Page 67

Mackensie glances at me once more, nothing readable in it, then he is gone. The heavy door shuts. The apartment settles into that expensive quiet that always feels like it is listening.

Dmitri paces.

The living area is too large for the way his energy is moving. Baroque frames. The table that could seat a war. The window that turns the city into a private screen. It all feels small now that Dmitri is working out his thoughts.

He walks the length of the rug and back again. Shoulders set. Hands empty. The situation is coming to a head. I feel it in the air the way I felt it in the Mercedes before he pulled over…

Tension with nowhere to go except through a body.

I do not ask if he wants comfort. Comfort is not the language this house speaks.

I unbutton my trousers. I shove them down with my briefs in one push and leave them at my knees. The air is cool on my skin and my cock begins to rise. I walk to the living-room glass and press myself against it: palms, cheek, pecs, the city a smear of winter light under me.

I arch my back and offer him my ass.

I do not look over my shoulder.

I do not need to.

Dmitri’s footsteps stop abruptly. Then they come.

“Stay,” he says.

The first smack is his palm, open and hard enough that the sound cracks off the glass.

“Owww,” I say, biting my bottom lip.

I jerk then gather myself.

The second follows before the heat of the first has finished blooming. Dmitri spanks me thoroughly—measured, relentless, the way he does when the lesson is not the count but the fact of it.

My ass burns. My breath fogs the pane and my dick presses up against it. Far below, people who will never know my name cross streets that look arranged from up here.

My Pakhan does not stop until I am shaking and hard and the tension in him has somewhere to land.

Then his hands leave my skin only long enough to open his trousers. The sound of lube being popped open, applied makes me tremble. What follows is an inevitability cast in stone…

My Daddy takes me from behind against the window.

Quick. Hard. No pretty rhythm, just hard cock filling and stretching me. One hand in my hair, the other braced beside mine on the glass.

The city watches and does not care.

I take him. I push back onto him because that is what my body does now when Dmitri decides he needs this.

We climax together. I cum and shoot my load over the window, my mouth open on the thick glass and his name somewhere in my throat as I groan and holler like a wild animal.

I am still trying to find air when the words come out.

“I would do anything,” I say, breathless. “To help my Master. My Pakhan. My Daddy.”

Dmitri stays inside me a second longer as I feel his cock shoot the last remnants of his hot load inside my used ass. Then he leans down and kisses the place between my shoulder blades.

Soft. Sensual. Everything I need.

The contrast is obscene after the spanking and the fuck.

“Whatever happens in this conflict with the Lucci family,” Dmitri says against my skin, “I am glad to have met you.”