"Up," he commands.
I stand on shaking legs. Before I’m fully up, he’s already guiding me backward toward the desk. My hips hit the edge and he lifts me easily, setting me on the polished wood surface.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He yanks down the shorts I’m wearing, along with my panties. “You provoke me so I’ll lose control. So I’ll take what I need from you and then make you come. Brat. I should send you back to your room without an orgasm. Let you spend the day wet with my cum in your belly while you imagine all the things I could have done to you.”
Need. He said need, not want.
"No, I?—"
"Yes. You wanted this. Wanted me to lose control. Wanted to see what would happen if you pushed hard enough." His hands grip my thighs, spreading them wide, and then he drops down to his knees, his mouth pressed between my legs.
The sensation is immediate and overwhelming. His tongue, his lips, the scrape of stubble against sensitive skin—I feel him drag his tongue from my drenched entrance to my clit in one long lick before he slides back down, and I gasp, helpless against the onslaught of pleasure.
I fall back on my elbows, unable to stay upright, unable to do anything except feel. His tongue finds my clit and the pressure is perfect—not too much, not too little, exactly what I need.
"Andrei." I gasp his name. His tongue pushes me to the brink, so close that I’m about to spill over it, and then he leaves my clit, pushing his tongue into me. I let out a high, whimpering sound, bucking my hips as my clit pulses, frustration sweeping through me. “Andrei!”
He ignores the demand, and I know he did it on purpose. I’m right on the edge, and his tongue thrusting inside of me feels good,sofucking good, but it’s not enough. It keeps me right there without the friction to send me over, and I feel my orgasm ebbing, backing off until I’m no longer right on the edge. And he knows when that happens, because as soon as I’m not on the brink, his tongue returns to my clit with that perfect, maddening rhythm.
Twice more, he pushes me to the edge and then backs off. And then, the third time, when his tongue returns to my clit, he pushes two fingers inside of me.
Pleasure explodes through me, so good, so much that I can hardly bear it, the sensations so intense that I can’t bear it if he stops again. I need to come, I need…
"Please." I don't even know what I'm begging for—release, mercy… more.
He gives me all of it.
His fingers curl inside me, finding a spot that makes my vision blur. His tongue moves faster, harder, and then I break.
My orgasm rips through me, arching my back and tensing every muscle in my body. I come hard, crying out his name, my body clenching around his fingers as pleasure crashes through me in waves. And he doesn't stop. He just keeps going, drawing out my orgasm until I'm shaking, and pushing at his head because it's too much, until I'm gasping for mercy.
Only then does he pull back.
He stands, and I can see myself on his face—the evidence of what he just did, what I just let him do. He doesn't wipe it away. He just looks at me sprawled on the desk, panting and disheveled, completely undone.
"This doesn't change anything," he says. His voice is as hard and cold as I’ve ever heard it, full of a sharp, icy satisfaction. The knowledge that he’s won this round. "You're still my captive. I'm still the monster who kidnaps women. And you're still the woman who wants me anyway."
Then he turns and walks out.
The door closes behind him with a soft click, and I'm left alone on his desk, half-naked and trembling, and furious with myself.
Because he's right, about all of it.
I know what he is. Know what he's done. I know that he ordered the kidnapping of an innocent woman and when his men grabbed me instead, he just adjusted his strategy without a second thought.
I know he's a monster, and I want him anyway.
12
ANDREI
Early the next morning, my phone rings. It should wake me, but I’m already awake, staring up at my ceiling. I’ve barely slept. My mind is too full of Liesl, and everything that’s happened between us in the last two days.
I can’t stop seeing her on my sink, sprawled on my desk, on her knees. The sight of her pussy around my cock, her mouth stretched wide as she took me. The way she felt around my fingers, on my tongue.
She’s becoming an obsession, right when I need to be focused, and I can’t stop. She thinks I’m a monster, and she’s right. And I can’t stop wanting to force her to admit that she wants me anyway.
I don’t have time to play games, but this one is so intoxicating that I can’t stop myself from reaching for another hit. I won the last round, and now I want to go again. I want to hear her begging for her monster to make her come again.
