Chapter 10
KARINA
D imitri Petrov, crime boss and power player, with an assassin’s cold gaze and Satan’s own arrogance, has a mouth made for sin.
As soon as he pushes my skirt up, he knows.
My bare sex is right there, inches from his face.
No panties, no G-string, not even the slightest attempt to conceal that I came here naked and waiting for him.
Everything feels plump and sensitive, showing I’ve gone completely liquid for him.
I watch his expression shift from the determined predator who stalked me across the room to a lover undone by the sight and scent of my arousal.
When he looks up and meets my gaze, his granite features soften, almost boyish, delight tugging at the corners of his mouth.
I reach down and brush that smile with my fingertip, charmed and unable to hide it.
“You came here knowing we’d end up like this,” he says, and he can’t keep the wonder from his voice. I smile at him.
“Maybe not exactly like this, but I did picture you on your knees,” I confess.
A rush that’s more than mere lust ripples through me.
Warmth blooms in my chest, threatening tears.
I cup his face, and he turns to kiss my palm, his mouth hot and sultry, before dipping lower.
Need coils low in my belly and gives a sharp tug when he nuzzles my sex.
The rasp of his stubble scrapes my sensitive flesh.
He mouths me, kissing my outer lips, tracing the inner folds with the tip of his tongue.
Then he tugs the loose hood at the apex of my sex, baring my clit that’s already pulsing and swollen with lust.
Dimitri parts my inner lips and French-kisses my slit, tonguing me until my hips buck.
He goes for it with all the force and intensity that intimidate me about him.
Knees trembling, I grip his short hair and tip my head back against the door.
I throw one leg over his shoulder, my body open and quivering; sharp snaps of pleasure drag moans from deep within me as he devours me.
He finds my clit with his thumb and rubs.
I can’t stand it, it’s too much. I try to squirm away from his relentless mouth, his touch merciless.
My hands scrabble for purchase, shoving at him, out of my mind with an orgasm that threatens to obliterate me if I surrender.
I fight, thrash against him, and it only ignites him further.
He goes so hard that I see stars when he rocks my hips, rubbing my sex over his face until I come.
My core clenches around nothing while my hips buck, helpless in the throes of blinding ecstasy.
I’m shaking, weak. I want to drag myself away, but he’s broken me with pleasure.
I’m drunk on it, riding his face shamelessly.
He squeezes my ass, anchoring me as he licks and nips, milking every last shudder and pulse, stretching my climax beyond what I can stand.
Sobs rack my body, another impulse I can’t control.
When he finally lifts his face, I can’t look at him.
Embarrassed, undone by his wicked touch, I turn away.
He lowers my leg, presses a reverent kiss to the inside of my thigh, and rises.
I’m trembling, afraid to stand without the door for support.
For a minute or two, I stand there catching my breath and feeling the stray clenches of my inner muscles, aftershocks from the greatest orgasm of my life.
I have to say something, take back some control if not dignity.
There’s no hope of hiding the fact he has unraveled me, stripped me bare of all my defenses so easily.
“My turn.” I crook my finger, beckoning him closer. He looks smug, thoroughly pleased with himself.
“Already? I thought I’d worn you out for at least a few minutes.”
“Is it a bad thing to find your bride ravenous?” I say archly.
His entire face seems to darken at my words and he’s upon me again, his mouth on my neck, kissing and biting while I cling to his shoulders.
He picks me up, one hand on my ass, and carries me back to his desk.
I feel papers crinkle under my bare ass.
I try to shift off of them but he shakes his head, claims my mouth.
“I don’t want to ruin your paperwork,” I murmur.
“Don’t care.” He tears at his belt, breath ragged. “Need to fuck you.”
I start to unbutton his shirt slowly, intending to tease, but after one button I rip it open and seal my mouth over his chest. He’s so muscular, huge, solid, and strong.
I love the pelt of hair there, the greenish-black lines of a tattoo along his ribs.
My palm trails down his abs, feeling how rock-hard his muscles are, how tense with arousal.
Feminine triumph curls through me; I did this to him, drove him beside himself with lust. I yank off his tie and drag the shirt from his shoulders.
His gaze devours my breasts, and I can’t help preening under the attention.
He fondles them like he could do it all night, and God, I wish he would.
“There’s no need to undress me,” he teases, lowering his zipper. I lean in, kiss his chest just below the collarbone.
“You wanted my shirt off. Maybe I feel the same way.”
“You didn’t wear a shirt,” he accuses, “or panties. To a business meeting.”
“And yet you still turned me down,” I point out.
“That was before I put my mouth on your pussy,” he says, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, almost gentle. I shiver beneath the weight of his gaze. “We could call a truce, you know. If we have a disagreement, we can just fuck it out.”
“I haven’t been to marriage counseling, but I thought the phrase was ‘talk it out.’”
“Not for us it isn’t,” he says, voice dark, before his tongue sweeps into my mouth. I’d agree to anything when he touches me like this. He plucks at my nipple with thumb and forefinger, and every pinch, every pull sends a bolt of pleasure straight to my clit.
“Are you saying I could sway you by withholding pussy?” I tease, kissing his neck.
His fingers clench on my breast, possessive.
“Never keep your pussy from me,” he groans.
“That’s cruel, to me and to you. You know you need my mouth.
Don’t you?” His words scorch my lips. I whimper, unwilling to admit he’s right; I’d last five minutes at most. He drags a finger up my thigh and through my folds.
“Are you ready for me, Karina?” he inquires, nipping at my lips. “Or do you need to be warmed up again?” I’m tempted to lie, as another round of attention sounds incredible, but his cock juts from his open fly, big and thick with a heavy curve. My pussy clenches in anticipation.
“Tell me the truth,” he warns, “if you’re not ready, this will hurt. I’m not small.”
“You’re not even average,” I point out.
I glance down between us, and the sight makes my mouth water.
The magnificence of his cock could be something to worship.
I knew unimaginable pleasure awaited me just from the sight of something so large and heavy.
A bead of liquid glistens on the dark-purple head, and I ache to feel that wetness paint my slit.
He tugs me off the desk and into his arms, capturing my mouth in a kiss.
Then he spins me around and bends me over the desk, facing away from him.
Heart hammering, I revel in the rush, the unexpected way he handles me, the thrill of him taking me from behind like an animal, as though I’ve driven him to his baser instincts.
I love how my heels arch my feet and flex my calves, the wicked image of me in black spike heels, naked ass in the air, bent over Dimitri Petrov’s desk.
He kisses the back of my neck and shoulder, decadent and slow.
From the way his cock plunges and jerks I know he’s on the edge, yet he’s determined to take his time.
I reach back, fingers threading through his hair as he mouths my neck.
His hand slides around to my lower belly; his broad chest blankets my bare back, that big palm pinning me in place.
I focus on that single touch, on the spot where his lips press just below my hairline, making it sensual, playful, and erotic.
It’s the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.
I whimper when I feel his shaft prod at my slit.
Dima steadies my hip with his hand, sure and confident.
Then he thrusts into me, just a little and then a little more.
He bends over, mouth to my ear. He nips my earlobe.
Tingling all over, I push my hips up and back to meet his thrusts.
My nails dig into the wood of the polished desk.
I can hear the slap of our skin, the wet slide of him as he pounds me.
I slap the desk with my open hand, bearing down on him, needing the friction of him in just the right spot inside me.
Frustrated, I feel the tantalizing sting of a stroke that’s almost right where I need him.
I curse and pound the desk again, this time with my fist. Dima drags the flat of his tongue up my spine, then grips my hips, hiking me higher to change the angle before driving into me once more.
All I can do is gasp: “ Pakhan !” and when I do, I feel him grow rigid.
All at once, Dima rocks into me and his thrusts turn stuttering, frantic, unable to control himself or wait for me.
His climax is sudden and fierce, and I reach back to touch his face again.
He drops a kiss on my shoulder. “You called me that. I wasn’t prepared for it, for what it would do to me. ”
Sweat cooling on my skin, I stand up and stumble a little.
His hand darts out, taking my arm and steady me.
He stands there proud, naked before me, and I see that he wants to kiss me, embrace me, give some sign of a new alliance, a friendship perhaps.
I pull my skirt back into place and go looking for my bra.
All I want is to get out of here. The sex was amazing, but I feel like he won, like this is how he put me in my place and made his point.
He’s making me his wife. I can have great clothes, incredible sex, and bear his babies, nothing more.
No matter how good he felt inside me, it will never be enough.