My brain stutters. He’s wearing his customary immaculate pale grey suit and polished shoes. His eyes are dark as he regards me.
Oh. God.
I freeze. Unable to close my legs, or turn off the vibrator, or even take my finger from my pussy.
“Because it looks like you need a bit of help,” he continues.
“What are you doing here?” Because I’ve observed his movements over four days. It’s early afternoon, and he’s never returned upstairs before eight in the evening.
“You didn’t think I keep tabs on what goes on in my own bedroom?” He tilts his chin up arrogantly. “I have a live feed to my phone. I saw you as soon as you walked in.”
My cheeks flame. He saw everything. All my clumsiness, and the way I rolled around on his bed, breathing in the smell of him.
“It’s rude to watch.” I intend to sound aloof, but it comes out as a squeak.
“It’s rude to start without your partner.”
“This toy is my partner.” I lift the little rose and I’m amazed at my own daring. “Not you.” He has ignored me and walked away from me for four days. He kidnapped me. He doesn’t get to just wander in and crook his finger.
“You came to my bedroom.” He unbuttons his suit jacket at a leisurely pace, shrugs out of it as he stalks towards me. He tosses the expensive garment onto the far side of the bed and stands over me and he’s a stark silhouette with a dark background. He’s an avenging angel. A sinister villain. A fae lord. He looks down, taking in everything from my naked toes to my no-doubt flushed face.
I can’t move. I thought I was turned on before, but Artem regarding me, heat in his eyes, is next level.
“You’re on my bed, legs spread, pink cunt exposed for me, and soaking wet. I think that makes you my toy, kisa.”
An actual, for real, can’t-help-it, whimper escapes me. My hips roll, and my clit pulses, despite the fact the toy isn’t on it.
Leaning across me, his gaze flicks between my eyes and my lips. Which are in a little “o” as I pant. He lowers his head so slowly I’m not sure it’s really happening. Perhaps I’m hallucinating what I want most in the world. He might be moving gradually, but he’s insistent. His lips touch mine, then press, then insist I open more to him as his tongue invades my mouth. Desire flares through me. It’s sweet and dirty and taking this kiss, like walking into the calm sea and finding the sand slopes away and you’re on tip-toes, being pulled by a current much stronger than you could ever be, dragged deeper until you’re swimming for your life. Except I’m not swimming towards shore. Nope.
I’m tangling my fingers—sticky with my juices—into his hair to hold him to me.
“Mmm. That’s it,” he murmurs into my mouth, then breathes in. The mattress depresses as he kneels on the bed. A nudge to my thigh and he’s between my knees. Taking my hand from the back of his head, he pulls himself free, rears up and holds my wrist as he brings my fingers to his mouth. For each fingertip in turn, he sucks them clean.
“Delicious.” His voice is a rumble and I’m helpless. Under his spell. This started with me trying—I admit it—to get his attention.
Well, I have it all now, and I love it.
He stretches over me, grabs a pillow and lifts my shoulders until I’m propped up, then plucks the vibrator from my hand. I let him, like I’m a doll.
Kneeling between my open thighs, he skims his palm over my knickers, holding my gaze all the time.
“And you’re wet too. These are soaked. Did you choose somewhere comfortable to get yourself this worked up?”
I make a noise that could be denial or agreement. I don’t even know myself.
The fabric tugs, then rips between his hands and he carelessly shoves the broken lace scrap into his pocket. The air on my sex emphasises how bare I am. How exposed. And my treacherous body loves it.
He holds my gaze. The pleasure as he slides the toy through my folds makes me jerk, then my back arches as it touches my clit and I choke a scream.
“Eyes on me.”
I hadn’t realised I had closed them, but when I blink up at him, a smug smile hitches the corner of his mouth. He smooths his palm over my inner thigh, closer with every stroke until he gets to where I’m wet. Soaked. His forefinger pushes at my entrance as he continues to circle the vibrator over my clit.
“Nice and tight,” he comments with an approving nod.
A gentle slide in, but like his kiss, it’s insistent and within a moment he’s in me up to the knuckle. A withdrawal, and a second finger advances, stretching me open, and I gasp.
The vibration is as unrelenting as his dark gaze.
“Palm your breasts.”
I obey, skimming my thumbs over my nipples, and it multiplies the pleasure somehow, doubling it, tripling it. This is what I wanted earlier, and couldn’t do it for myself. I needed him.
He begins to slide his fingers out and I moan with bliss and frustration until he thrusts them back into me.
I’m so close to orgasm.
“Roll your nipples.” His rough voice is another layer on my arousal, and I do that too. He’s pumping his fingers into me now, the vibrator rocking over my clit.
“So pretty. You’re taking me beautifully. Your pink folds are gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything so lovely. Come on my fingers.”
I break. Probably it’s a coincidence, but as he tells me, my clit spasms and pleasure crests. I clench on Artem’s fingers so hard pain mixes with the desire. He removes the vibrator from my clit and it’s almost a relief to drop back down.
Then he’s next to me, the vibrator turned off and tossed away, and he’s kissing my neck as the orgasm recedes, leaving me more satisfied than I can remember. Boneless.
“That was excellent,” he croons. “You’re my good girl. But I need you to have another orgasm for me.”
I choke on my own breath. What? “I can’t!”
His fingers are still inside me and he continues to slide them in and out, oh so slowly.
“The first one was for you. Now, this is for me.”
“I’ve never…” I’ve never come twice in a row. That’s what I don’t tell him. I’m way too embarrassed to say to this hot, older, experienced man that I’m a virgin who has never had more than one orgasm at a time.
“Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?”
I bite my lip to stop the instinctive response. Yes.
By kissing my neck—how did I not know about neck kisses until now?—he makes me weak. I’m a puddle, completely his, ready to pour into whatever form he desires. I’m basically a hot melted jelly.
“Don’t you want to be my best girl?”
I want to be his only girl.
Now he’s rubbing just inside my passage and oh god that feels amazing. Like sparkles. Despite my silence I can feel pleasure gradually spiralling upwards.
Impossibly.
“You’ll make me so proud of you, kisa. I know you can come for me again.” His thumb starts with slow brushes below my clit, and yes. Yes, that’s incredible. My clit is still too sensitive, but where he’s touching me is the right side of too much, the precipice.
“Tell me.”
I let out a juddery breath and shake my head, but I don’t know what I’m saying. No, I don’t want it? I do. No, I won’t speak it aloud? No, I don’t want to disappoint him by not being able to come?
I think it’s that last one.
He stops moving his fingers, starting to move away, and I chase him. Without thought, my hips shift of their own accord.
“Uh-uh.” His hand is suddenly on my lower belly, holding me down. “Say it and I’ll make you come like a good girl should.”
“Yes, sir.” The words are out of my mouth, led by my pussy not my brain. I want this, despite the doubts. I’m now beyond little considerations like dignity and reality. Give me the crazy train. I need him to be proud of me.
“That’s my good girl.” There’s a rasp of his stubble on my cheek as he smiles, then the cool of air as he’s gone. The next thing I know, all the squidgy grey matter goes from my head. It’s just air and tumbleweed inside my skull as he holds my thighs apart and takes a long, luxuriating lick. Like I’m an ice cream.
“Your honey is delicious,” he murmurs before licking me again. A second later, his fingers ease back into me, a light stroke to my inner walls at first. I’m so wet, utterly messy, and I’m just as he said: his toy to play with. He switches easily from licks to sucks to my clit and firm thrusts of his fingers and I bow with the intensity.
And the intimacy. He grunts, sounding pleased, as he uses his mouth to drive me into pleasure and squeezes my hip possessively.
With infinite patience, he beckons my orgasm to him. This one is his, just as he promised. He lures the desire with sweet words dispersed with filthy touches. He eats my pussy like he adores the taste, and tells me he loves it. Tells me my cunt is the best thing he’s ever tasted, and he can’t get enough.
I’m shaking, head to foot, already. My hands clutch the sheets helplessly. I’m vibrating like I’m his instrument and he’s my musician.
“Give me one more,” he coaxes. “You can do it, kisa, one more orgasm for me. You’re being my best girl, don’t stop now.”
Then his mouth is back on my clit, and I tip over into the longest throbs of pleasure I’ve ever felt.
I scream, and sob, and I think I kick because he holds my legs down. This climax is drawn from me with a steel hand in a velvet glove. It has snuck up on me and now I’m drowning in the pulses that go on and on. Where the earlier one was high and almost sharp, a quick wave, this is a current, a tide. It’s broad. It flows from my core right down to my toes.
I think I black out.
When I come to, the first thing I’m aware of is the blood zinging around my body. I feel more alive than I ever have before, and yet there’s an ache between my legs. I’m still empty.
Wait—I’m alone.
Blinking against the light, I find my knees are together, my skirt down over my thighs. A whisper of cloth, and I see Artem standing at my side. He leans over and brushes his knuckles down my cheek.
“Brat,” he says affectionately, eyes soft. “I need to get back to work, but was that what you wanted?”
He has his suit jacket on and yeah, he does look about to leave me here alone.
All the fuzzy contentment in my body abruptly drains away. My heart tears. That was just an interlude to him, whereas it has rearranged my whole world.
How dare he treat me this way?
“I want you to let me go,” I hiss, the hurt firing into anger.
His expression shutters, the playful indulgence gone. “No.”
“You can’t keep me here, doing nothing!” I clench my fists.
And while he could justify that I have everything in the world I could want—specifically the space and time to write, which is precisely what I told him I wanted—he nods slowly. Dragging in a breath, he exhales in a rush.
“From now on, you’ll have dinner with me. Every night.”
