Dmitri #2
I carefully parked my sleek, silver Lamborghini in the secluded back lot, where I knew it would be safe from being vandalized, or worse, stolen.
The luxury vehicle gleamed under the dim lights, its polished surface reflecting the shadows of the night.
Beside me, Stepan’s demeanor shifted noticeably, his face lighting up with anticipation.
He never passed up a chance to accompany me to Raptor, the club that pulsated with life and energy.
His interest was more than just the vibrant atmosphere; he had been captivated by Amber, one of the waitresses, ever since she joined the team six months ago.
Amber was excellent at her job—punctual, diligent, and always prepared.
Her striking beauty and professionalism made her one of my top employees.
As I strode into the club, the rhythmic beats of music enveloped me, and I immediately felt Ginger’s gaze lock onto me.
Her eyes followed my every movement, a mix of curiosity and expectation shimmering in their depths.
I wasn’t quite sure what direction she imagined our relationship was heading, but tonight I intended to clarify things.
Relationships, especially with employees, were something I avoided.
She knew this from the start, yet perhaps it was time for a gentle reminder of our boundaries.
I approached the bar, ordering a drink while keeping a discreet eye on Ginger’s cage. The gleaming metal structure was descending slowly to the floor, signaling the end of her performance and the start of her break. The timing was perfect—just enough to release some tension.
Ginger strutted toward me, her hips confidently swaying, her red lips curving into an inviting smile.
The yellow of her canary costume flattered her complexion, the vibrant hue accentuating her graceful movements.
The outfit was daring, revealing just enough to send any man’s imagination into overdrive.
“Hey, Tri. Are you here for work or pleasure?” she purred, her voice dripping with sultry allure as she lingered on the word “pleasure.”
Swallowing the last of my drink, I grasped Ginger’s hand with a firm, yet indifferent grip, guiding her purposefully toward my office. “Come on, kanareyka ,” I urged, using the affectionate nickname that meant “little canary,” my tone brisk. “I don’t have much time.”
She tottered on her six-inch platform heels, as precarious as a newborn foal, when I pushed her through the heavy mahogany door of my office and backed her up against my desk.
The solid, unyielding wood pressed into her thighs as I held her captive.
Ginger’s eyes met mine, and they were a symphony of desire, affection, love, and compassion—a gaze that held everything I had tried to escape.
When her lips sought mine, I quickly grabbed her hips, my fingers sinking into the soft flesh as I twisted her body and pressed her hand firmly against her back. Her breasts heaved against the cool, unforgiving surface of my desk, the scent of her perfume filling the air.
What I needed from her required no intimate connection, no tender caresses or whispered endearments.
I urgently unbuckled my belt, the metal clanking loudly in the otherwise silent room, and lowered my pants, freeing my cock and nudging it between her rounded ass cheeks.
Moving the thin, lacy strap of her thong to the side, I swiped my cock between her slick folds, gathering her wetness before plunging, without a moment’s hesitation, into her welcoming entrance.
“Tri,” she moaned, her voice a husky whisper of surrender. “Oh, yes.”
Ginger always liked it hard and rough, craved the primal dance of raw, unrestrained passion. And that was exactly what she would get. “You like that, shlyukha , slut.” I growled, my voice a low rumble in my chest. “My little kanareyka .”
“Yes, please, more,” she begged, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
“Such a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” I murmured, my voice laced with dark amusement.
Reaching around, I slid my middle finger over her clit, working it in slow, deliberate circles.
Her hips pushed back against me, her body trembling as she neared the edge.
But I still hadn’t had my fill. Using the hand that gripped her hip, I placed my finger over her puckered hole and slid it in to the first knuckle.
She was so damn tight, her body clenching around me like a vise.
With my finger deep inside her ass, her walls squeezed me mercilessly, giving me exactly what I needed.
I closed my eyes, and Larissa’s face entered my mind.
She was the enemy, the woman I wanted to hurt, to punish, to make pay for her sins.
“Tri, stop,” Ginger’s voice cut through the haze, a desperate plea that shattered the illusion.
My fingers delved into her locks, gripping tightly as I tugged her head back, my hips driving harder and deeper into her.
My cock and my finger, buried in her ass, moved in a synchronized rhythm, desperate to exorcise every last thought of this woman who had tormented my dreams for three long years.
“Tri!” she cried out, her hands reaching back to grasp mine, fingers entwining in her own hair, pulling and clutching. Her body was hot and slick beneath me.
“Fuck!” I growled as my release surged through me, a storm unleashed. I withdrew from Ginger’s heat and spilled my cum in a white ribbon across her back, painting her skin with an uncontrollable vengeance.
“What the fuck, Tri?” she spat, pushing herself up from the desk and turning to face me, her eyes ablaze. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, her skin flushed and glistening.
I scrubbed my face with my hands, turning away from her as I strode to the bathroom.
I ran a washcloth under the tap, the cool water a stark contrast to the heat of my skin.
I needed to clean up the mess I’d made, to wash away the evidence of my loss of control.
I’d never been this angered, this out of control, with a woman before. I needed to find Larissa Zhukov.