Chapter 7
7
Roman
I dismiss the men Serge called; after what Leon said, my guard is up, and I want no one near me unless their loyalty is beyond question. Betrayal is a sharp knife, and I’ve felt its sting before.
The suite is brightening as the day takes hold, but the damask drapes in the bedrooms block every speck of light. All I have to do now is swing left to my room, settle in, and get some rest. God knows I need it; painkillers and whiskey are a cocktail that doesn’t agree with me, and my head is throbbing.
So it’s interesting to observe that I’m not doing that. I’m standing in the lounge knowing precisely what’s gonna happen instead and enjoying the perverse thrill it gives me.
Is this an unforgivable invasion of her privacy? Fuck yes . That’s what has me as hard as a diamond. I’m not a man who does anything by halves, and this little baker makes me contemplate things I’ve never wanted.
My feet make no sound on the plush carpet, and Quinn’s bedroom door handle is silent. The curtains are closed, and the lamplight casts a warm glow. As I suspected, she sleeps the heavy, dreamless sleep of someone who needs it. Nothing short of an air horn would wake her now.
I shuck off my shoes and sit on the floor near the window, where I have a good view of her body as it rises and falls beneath the duvet. She’s facing me, the cover pulled to her chin, her hair loose and wild.
Fuck me. My cock is already stirring, and there’s nothing to see; my fantasies are enough. Did she make use of the clothes I got for her, or is she naked under there?
My erection is giving me a problem, so I undo my belt and fly buttons to make space for it. Quinn rolls away, sighing as she does so, and I groan, leaning against the glass.
The smallest of gestures has my libido straining at its leash. All I want is to watch those pretty eyes roll back in her head as I bottom out in her sweet little cunt.
She shifts her leg, taking the duvet with it, and I feast my eyes on her ass and creamy, pale skin. Her pink panties stretch over her flesh, and I can just glimpse her plump pussy lips at the edge of the shadow.
It may be the light or my fevered imagination, but I’d swear she’s wet, a sliver of dampness darkening the fabric. I reach for my cock, sliding my hand over the length to help ease the painful throbbing in my veins.
I could tell myself I never planned to masturbate in her room while she slept, but it’d be a lie. I knew I was gonna jerk off in her presence and without her knowledge before I even put my hand on her bedroom door handle.
My cock is thicker and harder than ever. It won’t take much to get me there; I’m primed by the proximity to Quinn and the intrusive thoughts I’ve been having.
She’s had my undivided attention since I first saw her, illuminated by a pool of cold light on the street outside her bakery, her breath making little clouds in the frigid air. I want to feel that breath on my face as she moans beneath me.
I dare to move closer, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. Quinn’s hair is swept over her shoulder, revealing her tender nape, pale and delectable. The scent of confectioner’s sugar fills my nostrils.
The poor girl passed out as soon as she found a place to lie down. She didn’t even shower. She must have been baking for hours, preparing for the day ahead.
I pump my cock harder, the pressure building deep in my abdomen. I could come without touching her, but I can’t resist. She’s right there, inches away and oblivious.
I breathe through my nose and hold it in my lungs; she smells of sugar and spice. And all things nice, because that’s what good girls are made of.
My tongue snakes from between my lips as though it has a mind of its own, and as I lick the warm skin of her neck, uncontrollable images of eating her out assail my senses. Would it be just as delicious? Would she scream and writhe on my mouth as I tasted her juicy pussy?
The scene crashes through my thoughts, and I bury my face in the mattress, biting down to stifle a groan of ecstasy as my climax surges through me. My come flows onto my hand and drips on the carpet, and I stay still until the aftershocks die down.
I can’t remember when I last came so hard. No woman ever inspired an orgasm like that, not even close.
Jesus fucking Christ. I have to get a grip on my sanity, not my cock. Someone is out for my blood; I may have a traitor amongst my associates, and here I am, jerking off like a teenager over a sleeping woman who gets my heart racing with the simplest gesture, the quietest word, or a fleeting glance.
Quinn sleeps on, blissfully ignorant of what happened. Although that should be a good thing, I find myself mildly annoyed by it.
She rolls onto her back, and for a moment, I think she’s awake. Her eyelids flutter, and she arches her back, mumbling.
“No, don’t,” she says, her words coming from far away. “Don’t do this to me. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt—” Her voice fades out, and she frowns.
I have to risk waking her. She’s having a nightmare, and I can’t watch her suffer.
“Shhh.” I sit beside her, placing my palm on her collarbone, and she stills. “Easy, rusalka . You’re alright. I won’t hurt you.”
Her breathing eases down, settling into a deep rhythm, and her brow smooths as the lousy dream ebbs away. I look at her parted lips and can’t resist.
There’s still some come on the back of my hand. I gather it on the tip of my finger and rub it over Quinn’s lower lip. She licks it away, and although I’m only a couple of minutes out from my orgasm, the sight makes my cock twitch.
I give her a quick, light kiss. If this were a fairytale, she’d awaken, but even if she’s a princess, I am no prince.
“Sleep easy, beautiful,” I murmur.