by Sophia Gray
“Regretting your contract with me?” I asked teasingly, almost too tired to smile at him.
But then a ribbon of fear cut through me. What if it hadn’t been as good for him as it had been for me? What if he fired me, ripped up the contract, threw me out, took away the nurse he sent to take care of my mom while I was away.
Without a word, Anton turned his back to me. I hadn’t realized I clawed him. There were a few faint scratches on his back. I had been so caught up in the heat of the moment. He hadn’t complained any, and he had seemed to like what I had been doing to him, but what if it had just been an act? I couldn’t read his facial expression, and the knot in my stomach grew tighter and tighter the longer he kept his silence.
He picked up his ruined shirt and twisted it into a ball. He still wasn’t wearing any clothes. Some starlight filtered through the window, giving him a halo. The way the light hit against his muscles…wow. Russian god was right.
Why did he have to be a mob boss, too? Then again, if he hadn’t been, we never would’ve gotten together. Not that I could be certain that he and I would never have met. My best friend had dated one of his men.
Slowly, he turned around to face me, his movement deliberate, controlled. “Are you regretting it?” he asked, his voice low and deep and…worried? That couldn’t be right. He had nothing to be worried about. His sexual expertise couldn’t be denied. How many women had he slept with to become such a sexual god? Not that I was complaining. I would just reap the benefit of his long hours of practice over the years.
Was I regretting it? How could he ask that? “No,” I said too quickly, shaking my head emphatically.
He laughed, the sound tickling me and making me squeeze my legs together tight. “Good. Get some rest.”
Oh. So he was leaving already. Of course. He wasn’t going to be the cuddling kind. I couldn’t forget who he was, what his job was. I couldn’t risk actually falling for him. Not that I knew much about him outside of his amazing skills in the bedroom.
Wow. One romp under the sheets — well, standing up near the bed and not actually on it — and this guy had me tied up in knots. I had to be more careful. I had to guard myself. I couldn’t risk forgetting my place. He was paying me. This was a job. Nothing more.
Anton nodded at me, and I nodded back, and then he left, quietly closing the door behind him.
Sighing with contentment, I stretched out on the bed, relishing in my sore muscles. Not bothering to get dressed, I fell asleep quickly.
Just like earlier that night, the sound of the door opening woke me, and again, Anton was standing in the doorway. I sat up, heart pounding. Round two? Already?
I sure wasn’t going to complain about that!
Gauging by the amount of light coming in from the windows, it was just before dawn, but any bit of tiredness melted away as Anton closed the door with his foot and locked it. The click echoed in the room, and so did his footsteps as he stalked toward the bed. His gaze raked over me, taking in my nakedness.
“Ready for me, I see,” he said, his tone low and husky.
I nodded, too dazed to speak. This man affected me both powerfully and physically.
Yes, physically. That would only ever be the extent of our relationship. I had to always keep that in mind. Just a uterus. That’s all I am to him. But if that was the case, why had he done everything in his power to make me have the best orgasm ever?
“I think I like the idea of you being naked in your room at all times,” he said, his every word sending a jolt through me. He stood before me, his fingers trailing seductively up my thigh and then from my shoulder down my arm.
“I think I would like the idea of you being naked when you’re in my room with me.” I grinned at him. There was something so freeing about this — about knowing exactly where I stood with him. We were together for one purpose. I didn’t have to worry about romance. I didn’t have to worry that one of us cared more about the other — like Sam, my ex-boyfriend, who came out of nowhere and proposed way before I was ready for that kind of commitment. And I didn’t have to worry about anything other than having a good time in the sheets.
And I was so ready for another good time. He was, too, his bulge big and thick and just looking at it had me wanting to spread my legs, to let him have his way with me.
“You liked earlier?” he asked, leaning down so his body was inches from mine. The heat radiating from his body left me panting. He had hardly touched me, and I was already putty.
“Yes.” I nodded several times. Liked was an understatement. It had been so amazing.
“Good.” His grin was slow and sexy. “Are you ready for more?”
“Yes,” I repeated, trying to hide my desperation.
“Even better.” His smile grew even wider. “Are you willing to let me have my way with you?”
A delicious thrill shot straight to my core. What exactly did he mean? Have my way with you. Whatever it meant, I was ready and willing. “Yes,” I whispered. I could feel myself grow wet.
Anton took a step back, his face a chiseled mask of gorgeous beauty. “Strip me,” he demanded, his tone suggesting I better move heaven and earth to comply.
So he wanted to order me around. I could handle that. I had a feeling there weren’t going to be many things I would deny him.
I sat up, then got on all fours and crawled over to him, kneeling to be able to reach his shirt. I pulled it up over his head and leaned forward to lick one of his nipples but then hung back before my tongue could touch his skin. If he wanted to give me orders, it might be better to ask for permission or to see if he would tell me to do that.
Screw that. I wasn’t gonna ask for permission.
My tongue flicked over one nipple and then the other one.
He inhaled sharply, and I grinned as I worked on his belt. I liked that I was keeping him on his toes. The belt was finely crafted. Never thought about belts being expensive, but this one obviously was. Anton had money, and everything about him showed his wealth, power, and prestige. Even with him half naked. For a moment, I took in the sight of him, especially below the belt. His pants were tented already, and I wanted to touch his cock, to feel it, to lick it.
I unbuttoned his slacks and unzipped them. My hands didn’t shake as I pushed his pants and boxer briefs down below his ass. I wanted to reach around and grab that ass, but I thought it might be better to behave myself, so I instead leaned forward to push his clothes down more, which brought my mouth closer to his cock. Screw behaving.
But before my lips could come in contact with his cock, he pulled back so suddenly I had to grab onto the bed to prevent myself from falling over. In a quick, clearly practiced move, he stepped out of and kicked off his pants and boxer briefs, his cock sticking straight out, pointing at me.
“Now what?” I asked him eagerly. I brushed my hair back over my shoulder. This confidence I felt was amazing. I hadn’t had a ton of lovers myself, and the first couple of times Sam and I had sex, I had been so nervous I hadn’t been able to come. In all the times we had been together, I only orgasmed a handful of times. Just another one of the several reasons I couldn’t say yes when he proposed. Maybe I had been too afraid to let go, to enjoy myself with Sam, but with Anton, everything was different. It probably was because I didn’t have an emotional attachment to him. We were together to have sex, plain and simple, and that was that. While I did have a slight worry that I had to impress him, I felt like I had already passed that test and measured up to his expectations, and now I could be feel free to do whatever I wanted.
Or whatever he wanted.
Then again, maybe I should be a lot more worried about impressing Anton than I ever had with Sam. If Anton grew bored of me, what if he decided to find someone else to give him an heir? I figured his timeline to have one had to be short or else he wouldn’t be willing to pay two million dollars, but he also struck me as the kind of guy who wanted everything to be perfect. He wanted results and now, and he wasn’t going to settle for ju
st anyone, and he would definitely want to be pleasured if he was spending that kind of cash.
If I didn’t keep him happy in the bedroom, he might kick me out, and that realization made any remaining glow from earlier fade away. I crossed my arms over my chest, huddling into myself, like a turtle retreating inside of her shell.
Anton frowned, and I knew being scared wasn’t an option, so I uncrossed my arms and thrust out my chest toward him. “Now what?” I asked again, doing my best to sound as confident as I had just felt a few moments ago.
I can do this. I can do whatever he wants in the bedroom. He’s paying me well enough that I can ensure the sex is good for him. Doesn’t matter if it’s good for me, too. This is all about him.
“I don’t want you to say one word,” he said, eyeing me. My face. Not my chest.
I nodded. I could keep quiet, or try my hardest to. I tended to moan…a lot. I had turned into a screamer last night. But I had been a lot quieter with Sam. If Anton wanted silence, I could manage.
He smirked, and I wondered if he figured I’d have a hard time keeping quiet with him. I hadn’t realized at first just how loud I had been last night, too caught up in the moment, but then right when my orgasm hit, I lost control. He had pushed me over the edge, off the cliff, and screaming had been the only way I could let loose and be free.
“I want you to lie down,” he instructed, pointing at the bed.
I sprawled out on the bed and waited.
“On your back,” he dictated, moving a long finger into a circle.
I rolled over and grinned. So far, this was simple. Simple I could do.
“Arms above your head.” When I complied, he added, “Good. Now don’t move.”
Don’t move? But he said not to talk, so I couldn’t question him. I just lay there, wondering what he had planned, the waiting driving me crazy. As much as I wanted to listen and obey, I didn’t want him to be the only one to touch me. I wanted to run my hands all over his hard body. I wanted to touch and feel and explore. I wanted to learn every tender spot. I wanted to memorize his body for the long, lonely nights I’d face after we parted ways.
Something long and hard jabbed against my ass but only for a second. His hands touched my shoulders, rubbing them, messaging them, his pressure a little light, soft and gentle, like a feather. I wanted to wiggle around, to sigh, but I didn’t. I was a good girl.
Then his fingers teased down my sides, and he reached forward to pinch my nipples before resuming his massage on my back. The pinching, the sudden pain, almost got me to gasp, but I held it in. It amazed me how much control I had to exhibit to not move, to not react verbally. It heightened the experience. Made it all the more incredible.
When his fingers trailed down lower, he cupped my ass then slapped it with one hand while shoving fingers deep inside me with the other hand. And I was done.
I just couldn’t help myself any longer. I rocked back against his fingers, and a loud moan slipped out. It felt way too good for me to just accept it. I needed more. I had to have more.
He immediately withdrew and slapped my ass again, harder this time. “I thought I told you not to talk,” he scolded.
Should I apologize? Or would that earn me another slap? I opted for silence.
“Did you hear me?” he asked, and he slapped me again. So many slaps so close together hurt, but he was massaging my ass now, and damn it all, if I wasn’t wet — really wet. I was a mess, a hot mess. He was taking bits and pieces of me, and I didn’t know if I could ever be put back to right again.
I nodded to answer his question, hoping that would appease him.
“Good.” He shoved three fingers inside me. “So wet,” he murmured, his voice softer now but still with a slight edge. “Do you want me?”
I nodded frantically, pleading with him with my eyes.
“Good.” His grin was wicked, and just staring at him left me wanting.
But he pulled out two fingers, and I fought back a moan. I wanted more. I needed more. I fought the urge to roll my hips. I fought the urge to groan. I fought, and I won, but I also felt like I lost, too.
He finger-fucked me lazily for a minute with one finger, and I was dying for more. When he removed that finger, too, I scowled. This was torture, and I began to daydream about ways that I could get him back if he ever gave me that level of control. I knew he needed to exhibit power in all aspects of his life. I might not have known him for long, but I could tell power and control were huge issues for him. If he could just let go for once, to cut all ties, to give into freedom, maybe he wouldn’t be quite so uptight. Maybe then he could relax and enjoy life. Maybe I would start with a massage and trail my fingers down his hard muscles.
But I doubted I could be slow and torturous with him. I would just get right to it and hoped he could last a long while. Something about him made me want to just give of myself…of my body at least.
Suddenly, his hands found my waist, and he flipped me over. “Remember,” he warned. “Don’t move.” He climbed on top of me, his mouth inches from mine. “Do you understand?”
I nodded. Guess nodding was all I was allowed to do. Anticipation was building inside of me, but I tried to feign indifference. I didn’t want to seem too overly eager. I didn’t want him to realize just how much of a hold of my body he had already.
Anton began at my shoulders again, massaging me. His hands went down my arms, and he entwined our fingers as he pressed against me with his cock. So big and hard. I shivered.
His mouth found mine, his tongue deep, and I fought back a moan as I kissed him back hard and passionate, all fire and heat. Just the one kiss, and then he released my mouth, and my hands, and resumed massaging me, though now his hands were touching my sides, featherlight. He skipped over my breasts — which didn’t surprise me — and he began to rub my feet.
Some people might not like feet, but I loved having my feet touched, and he knew how to massage, his fingers working my muscles deep but not enough to cause pain. He knew how to walk the line between pleasure and pain, and he always came out on the right side of it.
My nipples hardened, and I so badly wanted to touch them, to touch myself, to give in and seek the relief Anton obviously didn’t care that he was creating inside of me, that he obviously had no burning desire to unburden me from. He had me in a puddle, and if he asked me to do anything at that point in exchange for that relief, I would give in without question.
My toes were curling, that I couldn’t stop. A slow burn was creeping up my legs, and I so wanted it to reach my core, and, good Lord, he was torturing me. When would this end?
Then again, I never wanted it to end.
I gripped the blanket beneath me and ground my teeth so I wouldn’t talk. I wouldn’t give into him. I wouldn’t break. Not anymore.
“Good girl,” he murmured into my ear. He blew hot air onto my neck, and I shivered again.
Tears prickled behind my closed eyelids. This was too much to bear. I had to find a way to get off, or else I was going to go mad. Maybe that was his plan. To make me need him even more than just for his money. So I would become blinded to all other things. So I would be willing to do everything he asked. To make me not question him and his background.
But I didn’t want to think right now. I just wanted to feel and experience and enjoy.
“Am I teasing you too much?” he asked. He wasn’t by my face anymore, his fingers rubbing up and down my calves.
A trick question. I could nod, but I had a feeling he wanted to tease me, that he wasn’t ready to stop regardless of how I answered.
“What do you want?” he asked. His thumbs rubbed the top of my feet. So good. “What do you want?” he asked again.
Not a fair question. It required more than a yes or no response, and I wasn’t supposed to talk. He was trying to trap me, to trick me.
“What do you want?” he asked again. He slid his hand up my legs and paused at my knees. It took everything in me not to spread my legs. “I think I know.”
His large hands pushed my legs apart farther, to my happiness, and he lowered his head and began to kiss and lick and suck. It was just what I needed. The release I sought came quickly, and I did my best to control myself, to muffle my moan, but all of a sudden, I felt his soft hair through my fingers.
Whoops. I shouldn’t have done that. Had been too caught up in my pleasure, and I just had to reach out and touch him.
I released my hold on his hair. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, not wanting him to stop, knowing he would.
Would he punish me for defying him? Why does the thought of that make me even wetter?
He immediately stopped licking my pussy and stood. “I can’t blame you,” he said, staring down at me with hooded eyes. “It felt too good for you to hold back.”