His response was worth my flush of embarrassment. He closed his eyes tight, then opened them, as if he’d expected me—or my tits—to disappear. In a gravelly voice, he said, “You have the most exquisite breasts I’ve ever seen.” He stared at them with lust, but also with an eager curiosity, as if he’d been dying to know what I looked like beneath my clothes.
Without warning, he lifted me up on the marble counter, easing his hips between my knees. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he reached for my chest with both hands. . . .
Contact.
A breath shuddered out of his lungs; I moaned, arching into his palms.
“I could come in my pants just from the feel of you.” His huge dick strained against the material to get free.
I reached for it, needing to fondle him, to learn what made him groan—
“Ah-ah. Not yet. Hands on the counter.”
When I reluctantly obeyed, he circled one puckered nipple with a forefinger. Again. And again. Never varying his maddening speed.
My clit began to throb along with my nipples. I whispered, “Oh, my God.” When my head lolled, he cupped my nape, holding me steady. “Dmitri . . .” This was something like, like adoration.
He placed his other hand on my back, forcing me to arch even more to him. He bent to rub the side of his face against my chest.
I felt his low, guttural groan. Panting, I watched him nuzzle my breasts, looking as if he’d lost himself.
His hot exhalations whispered across one nipple, then . . . his tongue.
“Oh, yes!” I threaded my fingers into his thick black hair, gripping his head. I heard myself repeatedly whispering his name.
“You like what I do to you.” I could have sworn he was grinning against my breast.
I wanted to see his grin! The thought vanished when he sucked the peak between his lips.
I was levitating! His mouth was so hot, his tongue strong as he teased my nipple. A graze of teeth made me whimper.
Then he lavished the same care on my other breast. Could I come from this?
When he suckled with hungry pulls, my eyes flashed wide, then slid closed. Sounds bombarded me. The music from the penthouse. My desperate moans. His blissed-out groans. The wet suction of his mouth . . .
Too soon, he drew back. “Pull your panties aside.”
Between breaths, I asked, “Why am I the only one baring it all?” I’d had a half Brazilian, leaving a small thatch of hair on my mons. Would he like that?
He arched a brow. “You want me to have skin in the game?”
Wordplay? Ah, delicious!
“Perhaps you’ll like being naked next to a fully dressed man.”
The idea felt wicked; I’d be so vulnerable to him. Could I really do this with someone I’d just met?
“Show me how wet you are, Victoria.”
I swallowed with nervousness, but I did tug aside my thong. Cool air hit my lips.
Grating something harsh in Russian, he stared at my pussy like it was a revelation, the highlight of his entire life. His riveted gaze made me tremble. With his brows drawn, he tenderly caressed the backs of his fingers over my lips. “Beautiful girl. You’re fucking mouthwatering.”
Beautiful. Mouthwatering.
“Look at this light hair. I’m glad you left some.” Then he parted me. “Ah! You’re drenched.”
My face burned. I’d never felt more exposed.
And that only made me wetter.
His hands were shaking, his words ragged as he said, “I never knew my cock could ache this much.” He started kissing down my body.
A flick of his tongue along my cleavage. Another above my navel.
“Whoa. What are you going to do?” I barely recognized my own voice.
He tugged my soaked panties down to my knees. “Need to eat you.”
I pressed his head back. “Wait, let’s don’t. Not that much of a fan actually.” I never could come from it, and guys seemed to think they’d failed if they couldn’t bring me off. The pressure spoiled it for me.
But I didn’t want to put Dmitri off totally, so I said, “I make up for that with my love of head.”
He narrowed his eyes. “We’ll address this soon.” He cupped me, massaging my pussy.
What did that mean? I couldn’t think when he was stroking me—like he owned me. “It’s just . . . not my favorite.”
“It will be when I do it.” His confidence could almost make me believe. He released me, raising his glistening fingers between us. “A taste of what will come.” Then he licked them.
Another play on words! What will come.
As he tasted my wetness, his eyes rolled back in his head. “So—fucking—luscious!” He sucked his fingers as if he couldn’t get enough.
I moaned, just from the sight. “Dmitri.”
With a growl, he tore his fingers away. “If you deny me that, then I will have to punish you.”
“Punish?”
He pulled me to my feet and turned me to face the mirror again. “Spread your legs and put your hands on the counter. Do not move them from there.”
I hesitated, partly because of the con, partly from trepidation. With my panties around my knees and my legs parted, I rested my palms on the marble—
His palm cracked against my ass.
Comprehension came slowly. He’d . . . spanked me? I’d just been freaking spanked! I wasn’t into this at all.
But my job was to send him ever closer to sexual insanity; if a whipping lit his wick, then I’d be forced to go along with this.