Chapter 2
Viktor
Tonight was Anya's graduation party, and the manor was packed with Los Angeles's hypocritical politicians and greedy businessmen, all dragging their kids along for the show.
I hated the noise. I hated people invading my private space even more.
But tonight, one woman had done exactly that. Twice.
As the man who controlled Los Angeles's underworld, I'd seen every type of woman who thought she could climb into my bed.
Hollywood actresses, supermodels with perfect bodies, politicians' mistresses trading sex for favors.
They'd use every trick in the book, stripping out of their custom designer dresses right in front of me, thinking they could trade their bodies for power and money.
I was sick of it.
Most of the time I'd rather take care of myself than watch their pathetic performances. These women always had to put on some grand romantic act first—claiming they'd been in love with me for years, pining for me day and night, unable to help themselves.
The classier they were, the more they loved this routine, as if it somehow made them less like whores.
The girl in front of me was clearly one of Anya's classmates, trying to use that connection to break into my room.
This wasn't the first time something like this had happened.
I had no patience for it. I just wanted to throw her out.
But then she did something that caught my attention.
An hour ago, this girl had run from me in terror. Now she was standing in my bedroom with tears in her eyes, stripping off her clothes, trying to seduce me.
Doing everything to tempt a man, yet looking so innocent and fragile.
That was rare.
I stopped, my eyes locking onto her exposed body.
She wore the most ordinary cotton underwear, but that plain fabric was wrapped around a body with serious impact.
This body didn't fit the current beauty standards these kids worshipped, but for me, it was lethal. Those full breasts, the cotton barely containing those two heavy, pale mounds.
Her waist wasn't slim. There was a soft layer of flesh there. Her hips and thighs were generous.
Her skin was blindingly white, glowing under the bedroom's dim light.
This was a body built for raw fertility and lust.
I felt a fierce tightening in my lower abdomen as blood rushed downward. My previously calm organ went fully hard in seconds, pressing painfully against the zipper of my tailored suit pants.
It had been a long time since I'd felt this kind of excitement.
I hadn't planned on messing with my daughter's classmate—that would create unnecessary complications. But I was changing my mind. Since she'd delivered herself to my door, since her body was triggering such a strong physical response, I had no reason to refuse this gift.
I stayed where I was, my gaze traveling predatorily from her collarbones down to the tops of her thighs.
Her body trembled slightly under my scrutiny. Her nipples, barely hidden under that cotton bra, had already hardened from nerves and the cool air, poking two clear points through the soft fabric.
She instinctively pressed her thighs together, which only made that thin material cling tighter to her inner thighs, outlining what lay beneath.
The scene was intoxicating.
I pulled my gaze back and gave her an order.
"Keep going."
The girl froze, her hands dangling uselessly at her sides, as if taking off her dress had already drained all her courage.
But she'd come this far. A little late to play innocent now.
I narrowed my eyes and repeated myself.
"You don't want to get thrown out? Then take off everything that's left. Stand in front of me with nothing on."
She bit her lip hard, her hands shaking as they reached behind her back to unhook her bra. She dropped the cotton garment on the carpet.
Then she stripped off the last thing covering her and stood before me completely naked.
My breathing got heavier. That exposed body was even more lush and tempting than I'd imagined. Her nipples stood erect from the cold air and extreme tension, a tempting shade of pink.
Her generous thighs pressed tightly together, trying to hide her most intimate place, but a few rebellious pubic hairs still peeked through the gap, teasing the imagination.
I moved forward step by step until I was right in front of her, my frame completely engulfing hers. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell the mix of alcohol and sweet body scent on her skin.
The girl squeezed her eyes shut, her lashes trembling violently.
I reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to lift her head and open her eyes to look at me.
"Who the hell told you that you're repulsive?"
She just stared at me blankly, her drunk, unfocused eyes shimmering with moisture.
I released her chin. My hand slid down her neck, traced past her collarbone, and cupped one of her full breasts. Her skin was impossibly soft. I squeezed that soft mound hard, feeling it reshape in my palm.
She let out a short gasp, her body jerking back instinctively before she forced herself to stop.
I pushed both breasts up to her chin, making her look down at what I was doing to her body.
"You've got the sexiest curves. These tits were made for men to play with."
I grabbed her wrist and forced her hand against my crotch.
I made her feel my hardness, feel that muscle radiating shocking heat through the fabric.
"Look what you've done to me. You better take responsibility for this."
I wrapped her fingers around my length through the fabric, moving her hand up and down in a slow rhythm. She didn't resist, just let me use her hand like a toy, her palm heating up against me. She squeezed experimentally, her thumb stroking clumsily over the head.
"I need this," she murmured, voice thick and slurred, eyes half-lidded as she looked up at me. She pressed closer, nuzzling her cheek against my chest while her hand kept working under mine.
But that wasn't nearly enough.
I grabbed a fistful of her hair and shoved her down to her knees. "Use your mouth."
She looked up at me from the floor, her eyes glazed with alcohol and confusion, but she reached for my belt with clumsy fingers.
"Okay... okay," she breathed, almost eager, fumbling with the buckle. I lost patience and did it myself, unzipping and pulling myself free.
When she saw what she was dealing with, her eyes went wide. Good. She should be intimidated. Still, her tongue flicked out over her lower lip, and she leaned in first, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the tip before I could guide her.
"Use me," she whispered, the words tumbling out soft and tipsy.
I guided her head forward. "Open."
She parted her lips, and I pushed inside.
The wet heat of her mouth made me groan.
She had no idea what she was doing, gagging almost immediately, but that just made it better.
I gripped her hair tighter and thrust deeper, not giving her time to adjust. Her hands braced against my thighs, but instead of pushing away, she held on, fingers digging in as she tried to relax her throat for me.
Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to breathe around me.
Her hands braced against my thighs, but she didn't push away.
She just took it, making these desperate little sounds that went straight to my cock.
Between thrusts she managed a muffled, "Mmph...
s'deep..." before I filled her mouth again.
I pulled out just long enough to let her gasp for air before shoving back in.
Her lips were swollen and slick, her jaw working to accommodate me.
The sight of her on her knees, face flushed and streaked with tears, was almost enough to finish me right there.
She blinked up at me through the tears, tongue swirling clumsily when she could, and whispered hoarsely, "Don't stop... "
"You look perfect like this," I told her, my voice rough.
She made a muffled sound, and I thrust harder, chasing my release. When it hit, I pulled out and came across her face, streaks of white marking her cheeks and lips.
She stayed on her knees, panting softly, my cum dripping down her chin. She didn't wipe it away, just stared up at me with those hazy drunk eyes. Her tongue darted out to taste what she could reach, a small, satisfied hum vibrating in her throat.
And fuck if that didn't make me hard all over again.
I hadn't planned on going further. This should have been enough. But seeing her like that, marked and messy and still looking at me with that vulnerable expression, broke something in my control.
I hauled her up and carried her to the bed, throwing her down on the mattress.
She bounced once and then lay there, watching me strip off my clothes.
Her legs parted a little wider on their own.
She reached up with both hands and cupped her own heavy breasts, fingers sinking into the soft, full flesh as she squeezed them slowly.
Her thumbs brushed over the stiff peaks, a soft, tipsy sigh escaping her lips.
Her eyes stayed glassy and half-lidded, but they never left mine—locked on me with that dazed, hungry stare.
"Fuck me," she slurred, voice soft and needy. "Make me forget everything."
When I climbed over her, she spread her legs without being told. The drunk obedience in her movements sent a fresh surge of lust through me. She hooked one ankle around the back of my thigh, tugging me closer, her hips lifting in invitation.
I ran my hand up her inner thigh, feeling how soft she was. When I reached her center, I found her wet but incredibly tight. My fingers barely fit inside. She gasped, back arching, and pushed down onto my fingers with a shaky little moan.
"How many men have you been with?" I asked, working another finger in.
She shook her head, not answering, and I didn't push it. I was too focused on how her body clenched around my fingers, how small and tight she felt. "None," she finally breathed, the word almost lost in a drunken whimper. "Just... you. Please."
"You must be kidding."