to me and jam my mouth against his. His response is immediate, his tongue prying my lips apart and plunging into my mouth, the smoldering fire exploding into an inferno with a shower of sparks.
I cry out when his fingers dip inside my wet, pulsing sex. I grasp his thick hair, my nails biting intohisscalp.
“I like that sound,” he growls, his free hand in my hair, tugging my head back sohecan lick myneck. “I like how badly you want me.”
I like how badly I want him, too. I’m so desperate for his touch, his fingers driving me wild as I drive myself down onto them.
He grips my hair harder—painmixed withpleasure—as he pulls my head back, sohecan ravage my mouth again. At the same time, his fingers work harder, faster, in time to the thrusts of my hips. It’s all over when he adds his thumb, running it over my clit in circles.
I cry out as my orgasm washes over me. I’m shaking and jerking, clinging to him like he’s the only thing grounding me to the earth.
He doesn’t give me a chance to come down from my high. I hear the unzipping of a zipper, and I dig my nails into his back in anticipation. I feel him teasing against my entrance, andfuck, he feelsenormous.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You,” I gasp. “All of you, inside of me. Fucking me hard.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
He pulls my panties off. In one thrust he’s inside of me, every inch raking against every nerve. It’storturous and slow, and I want more. Ineedmore.
He groans, uttering words in Russian. I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him in deeper. Every nerve is on fire, my body burning from the inside out, sparks dancing in front of my covered eyes. I don’t hold back as he starts moving inside of me, pulling out all the way before plunging back in.
Our breathing grows harsher, faster, punctuated by muffled moans and muttered words that mix with my cries. My hands are desperate for something to clutch, to anchor to. The scents of cologne, sex, and musky sweat swirl around me, mixed with wild desire and desperate need.
Words come out of my mouth I didn’t know I knew, sounds I didn’t know I could make. I’ve never been a screamer, but as he drives me higher and higher, my screams only grow in intensity.
He enjoys every bit of it, demanding more of the words I use to beg and plead for him to go harder. I’m so desperately lost in the waves of pleasure crashing over me that I oblige.
My second orgasm is so powerful, I see white stars behind the blindfold.
He gives me one after another,inevery way and position he can mold me into. His Russian accent, his touch, and his musky, dangerous scent envelopes me until, with a roar, he comes inside me, filling me with warmth ashejerks and shudders.
2
CLARA
His hands are like warm velvet against my hypersensitive skin as he coaxes me out of bed. When he guides me to the bathroom, I dig my heels in.
“Wait, what are you doing? I’m not getting into the shower. I worked too hard on my hair and my makeup.”
What I don’t say is that if I walk into Emily’sbacheloretteparty with wet hair and no makeup, she’s going to know instantly that something is amiss.
There is a rumble of laughter. “I believe we’vedone a number on both, but let’s just get cleaned up.”
“Oh, okay.” I hear the sound of running water before he gently guides me into the tub, giving me a slow and sensual sponge bath.
His mouth follows the soft cloth down my neck, over my shoulders, to my breasts. It’s all I can do to hold back themoan building. He takes his time, and I’m savoring every second, but I honestly have no idea how long I’ve been with him, and I’mafraid Emily is going to call her law enforcementfiancéif I don’t show up soon.
A touch of guilt takes over when I remember that I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of her tonight. But I still can’t help but shiver and gasp as he gently cleans me. There is no teasing, no words, just the gentle, methodicalmovementof the cloth interspersed with kisses.
And then, it’s over. He leaves for a beat, then returns and helps me out of the tub, wrapping a plush towel around my shivering body.
“Put your arms up,” he orders, and I do it, feeling the silk of my costume slipping over my arms and then my head before he adjusts it back into place and reties the corset. When I hear the rustling of fabric and the zip of a zipper, I’m surprised at how sad the finality of the sound makes me.
This wild fantasy in the middle of my everyday life is over. I know I’m going to wake up tomorrow morning and wonder if it really happened, or if it was all just a dream. Did Emily plan this? She’s always telling me I need to get out of the office more and have some fun. Did she pay this man—some high-end gigolo—to be my lover for an hour?
But I’m not going to ask. I’m not going to say a word, because then the spell will be broken. And I want to remember this night for a very long time.
