♞Chapter twenty six♞
Mikhail
My secretary drones on, flipping through papers, rattling off numbers, profits, deadlines, and logistics. None of it fucking matters right now. My mind's elsewhere, stuck on Lola.
She's my girl, no matter how much she fights it. She can lie to herself, tell herself whatever bullshit excuse she wants. But I know she doesn't need the money. But she’s still in it. Still doing this crime that has nothing to do with her. Why?
For me. Rage and warmth tangle up inside me. The warmth comes from knowing she’s a fucking wildfire. She burns for what she cares about. But the rage? That's because she doesn't get to sacrifice for me. Not her time. Not her safety. I sacrifice for her.
The secretary’s still talking, but I don’t care. "Clear my schedule," I cut her off.
"Sir?"
I shoot her a look, and she scrambles to obey. I never do this. I never just throw my schedule away. But this is Lola. And when it comes to her, there’s no fucking logic.
I find her in her studio, exactly where I knew she’d be.
She’s lost in her work. And I know exactly what she’s working on.
She doesn’t get to do it. I watch her for a minute, letting the silence hang in the air until she finally looks up.
No surprise, though, she senses me like I'm an extension of her.
"I need you in the office," I tell her.
She wipes her hands on a rag. "I’m working."
"On what?"
"You already know."
She owes me nothing, and still, here she is. Sacrificing for me, in her own fucked up way. I can’t stand it. It eats me up inside. She stretches, rolling her shoulders.
“Thanks for the studio, by the way,” she says sweetly. “Though I’m guessing you only gave it to me so you could barge in whenever the mood strikes.”
"It’s the gift that keeps on giving."
She snorts and goes back to her work, dismissing me. I’m not having it.
I march over, grab her, and throw her over my shoulder, the one that isn't still healing. She shrieks, kicking her legs, "Mikhail, put me down!"
"No."
"I’ll scream bloody murder!"
I laugh. "Go ahead. They’re all so fucking scared of me, they’ll pretend you’re singing."
She screams. Loud enough to rattle the windows. Not one employee so much as looks. I smack her ass hard, and she jerks in my grip. I carry her through the hall like a king dragging his spoils.
Inside my office, I lock the door. Drop her to her feet.
She runs straight for the handle, shaking it, but it’s locked.“You bastard,” she hisses.
I drop into my chair, man-spreading with my eyes locked on hers.
“You’ve got five seconds,” she snarls, stalking toward me. “Open that door, or I swear to God, I’ll gut this place with fire.”
“Fiery today, aren’t we?”
“Always.”
“Then burn for me.”
She grabs a chair and kicks it across the room. It crashes into the wall.I yank her down into my lap. Her body bucks, but I trap her, fingers tangled in her hair, jerking her head back to bare her throat.
“Watch it, Lola,” I murmur into her skin. “You’re forgetting who fucking owns you.”
“I belong to no one.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
I stand, dragging her up, and flipping her over the desk. Her palms slap down on the wood.
“You think you can kick my shit, threaten me?” I shove her down by the spine.
“Go to hell.”
I crack her ass with an open palm.
“Still think you’re in control?”
She tries to twist away. I slap her ass again, watching the red bloom across her skin. I trail my knuckles down her spine, feeling her muscles tense under my touch.
“Let me go,” she whispers.
A lie. She doesn’t want to be let go.
“Liar.”
I unzip her pants. She clamps her thighs shut, but I force them apart. Her pants hit the floor. I rip her panties off. They're soaked
“You’ve been holding out on me,” I murmur, rubbing the fabric across my face.
“You sick fuck.”
“Oh, you have no idea. You think this is the first pair I’ve stolen? Think I haven’t jerked off to them like a goddamn animal, huffing your scent like it’s the only thing keeping me sane?”
I slap her clit. She cries out and tries to crawl forward, but I drag her back by the hips. "That’s for starving me."
I drop to my knees, mouth pressed to her cunt. Her knees nearly buckle when I drag my tongue through her slit.
"You taste like sin," I growl, licking deeper. "And I’m starving for it."
“You said I was nothing to you,” she pants.
"Then why can’t I stop thinking about this sweet fucking pussy?" I devour her, tongue ruthless, savoring every goddamn sound she makes. I grab her by the throat and force her against my chest. “You’ve been playing pretend, Lola. Thinking you can give me your body but keep your love locked up?”
“I’m not yours.”
I thrust inside her. No warning. Her breath leaves in a sharp cry, and I grind in deeper, holding her there.
“Then why are you melting?” I hiss against her ear. “Why are you shaking?” I twist her around, fuck her facing me. Watch her come apart. Her mouth, her body, her eyes—everything screams mine.
“Say you’re mine.”
She grits her teeth. “Never.”
“I’ll fuck it out of you.”
I pound her, hard and raw, no space between us. No air. Just sweat and rage and twisted fucking devotion. Her body tightens. She’s there. She’s falling.
"Say it," I growl, fucking her through it.
“I hate you.”
"No, you don’t."
I kiss her like I’m drowning. Like she’s the only air that ever mattered. Her nails dig into my back. Her legs lock around my waist as she orgasms. I keep going until I come inside her, buried so deep she’ll feel me for days. After, we’re quiet. She’s panting. Hair a mess. Lips bruised.
I brush a thumb along her cheek.“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you like ruin. Like madness. Like something I’d fucking die for.”
She doesn’t say it back. But she’s no longer pushing me away, and that’s enough for now.