5: In Which She Takes a Walk Down Memory Lane
By the time the knock at my door resounded at ten to seven, I had just put the finishing touches to my makeup. Orgasms certainly put a spring in a girl’s step. Thoughts of orgasms inevitably brought thoughts of Nikolai – visions of him touching himself last night, visions of him exploding in ecstasy.
Those images – especially of that sexy-as-sin cock-piercing of his – were permanently etched on my mind and I found that I was practically salivating when I pulled open the door…and came face to face with my dad.
I immediately thought of the most unsexy thing I could think of – Danny DeVito in a thong; no wax – and schooled my face into innocent pleasure at seeing my father so early in the morning.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, flashing him a grin he didn’t return. Heat crept up my neck when he wordlessly strode past me, a cloud of his familiar cologne following in his wake. “Is everything OK?” I asked, unable to stifle the note of childish hesitancy in my voice. Devin Shaw just brought that out in me.
“No, Ophelia,” he replied through clenched teeth, standing in the centre of the suddenly matchbox-sized lounge. “Everything is not okay.”
I flinched. “W-what happened?”
A myriad of things flashed through my mind, the first being his discovery of the grown man who’d shown his only daughter that she could come years ago. It was stupid to be afraid of my father’s reaction to my growing sexual attraction to Nikolai Alvonich. Twenty-four – that was what was in my passport, and that was how I was supposed to be treated. Unfortunately, my father hadn’t received that memo.
“Remember when you were nineteen and you totalled Ruby?” Dad’s voice was eerily quiet.
I winced, recalling how Ruby – a gorgeous red Chevy Camaro my dad had restored as a sixteenth-birthday gift to me – had met her untimely demise courtesy of numerous body shots off a college guy I’d met at a bar. I’d been lucky that night, more or less escaping with a few stitches and a wave of regret. One DUI made up my entire criminal record but it wasn’t even potential jail time that had scared me to death; it was my father.
“You disappoint me, Ophelia,” he’d said when he’d come to the police station to fetch me sometime after three. His eyes were brimming with displeasure. “Somehow, I thought you wouldn’t repeat my mistakes. Now wasn’t that naïve of me?”
Disappointment, especially when it was from my father, was a tough pill to swallow. Anger, I could take. Hell, even a beating – but disappointment? It hurt like hell.
He was looking at me like that right now.
“How could I forget? I loved her,” I cautiously replied.
“And didn’t you promise me that there would never be any secrets between us – you, me and Rory?”
I swallowed. “I did.” Why the fuck did I do that?
“Then why,” Dad began, “didn’t you fucking tell me about this?” Before I could even blink, his phone was shoved in my face and I was staring at a black-and-white photograph of me in a Zara Paulsen cocktail dress, tugging a dark-haired man in a suit behind me by the end of his tie.
I stared at the photo – which was an email attachment from Rory – for a second before glaring at my father. “What’s the problem? I’m dressed, aren’t I?”
His caramel skin actually turned a vicious red as he glowered back down at me. “Don’t get sarcastic. You know how I feel about this modelling bullshit!”
“Yeah, and that was okay when I was seventeen and didn’t know any better,” I retorted. “I’m a grown woman now and I don’t need you running my life anymore. What’s more, this was a one-time thing but if I wanted to make it a career, I wouldn’t need you to okay my decision. Marigold Black sends her regards, by the way.”
Dad was grinding his teeth. I held back from reminding him, like Rory always did, that he’d destroy his molars that way. “You want money? God, Ophelia, I’ll give you money. Anything you want. I just don’t want you doing this.” He tapped at the screen to emphasise his point. “You're better than this; better than the entire sordid industry.”
“Stop worrying that I’m going to end up like Natalya,” I said quietly, placing a hand on his arm. It always came back to my birth mother. “Fine, I needed the money,” I confessed. “Things were a little...bad.” I sucked in air. “The shoot was only a month ago and I haven’t accepted other offers but that’s not because of your opinion of whether or not I pose in front of someone’s camera.” I shot him a dark look when he opened his mouth. “I don’t want to be a model. I don’t know what I want to be but Dad, you have to let me figure it out on my own. You can’t charge into my room dictating every time I do something you don’t approve of or agree with.”
He let out an audible sigh. “I guess so. Rory sent me the photo because she thought I’d be proud of you. You understand why I can’t be, right?”
I nodded, trying to smother my frustration. “Of course. I just don’t understand why you continue to treat me like a little girl. Even Calvin gets to live his life however the hell he pleases and he’s only sixteen!”
“You’ll always be my little girl,” was his standard response, and he abruptly pulled me into one of his bear hugs that always threatened to asphyxiate me. “I love you, angel.”
“Can’t...breathe...” I gasped, thumping his back.
Laughing, he released me and I gratefully sucked in air. A knock at the door took the breath right out of me once more when my father went to answer it.
“Kolya!” Dad bellowed, obstructing my view of Nikolai as they shook hands.
“Sleep well, Dev?” Nikolai’s smooth voice shot straight to my gut.
It was slightly disconcerting to note that they were on nickname terms with each other.
“You know I’m used to slumming it these days, so hell, yeah,” my father replied, making light of how he was more often than not camping out with his filming crew whenever he travelled. “So what are you doing here?”
“I’m showing Ophelia the capital,” he told him, and Dad finally stepped aside.
“Yeah, just the capital,” I put in quickly.
Nikolai smirked at me before nodding. If only I could’ve said that I wasn’t affected by the man. Today, in an unbuttoned navy-blue cashmere cardigan with the sleeves rolled up his strong forearms, a black V-necked T-shirt and black form-fitting jeans, he was total eye-candy. There was no way I wasn’t going to drool.
“Ophelia?” Dad was saying, looking at me expectantly.
“Uh, what?” I blinked a few times, dazed.
“I said, have fun,” he said slowly, arching a brow. “I have a Skype session with your mother. Don’t even ask about the time difference; she hasn’t been sleeping.”
Rory was in the process of attempting to write the endings to her mother’s unfinished children’s books. With my dad gone, she had more time to herself but I knew that missing him was distracting, so they compromised with the use of technology.
So that wasn’t what stunned me. No, what shocked me was that he didn’t even question Nikolai’s intentions. My father was stiflingly overprotective and still interrogated anyone of the opposite sex who so much as blinked twice at me.
“I, um, should call her,” I said lamely and, after exchanging a few anecdotes with Nikolai, he exited the room, leaving Nikolai standing in the doorway.
“Great guy,” he commented sincerely, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. He stepped into the room, kicking the door closed behind him with one of his size twelve leather boots. “Now, tell me, what the fuck are you wearing, pussycat?”
I jumped, startled. “Excuse me?” I automatically looked down at the pearl-pink sweater and grey skinny jeans I was wearing. Coupled with my favourite pair of knee length riding boots, I didn’t think I looked too bad. Besides, I’d be damned if I was going to beg for compliments from any man. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“For starters” – he made his way to me – “how am I supposed to touch you when this” – his hands shot out to cup my breasts through the thick material of my sweater – “is in the way?”
I swatted his hands away, furious. “How dare you?”
Puzzled sparkling blue eyes met mine. “Are we fighting this again?”
I spun around and grabbed my handbag before turning to face him again. “Let’s just go. I don’t want anyone else to catch me leaving with you.” I tried to move past him but he was quicker. Before I knew it, my head was jerked up and his mouth crashed against mine.
In a state of shock, my lips parted and Nikolai’s opportunistic little tongue slid inside. His hands were firmly cinched on my waist, ensuring that I didn’t run away, which was redundant because I didn’t want to run. Not when his tongue in my mouth was making me feel so freaking hot downstairs. Moaning, I clung to him, shamelessly rubbing myself against his front like the feline he called me. If he wanted to throw me down right then, I wouldn’t have objected.
But he broke apart from me, slowly sucking on my bottom lip as he did so. “I can’t wait to be inside you,” he said on an exhale, his beautiful eyes dancing. He ran the pad of his thumb across my lower lip. “You look like you want to be fucked. Right...now.”
Did I? I probably did. It had something to do with his filthy mouth. No man had ever spoken to me the way he did, like I was a porn star and he was my pimp. It made me so wet for him.
You’re delusional, O. Extraordinarily crazy, my conscience chided. Sex with this guy – again – would be a huge mistake and you know it.
So I cleared my throat and said the five words no man wanted to hear: “You have a small penis.”
Nikolai was sulking.
I was in the back of his limo, Kid Cudi’s unhurried voice streaming out the speakers, the hilly scenery a blur through the windows – and the country’s second-in-line was squashed up in one corner in an obvious attempt at distancing himself from me. It would’ve been hilarious if I wasn’t so pissed off by his immaturity. Seriously, when he frowned like that, the few tiny laugh lines that creased his face emphasised just how old he was; way too old to be sulking over a comment of the size of his dick.
“I love this song,” I offered, breaking the increasing silence between us.
Nikolai stared out the window, his back rigid.
Irritated, I snapped, “You’re being such a fucking child! Just take me back if this is the way you’re going to behave.”
“You're not going anywhere,” he muttered, “even if you did emasculate me in one breath.”
I sighed with regret. When I’d made the stupid comment, I’d only wanted to put him off me but since it was Nikolai, I’d expected him to make a sarcastic joke and take it lightly. But no, he was brooding. I didn’t like Brooding Nikolai. He wasn’t any fun.
“But you know your dick isn’t tiny. I know your dick isn’t tiny and I can’t believe you’re actually affected by something stupid that I said.”
This time, he looked at me when he asked, “Why don’t you think your opinion matters?”
His piercing eyes focused on me rendered me speechless for a second. “Because you’re you – royalty – and I’m me. Then there’s the little fact that you’re thirty-two. You shouldn’t give a damn about what someone as inexperienced as I am thinks about you.” I paused. “Besides, I just wanted to hurt you.”
“A king that doesn’t give a shít about what his subjects think isn’t a king. He’s a tyrant,” he said sagely, his gaze unwavering. “And my being older doesn’t make me any wiser.” He looked away. “I’m a fucking idiot.”
I chewed on my lower lip. “I’m sorry. That was mean of me. What can I do?”
His eyes swivelled back to me and he arched a brow. “You know what you have to do.”
I watched in horror – and a smidgen of anticipation – as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly.
“I’m not sucking you off,” I hissed, nervously glancing at the tinted glass dividing the backseat from the driver’s. “You can’t be –”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t remember asking you to.” His cock sprang free, as enormous as I remembered it to be from last night. The barbell was still there, winking at me. “Apologise to him, not me.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips. “What?”
“He’s very sensitive,” Nikolai went on, stroking the head, “so laughter might not be a great start, pussycat.”
Dammit, why did it feel so good to be his pussycat once more?
“You’re right,” I conceded, eyes on Nikolai Junior. “I apologise,” I said solemnly.
“Good. Now tell him that he’s the biggest you’ve seen.”
The way Nikolai was lazily stroking himself was highly distracting. This so-called apology had turned into minor foreplay and I found that...well, it was turning me on. There was no other way to phrase it.
“You’re the biggest I’ve ever seen,” I breathed – sincerely, I might add.
“Tell him you get wet just looking at him.”
I clenched my thighs together. “I get wet looking at you. I am wet,” I admitted, sighing at the sight of the liquid glistening at the fat head of Nikolai’s cock.
He groaned, the pad of his thumb capturing the pre-cum and massaging it into the veined flesh. “Look at me now, kotik,” he rasped, and I did. His eyes were hazy, darkened blue orbs that were blatantly undressing me. “Tell him you can’t wait to fuck him; can’t wait to have him buried so deep in your hot cunt you’ll be choking on him.”
That sounded so unbelievably nice.I let out a desperate whimper. “Can’t wait to fuck you... Want you buried in my cunt...”
Nikolai leaned back in his seat, quivering as he palmed himself. “Whose name will you be screaming, pussycat? Whose?” he demanded, his slight accent making the words sound doubly sexy.
“Yours,” I whispered, wishing I had worn something with easy access. “Your name.”
“Say it,” he growled, squeezing the base of his hard-on. It felt like he was choking me; all the air in my lungs left me. “Say my name.”
“Nikolai,” I croaked, keeping my legs firmly shut. The throbbing between them was fast becoming unbearable. “Nikolai, Nikolai, Nikolai...”
Throwing his head back, he stiffened. “Oh, fuck!” he snarled, before spattering semen all over his big hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” His heavy breaths filled the air as Day and Night faded into Lotus Flower Bomb. Squeezing his eyes shut, he smirked. “I know I have a big dick, Ophelia. I don’t need any validation on that particular front,” he drawled, opening his eyes and fixing his stare on me. “It was just worth it to hear you say such dirty things to me.”
“You’re such an ass,” I sputtered, feeling like a total fool. Of course men like Nikolai freaking Alvonich would never feel insecure about what was between his legs. They knew they were hung like a horse from the day they came into the world. I had stupidly fed his already mammoth ego and let him know how big of an effect he had on me.
He laughed, reaching for a box of Kleenex to clean himself up. Before he could wipe his hand with a handful, I reached out and took it, taking him by surprise in the process and cutting his laughter short.
“You” – I brought his thumb to my lips and sucked on it, astonished by how good the salty tang of his cum actually was – “are” – his forefinger was next – “never” –his middle finger followed – “getting” – then came his ring finger – “inside” – I sucked on his pinkie, finally meeting his wide eyes – “me.” I punctuated this by going in for the kill and licking his sticky palm, the dampening in my panties worsening at the sexy sound of his soft groans.
Dammit, I even liked the taste of his cum. When was this madness going to end?
“There,” I murmured when all traces of his juices were gone and I could still taste him on my tongue. I released his hand. “All clean.”
Nikolai stared at it like it was something foreign before regarding at me curiously. “Where’d that come from?”
I shrugged, because I really didn’t know.
“Because you know,” he began, gently cleaning Nikolai Junior up, “if your goal was to make me not want to fuck you, you need to rethink your strategy.”
The rest of the long car ride was in a different kind of silence.
I was too busy arguing with my conscience about whether it would just be better to fuck Nikolai and get him out my system. I mean, we’d been together once before. Granted, it had been in the dark, we’d both thought the other was someone else and I’d just gotten out of high school – but that didn’t change the fact that he was responsible for the only orgasms I’d had in my short and pathetic sex life. He didn’t need to know that little piece of information but I knew it; would always know it and therefore he was some kind of sex god in my depraved mind.
My conscience was the voice of reason that said he was just too much for me to handle but a different voice – which sounded disturbingly like Lady Gaga – said he was exciting and the type of fling I’d look back on with fond memories after I’d settled down, preferably shortly after my thirtieth birthday. My Gaga-voice was a total jezebel.
Nikolai’s gentle baritone tugged me from my reverie. I hadn’t even noticed that the limo was stationary and that the landscape had merged into a concrete jungle, albeit old-fashioned. Ruslavia was backward in some places but the capital, Drevniy, was only slightly modernised. Mikhail had once said that the little villages were what made the capital.
We were obviously in an area that hadn’t heard of Steve Jobs and microwaves.
“Where’s here exactly?” I asked, surprised that I could look Nikolai in the eye.
He gifted me with one of his grins that made him look like a little kid. “You have to get out first.”
The door on my side was pulled open and Nikolai’s bodyguard, who’d introduced himself as Lev, stepped back to allow me out. Shaking my head, I slid out into the chilly morning air, grateful that I’d worn a sweater.
The limo was right in the middle of a narrow street; a cobbled lane that was probably only used by pedestrians on a daily basis. Kids of all ages were already playing outside, their laughter echoing in the air. Huge, rundown brick buildings ran along the road in the style of apartment blocks. Women hung laundry on makeshift washing lines out on their tiny balconies, curiously peeking down at the white over-the-top vehicle in their street.
It was then that I noticed that Nikolai had come around to stand beside me, gauging my reaction.
“It’s beautiful,” I told him, meaning it. “Where are we?”
“Kroya,” he replied, taking my hand. “It’s the closest village to the castle and the biggest one in Drevniy.”
“Do you come here often?” I asked, ignoring the way he was slowly rubbing the inside of my wrist with his deft fingers.
He grinned, squeezing my hand in his. “Are you coming on to me, Miss Shaw?”
“I do,” he said, his voice serious. Clearing his throat, he turned to Lev and let out a stream of his native language, receiving a nod of acknowledgement from the bulkier man when he was done.
Lev returned to the limo and before I knew it, the car sped right past us, disappearing down the road.
It wasn’t that I was a little apprehensive about being stranded in a foreign place with no way of leaving; it was that I was apprehensive about being stranded with Nikolai.
I pulled my hand out of his, pretending I needed to adjust the bottom of my sweater. “I need to get back before noon.”
“Do you, now?” His voice was annoyingly casual as he took the lead. “Stay close, princess.”
Me? A princess? I snorted, trying to match his long strides.
“The people here are farmers that live on nothing but what they grow themselves,” Nikolai informed me. “There’s no Wal-Mart conveniently located on the next corner.”
“Why are you speaking to me like that?” I snapped, incensed by his condescending tone. “I’m not the one that looks out at them from a glass house.”
He stopped walking. “If I had my way, things in my country would be different. Unfortunately, I’m not the king, so I –”
“I know,” I cut in softly, literally winded by the cerulean-eyed look of pure joy he gave me. “No offense, but your brother’s a dickhead. I think you're a good forty-percent less of a dick than he is.”
Nikolai threw his head back and let out a genuine, slap-your-knee laugh. “You're something else,” he choked out, taking me by complete surprise when he yanked me into his arms. I slammed into the unyielding wall of his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne. “I like that you're not afraid of speaking your mind,” Nikolai murmured into my hair, one hand dangerously low on my back. “But you shouldn’t call the king a penis in public. The walls have ears, myshka.”
As if on cue, a mob of little children came barrelling in our direction and Nikolai pulled away from me, turning to meet them head-on. They obviously knew and worshipped him, judging from their animated faces and equally animated voices as they greeted him. Nikolai crouched down low, receiving an eager hug from each child, sometimes two at a time. Laughing, he’d ask them questions in their language and listen intently to their responses. It was incredible to watch and increasingly difficult to associate this Nikolai with PantyDropper.
When he actually sat down, holding court right in the middle of the street, I felt the same kind of pang I usually felt when I watched my father do something remarkably altruistic.
“Come sit with me, myshka,” Nikolai urged, patting a spot beside him. “They think you're beautiful. As do I.”
I flushed a deep red under the awed stares of a dozen or so kids. “How do you say thank you in Ruslavian?”
“It’s almost like Russian. Stasibe.”
“Stasibe,” I echoed, plopping down beside him. Even seated he towered over me. “Thank you.”
The minute I was on the ground, an adorable raven-haired girl claimed my lap. She was a waiflike creature, all big, green eyes and pale skin that stretched across sharp bones. She weighed close to nothing.
“This is Asya,” Nikolai enlightened me, tucking a mass of her long, dark hair behind a tiny ear. “She’s six.”
Six? I gingerly wrapped an arm around her waist, afraid to snap her in two. To be honest, she looked like a four-year-old; she was that tiny.
“Hello, Asya. I’m Ophelia,” I said cheerfully, winded when she fixed her big green eyes on me. For the first time ever, I heard a ticking sound inside me; the unmistakable sound of my biological clock. God, I wanted this little girl. “You're so beautiful,” I rambled on, gingerly rubbing at a smudge of what looked like coal on her cheekbone. “Like a…kotik.”
Asya smiled at that, making a soft purring sound in the back of her throat. I laughed.
“Do you want children?”
I had totally forgotten about the man sitting beside me. Looking at him was a big mistake because that meant I had to look into his eyes. Those fucking things were lethal.
“I think so,” was my answer to his very personal question. “Do you?”
“A soccer team of them,” he replied, his lips curving into a smile. “Substitutes, coaches – an entire team.” His smile became a leer. “God, I want you, Ophelia.”
We were surrounded by minors and he was saying something like that as if it were normal. This man didn’t know the meaning of appropriate.
“Stop it, Nikolai,” I warned, my sweater becoming uncomfortably oppressive.
He winked at me. “I should.” He turned his attention back to his rapt audience of under-tens and I busied myself with attempting to communicate with the little girl I was thinking of abducting.
How could King Mikhail live in such opulence when innocent kids like Asya were clearly starving? What kind of a king was he if he didn’t put his own people first? Even now, he was gallivanting through Moscow with his cradle-snatched wife, uninterested in wedding preparations for his only child’s wedding.
I noticed that Nikolai was already on his feet, reaching down to lift Asya up so I could get up as well.
“There’s so much I want to show you,” he was saying, pressing a soft kiss on the little girl’s head before setting her down on her own two feet.
“Why isn’t anyone doing anything?” I blurted out, noticing how almost all the kids looked like they didn’t get three meals each day. “Can’t you –”
Nikolai reached out, cupping my face and rubbing my cheeks. “Don’t cry, pussycat,” he said gruffly, showing me his glistening thumbs. He kissed each cheek in turn. “I send people out here once a week with the necessities. It’s the best I can do with my resources.”
“Okay,” I whispered, still not completely convinced.
Someone was tugging at the bottom of my jumper. Looking down, I was once again blown away by the biggest pair of emerald-green eyes I’d ever seen. Squatting, I cocked my head to listen to her, prepared for a spiel of Ruslavian, but her heavily-accented murmur was in English.
“Do you like the prince?”
Stunned, I blinked a couple of times, so she slowly repeated her question, thinking I hadn’t understood the first time because of her accent.
“Hmm, yes. I like him,” I replied vaguely.
Asya leaned in and whispered, “I like you. Maybe you love one day.”
What the hell did a six-year-old know about love? What did I know about love?
“No, gorgeous. We’re just friends,” I let her know, before pulling her into a hug. “I like you, too.”
Afterwards, when Nikolai was walking me down the different narrow streets, pointing out landmarks, he asked me what Asya had said. Surprisingly, my face didn’t heat up as I lied.
We turned a corner, encountering a street of empty, dilapidated buildings that weren’t fit for residence. They were crumbling in places and the street was filled with litter, the cause of the unbearable stench. Where there was garbage, rats were sure to be and as I thought this, a blur of grey scampered past us.
Maybe he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere.
He reached for my hand, tugging me behind him as he made his way into an apartment block at the far end of the cobbled lane. It was dank inside; dank and dark.
“This is where I grew up,” he said, his voice soft. He pushed open the wooden door of the one flat at the bottom of the stairs. “In this very room.”
It was a poor excuse for a bachelor flat. The light streaming through the glassless windowpanes revealed that there was barely any room to turn around, let alone –
“My mother was a seamstress – not a wh0re like most people believe, but the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.” Nikolai let me go, stepping over a puddle to cross the room. “The king at that time – Mikhail the First – played around but when he met my mother, he promised her the world. All he gave her was a baby she couldn’t support.”
I followed him to the windows, waiting for him to continue.
“What’s funny is that he was genuinely in love with her but at the end, when she died, she was just another conquest.” He stuck a hand in the pocket of his jeans. “So when I was eight, he acknowledged that I was his and I went to live with him. Of course, by that time, my half-brother was already a grown man and was confident I had no claim to the throne, which was why he’s been so accepting. In fact, he fucking raised me.” He turned to look at me. “You understand why I can’t really hate him, right?”
I swept a curl of his dark hair out of his face. “I do.”
He grabbed my wrist, turning his face into my hand and kissing my palm. “I don’t know why I brought you here. Misha’s never even been to this place.”
“I guess that makes me special, then,” I said lightly, shivering when his butterfly kiss became open-mouthed.
“You’ve been special, kotik.” He jerked me to him. “Kiss me like we’re fucking.”
My knees buckled. Seriously, this man was deadly. When I didn’t comply – only because I needed to collect myself – he growled menacingly, dipping his head in and bending slightly to accommodate our height difference. His mouth attacked mine with a ferocity that sent heat up and down my body, centring at my apex. I felt his arousal press into my lower belly and, on impulse, reached in between us to stick my hand down his pants. He jerked into my hand; hard, hot and heavy.
“You don’t behave like a prince,” I exhaled, moaning when nibbled on my lower lip.
“You don’t behave like a celebrity,” he groaned in response, allowing me to stroke him.
I almost let out an unladylike snort. “I’m not a celebrity.”
“I’m not a prince,” he countered, cupping my ass in his hands. He spun me around, pushing me up against the mouldy wall. “I’m going to be in this little ass soon,” he said roughly, smacking my right butt cheek. I squealed in surprise. “You haven’t been fucked here, have you, little cat?” He stroked the tingling globe through the thick fabric of my jeans.
“No,” I gasped, my cheek pressed against the wall.
Nikolai pressed himself into the split between my butt cheeks. “Unbutton yourself.”
Here? He wants to fuck me in this very room?
Slowly, I unbuttoned my jeans before dragging the zip down. Nikolai reached around me, his arms settling around my waist as he dipped two fingers into the wet heat of my cunt.
“Ah, shit,” I wheezed, leaning back into him as he explored my insides.
“That’s right, myshka,” he was whispering in my ear as a finger circled my swollen clitoris. “I make you wet, don’t I?”
“Uh-huh,” was all I could manage.
“Only me. Say it.”
“Only…you,” I breathed on a shudder, pressing my own hand against his to increase the pressure inside me.
“Only who?” he demanded, dragging me dangerously close to Orgasm Canyon.
“Nikolai,” I panted, rocking into his hand. “Only…Nikolai.”
“Excellent,” he declared, withdrawing his fingers. I let out garbled curses because come on, I’d been so close! “Don’t forget that,” he continued, zipping me up. “Because I’ve waited long enough and tonight, I will have you.”
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