Chapter 9
Katrina
Five weeks later
Iwoke up to Olek's mouth between my thighs, which had become such a regular occurrence that my body started responding before I was fully conscious.
"Again?" I mumbled, my hand sliding into his hair.
"Always." His tongue circled my clit. "Good morning to you too."
It was 4 AM according to the clock on his nightstand. We'd fallen asleep around midnight after he'd fucked me against his office door while I was supposed to be bringing him documents.
Five weeks had changed everything. Changed me. I'd stopped thinking about this being just a transaction somewhere around week two. Stopped trying to convince him that this wasn’t about me around week three. Now, at week five, I was so deep I couldn't see the surface anymore.
And I still had fifty-three days left.
Fifty-three days until I had to walk away from the best sex of my life. From the man who'd memorized every inch of my body. From the person who made me feel safe and desired and seen. I shoved the thought away and focused on the present—on Olek's talented mouth and the orgasm building in my core.
"That's it," he murmured against me. "Stop thinking. Just feel."
I came with a gasp, my thighs clamping around his head. He worked me through it, then kissed his way up my body.
"Shower?" he asked.
"No time." I glanced at the clock. "I have to be downstairs in an hour."
"So we have an hour."
"Olek—"
He silenced me with a kiss, rolling me beneath him. I could feel him hard and ready against my thigh.
"I need you," he said simply.
Those three words. He said them at least three times a day now, and every time they made my chest ache.
"Then take me."
He did. No preamble, no teasing. Just one hard thrust that seated him fully inside me. I was sore—always was these days—but the stretch felt good. Felt right. He fucked me hard and fast, his hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back so he could bite my neck.
"Mine," he growled. "Say it."
"Yours." The words came easily now. Too easily. "I'm yours."
"Damn right." His thrusts got harder, more erratic. "Going to come inside you. Fill you up so deep." He planted himself, filling me with his seed. He always finished inside me. Even if I sucked him.
"Yes!"
He slammed into me one last time and came with a groan, his shaft pulsing deep inside me. The feeling of him filling me, claiming me, sent me over the edge again. We collapsed together, breathing hard.
"That's two before breakfast," he said, satisfied. "New record."
I laughed and pushed at his chest. "When will you get tired of that silly game?"
"You love it."
I did. God help me, I did. He pulled out slowly, and I felt his cum start to leak out of me. Before I could move, he was there with his fingers, pushing it back inside.
"Don't waste it," he murmured.
"Olek," he was obsessed with keeping his seed in me. I was grateful for the birth control, but I also knew we were playing with fire.
"Humor me." He kissed me slowly. "I like the idea of you walking around with me inside you all day."
Heat flooded my face. It shouldn't turn me on—this possessive, caveman behavior. But it did. Everything about him did. I looked at his cock, still half-hard and glistening with our mixed fluids. An idea formed.
"Let me clean you up," I said.
His eyes went dark. "Baby girl."
I pushed him onto his back and settled between his legs. His shaft twitched when I wrapped my hand around it.
"You don't have to do that."
I shut him up by taking him in my mouth.
He groaned, his hand immediately fisting my hair. "Fuck. Your mouth feels so damn good."
I cleaned him thoroughly, tasting us both, taking him deeper. He was getting hard again, which shouldn't have been possible but was becoming the norm for him. Insatiable. That's what he was.
"Katrina, I'm going to come if you keep doing that."
I hollowed my cheeks and sucked harder.
His grip in my hair tightened, almost painfully. "Going to fuck your mouth exactly how I want."
I looked up at him and didn't stop. That was all the permission he needed. He thrust up into my mouth, controlled but firm, and I relaxed my throat to take it. Tears pricked my eyes, but I didn't pull away. Didn't want to.
"So good," he groaned. "Such a good girl, taking it so well."
His praise went straight between my legs. I pressed my thighs together, seeking friction, and he noticed.
"Touch yourself," he commanded. "Want you to come while I'm in your mouth."
I slid my hand between my legs, finding my clit. Still sensitive from earlier, but I didn't care.
"That's it. Make yourself come while I fuck this perfect mouth—"
His thrusts got rougher, less controlled.
I matched my rhythm on my clit to his thrusts, chasing the orgasm building fast. He fucked my mouth like he was inside my cunt.
Deep and hard, relentless and unforgiving, and I loved it.
I gagged, pulled away to get air, and he immediately pulled me back.
Tears streaked my face, I gulped in his dick, feeling the buzz from being used all over my skin as arousal took over so deeply that I thought I was going to explode.
"Going to come down your throat," he warned. "Going to… Fuck!"
He came with a shout, and I swallowed everything he gave me. The taste, the feeling of him losing control, the rough grip in my hair. I came hard, moaning around his cock, my whole body shaking. When I finally pulled off, we were both breathing hard.
"Three," he said. "Definitely a record."
I glanced at the clock, and my stomach dropped. "Shit. It's 5:30. I need to…"
"Stay." He pulled me up to kiss me. "Call in sick."
"I've called in sick four times in the last month. The staff is starting to ask questions. They’re starting to get suspicious, Olek."
"Let them ask."
"Olek." I climbed out of bed, looking for my clothes. Where had he thrown them this time? "I can't just abandon my job. I understand that you’re my boss, but this looks bad, and I can’t have that."
"You could if you wanted to."
I froze, my dress in hand. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing." But his jaw was tight. "Just that you don't have to keep working if you don't want to. I'll take care of you."
"That's not," I pulled the dress on, "what this is."
"Isn't it?"
The question hung between us, heavy with implications.
"I need to go," I said quietly.
I could feel his eyes on me as I dressed, as I tried to make myself presentable. My hair was a mess, my lips swollen, and I probably had beard burn on my neck. Cum dripping down my thighs.
I needed to get myself together. I couldn’t have people finding out.
"Katrina—"
"I'll see you later." I grabbed my shoes and headed for the door.
"Tonight," he said. "Come back tonight."
"I always do."
I slipped into the hallway, shoes in hand, and started toward the back stairs. The house was still dark, still quiet. I could make it to my room, shower…
"Morning."
I spun around.
Mikhail stood at the end of the hallway, coffee mug in hand, looking far too awake for 5:30 AM.
Shit.
"Morning," I said, trying for casual and probably failing miserably.
He studied me—the dress I'd worn yesterday, the bare feet, the general state of someone who'd just been thoroughly fucked.
"Rough night?" he asked.
"Something like that."
He took a sip of his coffee, and I waited for judgment. For condemnation. For him to tell me I was crossing a line.
Instead, he said, "He's happier."
I blinked. "What?"
"Olek. He's happier than I've seen him in a while." Mikhail leaned against the wall. "Smiles more. Doesn't brood as much. Actually, sleeps occasionally. That's because of you. I thought it was you that he was seeing, but I couldn’t be sure. Now I know."
My throat tightened. "I don't know."
"I'm not judging you, Katrina. Whatever's happening between you two, it's your business." He paused. "But I need to ask you something. I need to know something."
"Okay."
"Are you using him?"
The question hit like a punch to the gut.
"Because if you are," Mikhail continued, "if this is about money or status or whatever—you need to end it. Now. Before he gets in any deeper. If it’s about money, tell me how much it’ll be in order to have you end it and I’ll pay it. Because he doesn’t deserve to be hurt for financial gain."
"I'm not using him," I said quietly.
"Then what is this?" He scrunched his eyebrows, almost as if he was trying to figure out if I was telling him the truth or not.
I was being as honest as I could be. Olek came to me with this contract.
A clear set of rules that we would follow for his gratification.
He knew I needed the money, and I knew he wanted to fuck.
It was an exchange, but suddenly I felt guilty.
Olek satisfied me in so many ways, and now I was standing here trying to figure out if I was giving him enough.
I indulged in every fantasy . Showed up when he wanted me, morning, middle of the day, night … I never said no. Never wanted to.
But was that enough?
What was this really? A contract? A transaction? The best mistake I'd ever made? How did it feel to him?
"It's complicated," I said finally.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have." I met his eyes. "But I'm not using him. I wouldn't—I'm not like that. Olek and I are very honest about what we’re doing. You can ask him."
Mikhail studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright. I believe you."
"Thank you." I exhaled. I don’t know that it was so important for me to have him believe me and not see me as some kind of villain, but it was.
"But Katrina?" He pushed off the wall. "He cares about you.
More than he should if this is some sort of agreement.
More than is probably smart for him, seeing that you still work for him.
So whatever this is, whatever happens—don't break him.
He's had enough of that in his life. He doesn’t need someone else to let him down. "
He walked away then, leaving me standing in the hallway with my shoes in my hand and guilt churning in my stomach.
What am I doing?
I made it to my room without seeing anyone else.
Locked the door and leaned against it, trying to breathe.
Mikhail knew. He knew I'd spent the night in Olek's room.
Knew something was happening between us.
And he'd looked at me with concern and respect and asked me not to hurt his friend.
My boss. The man who was paying me to fuck him.
The man I was absolutely, catastrophically falling for.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Same face. Same body. But I felt different. Dirty in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the lie. Because Mikhail had been kind. Had treated me like I mattered, like my feelings mattered. And I had been lying to him. To everyone.
I showered and dressed for work, moving on autopilot. Put on my uniform, tied my hair back, became the head maid again instead of the woman who'd just swallowed her boss's cum. The woman who was fifty-three days away from walking away from the best thing that had ever happened to her.
When I made it downstairs, Elena was already in the kitchen making coffee.
"There you are," she said. "I was starting to worry. You okay? You look exhausted."
"Just didn't sleep well," I lied.
Another lie to add to the collection.
"Well, drink some coffee. We've got a full day." She handed me a mug. "Oh, and Mr. Sidorov left a note. Wants to see you in his study at noon. He sure has been asking for you a lot more. I hope that’s good."
My stomach flipped. "Did he say why?"
"Nope. Just said to make sure you were there." She grinned. "Maybe he's finally going to give you that raise. God knows you deserve it. He’s always demanding something from you. This place has never looked or smelled better, and still he asks more of you. You deserve more money for what you do."
"Maybe," I said, feeling guilty.
But I knew what he really wanted. Me. Always me.
And God help me, I wanted him too. Contract or no contract.
Fifty-three days or forever. I was completely, utterly his.
And I had no idea how I was going to survive walking away.
Because I’d debated trying to figure out a way to stay, but there was no way that I could continue to work here for him after the ninety days were over.
I couldn’t handle seeing him with other women.
There was no way I wanted to see that. At … all. It’d only been five weeks, but when you were with someone everyday knowing this as intimately as we were, it felt a lot heavier than casual. Maybe I needed to put some space between us.