Chapter 39 - Amara
AMARA
Fuck being kissed in front of everyone.
I used to think that was the endgame of public gestures, proving I am in fact property of Ransome Rozanov. But even the most passionate of kisses in front of every important and dangerous person in all of New York City takes a back seat to being shown what Ransome just shared with me.
It’s dangerous and illegal and crazy and top secret.
So… much… blow.
And Ransome showed it to me. Ransome has chosen me to be his other half in his life.
He wants—no, needs—a woman at his side, on his arm, who will be his partner in all of this.
And he wants me. Whether it’s because I am the first assistant he’s ever had who can actually do the job or for some other reason, he wants me.
And as terrifying as that is, it’s also exhilarating.
It’s not just the money. It’s not just the fact that this is the first time in years, or maybe even ever, that I’ve actually felt like I might be capable of helping my brother and sisters.
It’s everything else too.
Ransome’s kisses, for show or not, are the most passionate I’ve ever experienced. And then there’s the way he looks at me, like I belong to him. Like no one else is allowed to so much as think of me in that way. It’s territorial and possessive and hot.
Fuck, is it hot.
When we get to the penthouse, Ransome gets out of the car and rounds to my side. He’s going to walk me up the stairs and make sure I get in okay.
More like, he’s going to make sure my night ends here. He likes to know where I am and to keep me there, where I can’t do anything that might look bad. Where I can’t forget that, contractually, I belong to him, both on and off the clock.
But as he closes the car door behind me and we head to the sidewalk, he taps on the hood of the car…
And Ivan leaves.
I look back as the tail lights pull onto the main road. I look up at Ransome, who doesn’t meet my eyes. He just guides me up the stairs to the front door and punches in the code.
Meanwhile, my heart starts hammering wildly in my chest
Ivan left.
Ransome told him to leave.
His car isn’t here.
I snap out of it when I realize Ransome is holding the door open, waiting for me to come inside. It closes behind us, the only light in the room coming from the moon and the streetlights outside.
Without flipping the switch or waiting for me to take my shoes off or anything at all, he pulls me against him.
Our mouths crash together, and Ransome’s clasp on me hard.
As he devours me against the wall, I find myself thinking about how none of our kisses recently have felt staged. Driven, yes, but not by the people and opinions around us. Just by… us.
As the kiss goes deeper, it grows hungrier. He’s hunting for something more, and it’s definitely not for the benefit of anyone else. My thoughts solidify as my insides slowly liquefy from the heat of our kiss.
“You look so fucking good tonight, dorogoya,” he growls into my neck.
“Yeah?” I ask, my words all breath, because his lips have never done what they’re doing now.
“Yeah. And everybody else noticed it too.”
“Is that bad?” He continues to kiss my throat, nibbling and sucking and making me limp in his arms because holy fucking shit.
This is happening. Ransome is in the penthouse with me and he’s not leaving.
At least he hasn’t yet. And guessing by the way he sent Ivan away with the wheels, he has no plan to leave any time soon.
“Not at all.” He tips my chin up and back with his thumb so he can run his tongue along my jawbone. “As long as everyone knows who you belong to.”
Before I can ask what he means, Ransome’s teeth nip into my skin. I let out a yip, but he immediately starts kissing the spot where he just bit me, suckling my throat and making me moan.
Ransome carries me down the hall to his room and unzips my dress. He tugs it from my shoulders and it hits the floor in a puddle before his eyes darken on my bra and panties, which are also black.
The bra is a front clasp. Ransome presses his thumb and pointer finger to the latch between my breasts and it immediately pops open.
“Fuck, baby girl,” he rasps, and that’s all he says before his hands are on my waist. His mouth is on mine, his tongue running over my lip before he sucks on it hard enough to light a fire inside me.
I wrap myself around him and he picks me up again, tossing me on the bed.
Then he crawls on top of me, kissing down my neck, along my collarbone, over the swell of my breasts.
He lifts his toned body from mine just enough to get a better view, then takes my breasts in his hands and kneads them with another growl.
His thumbs find my nipples, playing and teasing, circling and flicking, making my back arch and my panties wet.
The man is a mind reader. He knows exactly what I like, exactly what I’m hoping he will do next, and exactly what I was just thinking.
He makes his way south, leaving a trail of sensitively teased skin as he goes, until he is eye-level with my hot, throbbing pussy.
“These are going to have to go,” he says, tucking his fingers inside my panties.
I lift my hips to help him, but he doesn’t need it. He just rips them off.
My mouth pops open in surprise and the slightest bit of protest. I liked this panty set. It was cute and sexy and probably expensive and—
“Fuck…” I cry out as his mouth covers me, lapping up the wetness that he’s already caused.
The words of protest leave my mind and I lay back as Ransome devours me. He runs his tongue up and back down from my opening to the sweet spot of nerves in my clit. He teases each area, but never gives it enough attention to push me close enough to the edge that I might get off.
Guess I’m not coming until he says I do.
He moves down and kisses the inside of my thighs, my knees, up to my navel and along my hips, and then back to my pussy again. It’s pulsing, begging for more pampering.
“Ty takoy vkusnyy, dorogoya,” he says into my skin.
“What does that mean?” I moan. Don’t get me wrong. The constant foreign language thing is hot, like a grittier, more threatening Spanglish, but it would be nice sometimes to know what he’s saying. Now is very much one of those times.
“It means you taste good,” he snaps before sucking on me again. In that rough, hot, wet moment, I can feel my soul begin to leave my body as Ransome vampires it out of me.
He lifts my hips to his mouth, his hands no doubt leaving prints on my ass as he does.
“Come for me,” he growls into my dripping pussy as his tongue laps over my clit harder, faster until—
“Oh my God!” I let out as I pulse against him.
Ransome waits until my body goes limp and drops my hips back on the bed.
Then he stands up.
He’s going to leave. It’s the only thing I can think of, because dining and dashing seems to be his MO.
But then he starts unbuttoning his shirt. His fingers move fluidly from collar to navel.
Next thing I know, he’s shirtless. Toned and fair and flexed and exposed.
It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve seen his abs or his pecs or that freckle right above his belt buckle, tempting me to find out what’s below it.
But watching the man change in his office closet is a different vibe than watching him strip in his bedroom after having sucked my soul out through my clit.
The belt and slacks are the next thing to go. Ransome sheds his clothes like a second, unwanted skin, and tosses all of it aside until he is standing in front of me like a statue. Hard, dominating, hungry.
His cock is north-pointing and even more glorious than I remember it. As he clasps his hand around it, showcasing its actual girth, I am almost anxious to have it inside me.
But I need it. Fuck me, do I need it.
Everything about this moment is true to fantasy. Fantasies I haven’t had in a while, granted, but the images have never left my mind. The truth is, I’ve never wanted to surrender them.
“Do you want me, dorogoya?” he asks as he takes a step closer to the bed, his hand stroking his cock making it drip with gleaming anticipation.
“Yes,” I say eagerly. I wonder if I sound too eager, but if I didn’t know Ransome Rozanov any better—and I do know him better. Better than anyone—I would say he likes it. He thrives on submission. Fuck it, he gets off on it.
“Say it,” he snaps.
“I want you.”
“Yeah?” He offers a cocky half-smirk, and my fucking God if it doesn’t look good on him.
“Yes. I want you. I never stopped wanting you.”
Those words seem to be the secret password, because Ransome’s blue eyes turn to ice, wild and stormy.
Next thing I know, he’s grabbing me by the hips and flipping me over onto all fours.
Doggy isn’t usually the position I’d start with, but I think it’s safe to say I don’t have a choice. Not tonight. Not with this man.
But even if I did, I’m not sure I’d change a goddamn thing.
He yanks me back to him. I grip the sheets in my hands, bracing for what’s to come. But I am surprised when he gently runs the tip of his cock over me, teasing the opening before pressing himself inside.
“Fuck,” I let out as he glides in, filling me with hot need, every nerve set on fire.
“Am I too much for you, dorogoya?” he asks as he goes even deeper.
“No,” I gasp.
“Good. Do you want it?”
“Yes. Fuck, yes.”
Ransome’s hips pull back with a slow, smooth glide, and I moan. “Are you going to come for me?” he asks, his voice gravelly.
“Yes,” I nod.
“Yes, what?” he demands, his grip steel on my hips.
“Yes, sir.”
I’m more than ready, but Ransome still waits. He wants something else.
It takes me longer than I care to admit to figure it out.
“Yes, Mr. Rozanov,” I play along.
“That’s a good girl.” I can hear the amusement in his voice, and I almost look back so I can sneak a peek of this newfound smile thing he’s trying out tonight.
But before I can even dare to do it, Ransome drives himself inside me hard and I cry out. He pumps in and out, harder, then more gently, fast and slow, never giving me the benefit of predicting what each thrust will feel like.
“You’re so wet for me,” he growls as I gush around him. “If I had to guess, you’ve been wanting a good fuck for a long time. Waiting for it for a long time. Am I right?”
“You’re not—wrong.” I do my best to answer between thrusts. I get dirty talk, and I even understand why men get off on it. But this man’s dick has me so full I don’t know if there’s much room left for anything else, including the ability to process words.
“Is everything you imagined it would be?”
My lips curl in a smile.
I shouldn’t do it. Now is not the time for dousing the fire. But the temptation is too great.
“What makes you think I’ve imagined this with you?”
Ransome stops.
For a moment I worry he’s going to stop altogether.
But then he flips me over in one fluid motion and crawls on top of me, pinning me to the bed.
“Because I know you,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “I know you better than you know me. I knew you were stalking me, dorogoya. I knew you were obsessed with me. I knew it was more than just detailing my office and my schedule. You were detailing my life.”
I swallow, my eyes locked on his because he won’t allow them to look away.
“You spent time in my penthouse. You went into every room. You learned me. And then, when I left my office door unlocked, you went in there too. You’ve taken pictures, taken notes, stolen glimpses. You watched me jerk off and left little pieces of yourself for me to find.”
“You think I wanted to get caught?” I ask.
Another tick of a smirk. “You hoped you’d get caught. But kitten, you have never been in control. I’ve always known. I knew when I hired you that you would want me. Your attentiveness gave that away.”
I’m so wet, the whole mattress is going to need blow drying after we’re done.
“So I hired you,” he continues. “I let you in. I planted the phone. You took the bait, every time. Because you… belong… to me.”
My lips are parted as my breath wisps in and out, hot and labored with each rise and fall of my chest. All of me is exposed right now, inside and out.
And while it’s utterly fucking terrifying, I have never wanted anything more than I want Ransome to take me.
I don’t even care where it leads us, how deep we go into the darkness that is his life.
I’m going with him.
“Yes,” I moan. “I’m yours. Make me yours, Mr. Rozanov.”
Ransome’s eyes sear deeper into me for a moment before he drives himself inside me again.
This time, though, I can see him. His flexing abs as he moves in and out of me. His hard biceps, tightening under the strain of each push. His solid jaw, gritting to fight back the orgasm that is coming for us both.
“Say it again,” he grits out as our hips find rhythm.
“I want you,” I gasp as we near the edge.
“Again,” he demands.
“I need you.”
Closer… closer…
It’s a game. Push. Pull. Dom and sub and the dance they play. But at the same time, there is nothing staged about it. I need to get off more than I have ever needed anything from anyone.
The thrusts pick up pace, harder and harder, deeper and deeper.
I moan and writhe on the bed. Ransome’s temples glisten with the hint of sweat but he doesn’t break.
He bites his lips for a moment before his mouth goes slack again.
His eyes shifting colors with the movement of the storm inside him are the only physical hint that he too is about to crash.
Ransome lowers himself over me. His mouth covers mine, steals my moans and swallows me whole. Then he pulls back, coming to his knees and yanking my hips forward.
“Who do you belong to?” he demands.
“You,” I answer, and he rewards me with a thrust. My pussy is begging for release, throbbing against his cock.
“Who are you loyal to?”
“You.”
Another thrust.
Then, “Who owns you?”
“You do, Mr. Rozanov.”
“Good girl,” he says before slamming himself into me, in and out and in again. Until, a moment later, we both barrel over the edge.
I let the orgasm take me, wave after wave of all consuming heat. My head rolls back, my jaw still unhinged as I struggle to regain my breath, my feelings, my thoughts.
But even when I come to, when the world materializes around me again, I know one thing for certain.
I am his.
I belong to him.
And there is no turning back.