Chapter 12 - Angelika
Diomid looks relieved when we arrive at the second location, and the guys show him the damage that was done.
He never really gives me the go-ahead to start helping, but when I see that it’s not a chemical bomb, and there is no risk in that sense, I pick up a fire extinguisher, and after a few minutes, I have figured out how it works, and I’m blasting white powdery smoke onto the flames along with the other guys.
Diomid watches me, always keeping his eyes on me, while he attends to the guys who got injured. When the flames are out, I move to his side and quietly pick up a pair of gloves, slipping them onto my hands, then grab some gauze and disinfectant and kneel over a man with a cut on his cheek.
“This might sting a bit,” I say gently, splashing alcohol onto clean gauze. He nods. “It’s ok, I’ve had worse.” The man smiles.
I can feel Diomid’s eyes on me. He has a puzzled look on his face as he watches me work. But I stay quiet, rather showing him I’m capable through my actions, not my words.
Also, I can’t help the bitterness in my heart when I think about the phone call I overheard between him and Jaroslav last night.
Every time I glance at him, he’s glancing at me too, and it makes my skin tingle.
I feel like a fool, though. A silly, naive little girl who doesn’t understand the world enough to realize when someone is tricking her.
Because he was tricking me, and I was falling for him while he was doing it.
I pull my eyes off Diomid and back into my work.
Cleaning cuts, bandaging hands, and applying burn gel to minor burns.
We work together for a few hours, silently, helping people and tidying up a bit around the warehouse. The whole time, my heart is heavy, but my eyes are constantly drawn to him.
I watch him with his men. His patience, his care. There is a certain tenderness to him that surprises me. He’s reckless Diomid, not this gentle, openhearted man I’m witnessing.
He treats each man with respect. No matter his rank in the warehouse. Whether it’s a manager or a cleaner, he treats them the same, and the way the guys speak to him, it’s clear that they have an immense amount of respect for him.
I can’t help recognizing this good in him.
This unquestionable good, represented by those around him.
Beyond how reckless he can be. And beyond what he did to me on our holiday—handling me.
A soft sigh slips from my lips. It’s really annoying that I can’t help being drawn to him.
I can’t help being impressed by his kindness to other people, even to me.
Even if he was ‘handling’ me. He showed me beautiful things and a magical experience.
Things as beautiful and magical as he is.
Ugh. Get a grip.
***
After a long afternoon, Diomid heads up to his office and ushers me through the door, which he closes behind us.
I brace for the lecture, which his stern expression tells me is coming.
“You should never have followed me here, Angelika.”
Knew it. Didn’t he just see how much help I was?
I fold my arms over my chest and puff my breasts out, not willing to let him get the better of me.
His eyes roam over me, and she shakes his head. “You don’t seem to understand, Angel,” he says, his voice low, almost husky.
“What don’t I understand, Diomid? Because from where I was sitting, you needed my help, and I did a pretty good job of it.”
He chuckles, sighing loudly.
“You were helpful, that much was obvious, but you can’t keep putting yourself in danger. This goes back to the night at the club. Do you know why you stood out so much?”
My brows furrow, and my arms fall to my side, my curiosity spiking. He never told me I stood out. He told me I was just the first girl he happened to see, and that was that.
“Why?” I ask, nervously.
“Because you were a good girl, trying desperately to be bad,” he says, walking over to me.
He’s standing close enough for me to breath in his scent. Aftershave mixed with sweat. A masculine scent that has my heart beating faster.
“I’m not a good girl,” I stammer defensively.
“Oh, but you are, Angel. You’re a very good girl. And you want to be bad so badly, you’re willing to take risks to do it. But it’s not in your nature. I see straight through you.”
Shaking my head slowly, I bite my lip, my eyes locked with his.
“I can be anyone I want to be. I don’t have to be one thing,” I whisper, because his face is close to mine.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a good girl, Angel. Good girls get spoiled. They get whatever they want.” His words are low, teasing, and dangerous as he reaches up and brushes his fingers over my jaw, down my throat, across my collarbone.
“But bad girls take what they want,” I argue.
“Do you think I’d ever let a girl take what she wants from me?” he asks. “Or do you think I’d punish her for trying?”
“What if a girl wanted to be punished?” I whisper so softly I can barely believe the words are my own. My skin is on fire, my body pulsing with lust. There is a feverish heat flooding me, pooling between my legs, pulsing and pleading.
Diomid takes another step toward me, pushing me against his desk. I gasp in fright when my ass bumps up against it.
“If a girl wants something from me, no matter what it is, she has to do what I say. If she’s good enough, I’ll consider giving her what she wants,” he whispers against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. I tilt my head back and take in a sharp breath as his hand brushes over my waist.
“What would you tell her to do?” I ask, as he slips his hand beneath my t-shirt and slowly moves it higher, pulling the cup of my bra down so that he can tease my nipples. I shiver with delight as he tugs gently, and his smile grows darker.
“I’d tell her to open her mouth,” he growls.
My lips part on command, and he brushes his thumb over my lower lip. My heart races as he grabs my jaw and locks his mouth over mine, pushing his tongue between my lips and tasting me with force.
The kiss ignites the wildest fire inside me. An uncontrollable desire shoots like lightning through every cell in my body.
He kisses me deeper, more fiercely, more urgently, until I spark with boldness and push him away.
“What if she didn’t obey you?” I ask, a glint of mischief in my eyes.
His eyes darken with lust. This is exactly what he wanted to hear.
He tugs me away from the desk and spins me around, bending me over it and shoving me forward. He pushes me hard against the desk, his hand pressing along my spine, slowly, seductively pushing my t-shirt up.
I squirm, trying to stand up, but he won’t let me.
My heart races even faster, and my pussy swells, throbbing with desire. He pulls my t-shirt over my head, and instead of pulling it right off me, he wraps it around my wrists.
When I try to stand up again, he shoves me forward and lands a sharp slap with his flat hand against my ass cheek. Even through my jeans, it stings hard enough to know I’ll have a red imprint.
I bite my lip, a nervous, excited giggle slipping from my mouth.
“Are you having fun, princess?” he growls darkly.
Diomid reaches around my hips and tugs my jeans open, and in one swift movement, he pulls them down along with my panties, exposing my ass, bent over the desk, pointing right at him.
I wiggle, suddenly shy—in the bright light of his office, there is nowhere to hide.
“Don’t you dare move,” he warns me, and I hear him unzipping his pants.
His deep voice is like a drug to me, luring me to obey him, my body hanging by a thread, waiting for him to carry me to that pleasure I felt last time.
His hand brushes up the inside of my thigh and slips between my legs, gently brushing over my swollen clit and across my pussy. I purr and arch toward him.
“Soaked, little Angel. Such a good girl to be so ready for me.”
He thrusts his massive cock into me, and I yelp in surprise as the pleasure shoots through me.
His cock pushes my pussy open, spreading me wide, massaging every delicate nerve ending inside me.
Diomid pauses once he’s buried deep inside me, pushing his hips against my ass, his body pinning me to the desk.
“Don’t make a sound, princess,” he commands, slowly pulling out and thrusting in again.
I bite down hard on my lips to stop myself from moaning as each thrust of his monster cock brings me more and more pleasure.
Diomid’s hands run down my naked back, over my ass.
He slaps me again, the sharp stinging causing my pussy to clench over him.
The pain from his hand burns outward and quickly intensifies the pleasure of his cock.
He threads his fingers around my neck and over my throat, up across my jaw, pulling my head back so that he can kiss me from behind. His lips lock with mine, and as he fucks me, his cock sliding in and out, soaked in my honey, his mouth claims mine, and his tongue pushes into me.
I feel bad. I feel erotic and dirty and delightfully naughty, but when he whispers against my mouth, “You’re such a good girl for me,” it utterly destroys me, breaks me down, and turns me into his plaything.
I arch harder into him, my pussy dripping, my body shuddering as he fucks me, claims me, takes me.
I want to be everything he desires. I want to be perfect for him.
What I want doesn’t even matter because somehow, with him in control, he’s giving it to me.