Chapter 7 #2
"It's just sex, Olek." I tried to get him to refocus on the reason we were here. To keep the confusion out of things. I didn’t want to have to worry about him catching feelings or becoming attached. This was what this was.
"Is it?" He moved toward me slowly and predatory. "Because your pulse is racing. Your pupils are dilated. And you've been thinking about this all day."
"So have you, apparently." I muttered.
"Every fucking second." He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel his heat. "Couldn't concentrate in the meetings. Mikhail asked, if I was sick."
"What did you tell him?"
"That I was distracted." His fingers found the zipper of my dress. "Didn't mention it was because I kept imagining you like this. In my room. Wearing this dress with nothing underneath."
He pulled the zipper down slowly, the sound loud in the quiet. The dress slipped off my shoulders, pooled at my feet. Leaving me completely naked. His sharp intake of breath made me shiver.
"Katrina." My name was a prayer. A curse. Something that felt like it was a confession. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Dramatic."
"Honest." He traced his fingers down my sternum, between my breasts, over my stomach. "I want to memorize every inch of you."
"You have ninety days."
"Not nearly enough." He dropped to his knees in front of me, and the sight of this powerful, dangerous man kneeling put me in awe. "Spread your legs."
I did, my breath coming faster. He leaned in and kissed my hip bone. My stomach. The inside of my thigh.
"Olek—" I sighed, feeling like this was too much. I appreciate the pleasure that he gave me last night. Right now, I needed him to understand that it was better if we fucked and I left.
"Patience." His breath ghosted over my center, making me tremble. "I'm savoring this."
"You savored last night."
"I'm greedy." He looked up at me, eyes dark. "And you taste too good to rush."
Then his mouth was on me, and I forgot how to form words. He took his time, licking and sucking and exploring like he had all night. Like my pleasure was the only thing that mattered. His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady when my knees went weak.
"Olek, please—" I didn’t know if I was begging for release or for him to get on with it, to not be so gentle and thoughtful. When I’d agreed to this, I’d expected it to be cold and distant.
Something that I checked off the list. He was making it about what I needed and getting me off–my orgasms seemed to be his motivation.
That could easily become addictive. No, sir.
"Not yet." He pulled back, and I whimpered at the loss. "On the bed. I want you comfortable for this."
I climbed onto the mattress, my body already trembling with need. He followed, still fully dressed, which seemed deeply unfair.
"Take off your shirt," I demanded. Hoping to pull him further into the moment.
His eyebrow rose. "Giving orders now?"
"You've seen me naked already. It's only fair." I insisted.
"Fair." He pulled the henley over his head in one smooth motion. "There. Happy?"
Shit, I was very happy. God, his body was ridiculous—all muscle and scars and raw masculinity. I’d forgotten how much seeing his chest had pleased me.
"Better," I managed.
"Your turn to give me something." He settled between my thighs again. "Touch yourself."
I froze. "What?"
"I want to watch you touch yourself." His eyes were locked on mine. "Show me how you like it."
"I don't—I mean … Olek, listen—"
"You do. Everyone does." He kissed my inner thigh. "Don't be shy, Katrina. Show me."
This was beyond the contract. Beyond anything I'd imagined. But the way he looked at me, like I was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen—Slowly, I slid my hand down my stomach.
"That's it," he encouraged. "Keep going."
I touched myself tentatively, my fingers finding my clit. Pleasure shot through me, encouraging me to continue playing his game.
"Good girl." His voice was rough. "Don't stop."
I circled my clit, watching his face as I did. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on where my hand moved.
"Faster," he said. "I want to see you get close."
I obeyed, my fingers moving in the rhythm I knew would get me there. But it wasn't enough. It never was when I did it myself. I needed—
"Please," I whispered.
"Please what?"
"Touch me. I need—I need you to—"
"Since you asked so nicely." He replaced my hand with his mouth, and I nearly came off the bed.
His tongue was everywhere at once—circling my clit, dipping inside me, licking and sucking until I was gasping his name. He slid two fingers inside, curling them just right, and I grabbed his hair.
"That's it," he murmured against me. "Pull my hair. Show me what you need."
I did, guiding him exactly where I wanted, and he followed my lead perfectly. Like he was learning my body, memorizing what made me gasp and moan and shake. Fuck–no. I hissed, but my desires demanded to be sated.
"Olek, I'm going to—"
"Come for me." He sucked my clit hard. "Come all over my tongue."
I shattered, crying out his name, my whole body trembling with the force of it. He worked me through it, gentler now, until I was boneless and trembling.
"Three," he said, kissing up my body. "We're getting better at this."
"You're keeping count?"
"I'm keeping track." He captured my mouth in a kiss, and I tasted myself on him again. "Want to see how many I can wring out of you before you pass out."
"That's not—oh—"
His fingers were inside me again, moving slowly, teasingly.
"Still so wet," he murmured. "Think you can give me another?"
"I don't … I can't—"
"You can." He kissed down my neck, found my breast. "I'll make sure of it."
His mouth closed around my nipple while his fingers worked inside me. The dual sensation was overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once.
"Olek!"
"I've got you." His thumb found my clit. "Just let go."
But I didn't want to just take. Didn't want to be the only one falling apart. I reached for his jeans, fumbling with the button.
He caught my wrist. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" I got the button open, started on the zipper. "I want to touch you."
"Katrina—"
"You've had your mouth on me twice now." I freed him from his jeans, and Christ, he was big. Thick and hard and already leaking at the tip. "My turn."
I wrapped my hand around him, and he groaned, his head falling forward.
"Fuck."
"Is this okay?" I stroked him, base to tip, watching his face.
"It's," he swallowed hard, "yes. God, yes."
I stroked him again, firmer this time, and he thrust into my hand. His control was fracturing, I could see it in the tension of his shoulders, the way his breathing became ragged.
"Katrina, if you keep doing that—"
"What? You'll come?" I twisted my wrist on the upstroke. "Good. I want to see it."
"Not yet." He pulled away, breathing hard. "Not until I'm inside you."
Oh. Oh.
"Tonight?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Because I needed to feel him inside me. I needed to see if he could fuck me as well as he got me off with his mouth.
"Tonight." He kicked off his jeans, finally, completely naked. "If you want to. We can stop. We can wait. But…" He cupped my face. "I need you, Katrina. Need to be inside you. Need to feel you come around me. Need to come inside you. Fill you up."
I should say no. Should slow this down. Should remember that this was just a transaction.
Because things had shifted. I didn’t want him inside me because he was paying to be.
Right now I wanted him inside because I ached for him.
I was tired of what should happen and ready for what was about to happen.
"Yes," I said. "I want—yes."
Something blazed in his eyes. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
He kissed me hard, and hungry, then reached for the nightstand. Pulled out a paper.
"Clean bill of health," he said, showing me the lab results. "Got them back this morning."
I scanned the paper. Everything negative. All clear.
"Okay," I breathed.
"And you're on birth control?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"Show me."
I leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed my purse from where I'd dropped it. Found the pill pack and held it up.
He studied it, then nodded. "Good."
Then he was kissing me again, settling between my thighs, and I felt him there—hot, hard, and perfect.
"Last chance to change your mind," he murmured against my mouth.
"Stop talking and fuck me already."
He laughed, surprised and delighted. "There she is. There's my sharp-tongued girl."
Then he pushed inside slowly and steadily, and I forgot how to breathe.
He was big—bigger than I'd expected, bigger than anyone before. Or maybe it was because it’d been a while since I’d had sex.
I knew I was tighter, and he was stretching me to fit his girth.
His delightful curve. The stretch burned in the best way, making me gasp and arch and dig my nails into his shoulders.
"Breathe," he said, pausing halfway. "You're so tight. Need you to relax for me."
I tried. Focused on breathing. On the feeling of him inside me, filling me, stretching me perfectly.
"That's it." He pushed deeper. "Taking me so well. So fucking perfect."
When he was fully seated, we both went still. His eyes focused on mine, our breaths mingling.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Yeah." More than okay. I felt complete. Whole. Like something I didn't know was missing had clicked into place. "Move. Please move."
He did. Slow at first, long strokes that had me gasping. Then faster, harder, finding a rhythm that made my toes curl.
"God, Katrina." His voice was wrecked. "You feel,” he licked his lips and then bit the corner of his lower one. “I can't…"
"Don't stop." I wrapped my legs around his waist. "Please don't stop."
"Never." He angled his hips, hitting something inside me that made me cry out. "There. Right there."
He hit that spot again and again, relentless, and I could feel the orgasm building—bigger than before, more intense.
"Olek, I'm—" I clenched around him, hoping to slow him down, but he didn’t show me mercy, and I was grateful that he didn’t. I needed him in control, showing me what he wanted and giving me just that.
"I know. I can feel you." He slid his hand between us, found my clit. "Come for me. Want to feel you come on my cock."
The combination of his words and his fingers and the perfect angle of his thrusts … I came apart. The orgasm tore through me like a storm, making me scream his name, my whole body clenching around him. Distantly, I heard him curse, felt him thrust harder, faster, chasing his own release.
"Katrina, fuck, I'm about to…"
He came with a groan, burying himself deep, and I felt him pulse inside me. Hot and perfect. We collapsed together, breathing hard, covered in sweat.
"Four," he managed eventually. "That's four."
I laughed, exhausted and satisfied. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm thorough." He pulled out carefully, making us both hiss. "Stay here. I'll get a towel."
He disappeared into the bathroom, and I lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to process what just happened. I'd just had the best sex of my life with a Russian mob boss who'd paid me to be here. And I wanted to do it again. I was in so much trouble.
Olek returned with a warm towel and cleaned me gently, almost reverently. Then he climbed back into bed and pulled me against his chest.
"Sleep," he said. "We're doing this again in the morning."
"Confident."
"You're still here, aren't you?" He kissed my temple. "And you're already thinking about it."
He was right. Damn him. I closed my eyes and let myself drift off, wrapped in his arms, anticipating what was coming next.