Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
Alisa
I tried to ignore the questioning looks Gemma was shooting at me from the back of Dmitri’s car. But more importantly, I was trying to forget the last instance I’d rode in this very same car… And came close to riding him.
A smirk graced his lips, but he remained thankfully silent. Between the distractions of his hand nimbly working the gear shift and his broad shoulders so close to my own, I wasn’t in the headspace to head off any snide remarks that’d clue Gemma into our actual work.
When Gemma opened the car door, a cheerful smile spread over her face. Relief filled me, I’d thought she’d be pissed that I had to skip girls’ night due to work. Not that I had a choice in the matter.
“The Strand was having a sale on paperbacks, and I know how excited you are to read this one!” She dug into her purse and practically squealed while pulling out a book from one of our favorite authors. On the cover, a shirtless and overly muscled man was holding a huge broadsword.
“Even though you’re ditching me, I’ll loan you my copy when I’m done. I guess I’ll have time to finish it tonight,” she said with an exaggerated wink.
Dmitri’s gaze flicked to me while Gemma bounced towards her apartment.
“Not a word,” I said, already awaiting the teasing words about my genre of choice.
But there was no teasing smirk, or underhanded comments. Just a thoughtful glance before he turned back onto the road.
“Thanks for dropping her off,” I said.
Dmitri shrugged a broad shoulder. The movement brushed his thick muscles against my own shoulder. A tingle worked its way down my skin, straight to my center. Unconsciously, my thighs rubbed against each other, desperate for friction.
He cursed roughly in Russian, and I knew I’d been caught.
“So fucking distracting, kotenok,” he said, his huge hand sweeping across my exposed thigh.
When his warm hand moved back to the gearshift, I couldn’t contain a high-pitched whine from escaping my mouth.
With a dark look, he threw the car into automatic. His fingers roughly pushed up my dress, so that the warm heat of the car was blowing directly into my lacy underwear.
“How the fuck am I supposed to focus when you keep begging me with your eyes?”
“I’m not-” I started to protest. His fingers pushed underneath my underwear and I completely lost my train of thought.
“Lie to me again, and I’ll paint your ass red with my handprints.” Dmitri’s thumb circled my clit, and I jerked at the pleasure being wrenched from me.
His middle finger entered me. I circled against it, swallowing back a moan.
“I can picture it now,” he said. “I'd spank this pretty ass, and you would try to pretend that everything was normal as we walked into the restaurant. But every time your dress would brush against your sensitive skin, you’d be squirming, reliving every single moment of my hands marking and owning you.”
Another finger entered me, and yet he was completely unphased driving the car. His fingers were bringing me closer to orgasm while he was effortlessly passing cars like I wasn’t about to combust next to him.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you, my little slut?”
My only response was an embarrassingly loud moan. He laughed darkly.
I gripped the passenger handle as I crested closer to the apex. But just as I started hopping on his hand, his fingers retracted from my insides and he swung the car into park.
I gasped when he turned the car off.
Sweat glistened down my skin, in complete contrast to his casual posture. The only thing that gave him away was the blaring darkness in his eyes as he stared at the dripping liquid on his fingers.
“W-why’d you stop?” I whined, forcing myself not to grab his huge hand and make him finish the job.
“We arrived,” he said, and from the way his eyes caressed my skin he was more than aware that I hadn’t.
“But I’m so close,” I said, my breathing ragged.
Dmitri tucked an errant strand of my wig behind my ear.
“I’m aware.” His voice was gravelly. “But if you're a good girl, I’ll finish you later.”
My mouth dropped open when he swung open the car door and stepped into the frigid night. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to fight through that fog of lust and go back into a professional mindset.
It didn’t work, but I still checked the mirror to make sure my makeup and wig were in place. With a huff, I followed him inside the restaurant.
Dmitri savored my discomfort as a suited worker opened the door for us.
“How am I supposed to work like this?” I said.
My pent-up pleasure was turning into sexual frustration. Frustration that I was more than willing to take out on the person who caused it.
“You’ll figure it out.”
When my glare deepened, the sadistic gleam in his eyes just magnified.
“What type of assignment is it?” I said when I concluded that I wasn’t winning the previous argument.
“Simple kill mission.”
“Who's the target?”
“Not here yet,” he said after surveying the cavernous room. “Looks like you’ll have to be patient.”
The sound that left my mouth was undignified, but I couldn’t bring myself to care as I headed towards the bar with a crow’s eye view of the space.
I settled onto a barstool and discreetly rubbed my thighs together, hoping it would minimize the unrelenting pressure.
No luck.
“Don’t worry,” Dmitri said. He sat down beside me, his leg brushing against mine and setting off another wave of heat. “I can handle everything.”
It made sense. Dmitri didn’t seem like the type to allow pleasure to get in the way of work. I was just a little toy he was using to pass the time while he waited for the main event.
“Why did the Pakhan pair us together for such a straightforward mission?” I mused.
Dmitri’s expression shadowed. “There’s always a reasoning behind the Pakhan’s decisions.”
I frowned at his tone. The words sounded deferential, but the way he said it had another layer to it. Did he share my ambivalent feelings about the Pakhan?
Before I could question him on it, Natalya swept into the room.