Iskra
It was a mistake turning around. He preferred my more demure look. But damn it, he always brought my resistance out of me. I had learned to keep my mouth shut—unless he asked me to open it. I glanced away before I ended up smiling and made the situation worse for myself.
His cock shifted between my thighs and I tried to part my legs but he placed his hand on my waist.
“Stay as you are,” he murmured. “And make sure you don’t wake my daughter up this time.”
He was never going to let me forget that night. He loved to push me—no, he loved to shame me. Remind me of how I had lost control in that moment.
The pressure shifted as he began to enter me. With my legs closed I could feel the friction as he pried me open. But more than that I felt myself react to him. His little performance in the office full of men had been shameless but effective.
His hand moved to my hair, gripping a fistful, the other tightening on my hip.
“Doesn’t it feel good to fulfil your purpose,” he whispered, holding my head up as he began to move. “Taking my cock inside you.”
I held onto the bedding and took whatever he gave me. He surged in and out, the soft smack of his trousers against my rear with each inward thrust. I could feel how wet I was by the way each stroke slid through my own arousal.
“Bent over to take another load,” he hissed, moving faster, hitting deeper.
He released my hair and grabbed my upper arms, hauling my torso off the bed until my feet slipped on the rug. The tempo increased and my breasts swayed as his thrusts grew vicious. I bit my lip. His fingers dug into my arms as he began pulling me back to meet each thrust.
All I could do was take him and stay quiet. The heavy breathing and dull slapping grew louder.
“Yeah,” he murmured, striking a place deep inside me. “That’s the spot.”
My eyes rolled back. I felt myself pushing back onto him before I could stop it—impaling myself, chasing it.
Time seemed to stop as the tension broke and I came.
Deep short strokes as he held me there. His fingers bruised my arms. I gushed around him, tightening my inner muscles to hold him inside, trying to stifle the low sounds that followed.
I was gone.
He hissed and released my arms. I fell forward onto the mattress and his weight followed, burrowing deep, shooting his come inside me. Another burst of breath as more followed. He ground himself against me until he had emptied everything into me.
Just as he had promised.
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“No time for a shower. Clean me up,” he said, swinging his leg over my waist.
The pillows were in place and my hips in the air.
His men were gone—I had heard the cars shortly before he came up.
He had plenty of time to shower. But as he moved up my body I opened my mouth.
Even half-hard he still managed to fill my throat.
His eyes were hooded, his face relaxed, as I swallowed him down and began to move my head back and forth. Tasting him. Tasting us both.
Silently he watched me work.
“Such a diligent wife,” he said, taking hold of my head and taking over. “Taste it all.”
He moved my head in time with his hips. I lost track of how long for. I felt him harden gradually—the shift from lazy to deliberate, his grip tightening as I worked. He pulled out and lifted himself up, dangling his balls above my lips.
With a sigh I began—licking and sucking them clean, the saltiness of him, the musk of both of us still on his skin. His cock rested against my forehead as I worked.
“Best to be in your room for what I have planned tonight,” he murmured, pulling back.
I watched him ease himself back into his trousers and listened to the zip. As he lifted himself off my chest I turned the words over.
What did he have planned for tonight?
He gathered his cufflinks and left.
The soft click followed and I relaxed.
It was best to take a nap while I could.
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He sipped his tea while I settled Runa into her highchair. He had kept me up half the night—the reason we had ended up in the west wing being that he had wanted to spank me and hear me scream. He had left Bogdan to listen out for Runa in case she woke.
My flesh was still tender and he knew it.
He set his cup down and his lips tugged upward as I carefully lowered myself into the chair. I felt everything through the padding. Fortunately Runa drew his attention and he turned to speak to her, which was the only mercy on offer this morning.
It was hard to ignore the man who had done that to me when he was speaking so sweetly to my baby. She took hold of his hand with both of hers and pulled it toward her drooling mouth. I opened mine to warn him.
Changed my mind.
Olya brought breakfast over just as Vadim cursed and yanked his finger back. He leaned in and pulled Runa’s lip down to reveal two small teeth budding through the gum.
Olya gasped and clutched her chest before bursting into delighted laughter—practically skipping to the other side of the kitchen and diving into the fridge with the delight of a woman who had been waiting for this development.
Vadim was grinning as though Runa had done something extraordinary. He began to pat her head and she mirrored his grin back at him with the precise satisfaction of someone who knew exactly what she’d accomplished.
What made my heart flutter was that he held his finger back out for her to bite on.
His eyes found mine.
“It’s the least I can contribute since she’s chomping on your nipples,” he murmured.
“How valiant of you,” I said, passing him her breast milk porridge.
He frowned at the small bowl but didn’t refuse. He picked up the spoon.
“Is that all she’s eating?”
“She’ll probably play with it more than eat it. These are tasters—rounded exposure to various foods at this stage.”
I had lists. Low allergy grains, fruit and vegetables in season, introduction schedules. Olya knew the plan.
She returned with a second bowl.
“A cold pineapple core for her to bite down on,” Olya announced with satisfaction. “Tastier than her papochka’s finger, da?”
“Thank you, Olya,” I said, glancing at the core. Hard enough that Runa couldn’t bite through it. Perfect.
I poured my tea and ate my breakfast. He didn’t seem like the Pakhan this morning. Just a father. And I didn’t feel trapped—not with Runa between us, not in this kitchen with Olya skipping around the fridge.
It was a strange new phase in whatever Vadim was doing.
I wasn’t sure yet what to make of it.
All I could do was observe the phenomenon before me.