Dirty Obsessions - The Lion and The Mouse - Page 81

At first, I couldn’t even shoot any part of the paper target. With more of his instruction, I began to hit my target, putting holes in the bullseye several times.

Hours later, Misha took me back to our bedroom. To my shock, someone had decorated the space with flowers and lit candles. A table was in the center. Two women in all black brought plates to the table. On the right was a buffet section full of sweet and savory smelling dishes.

“Misha, this is amazing.”

“You didn’t think I would leave you without a little romance.”

“Of course not.”

“I have to stay in your mind while I’m gone.”

“Romantic dinner or not, you would be on my mind.”

“That’s how I like it.”

We sat down at the table. The women placed portions of food onto our plates. A small bowl of borscht was next to each of our plates. Since moving to Russia, borscht had become one of my favorite dishes. Although originating from the Ukraine, Russians quickly adopted it. With a beet base, meat and tons of sautéed vegetables filled the soup. The best part was the dollop of sour cream right on top.

I went to the borscht first, tried a spoonful, and moaned in pleasure.

Misha didn’t eat. Instead, he took a sip of his glass. He flinched when he swallowed.

I eyed him. “That doesn’t look like water.”

“How can you tell?”

“When you swallowed, you squinted a little.”

“It’s vodka.”

I held my spoonful of borscht in mid-air. “You’re more than stressed.”

“I have several plays to make. Each will determine the ease of these next days.”

I placed my spoon in the bowl. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“You won’t.”

“And. . .” I gripped the edge of the table. “You would tell me any other way I can help?”

“I would.” He took another gulp of his vodka.

I watched him. “What could relax you even more than the vodka?”

“You don’t want me to drink?”

“I want you to be completely focused. The vodka might not help.”

“It may.”

“And you haven’t slept.”

“I’ll sleep on the plane.”

“You need to relieve some of your stress.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“You’ll see.” I gestured to the women and nicely told them in Russian to leave. He quirked his brows. The women left the room and closed the door.

He placed his glass down. “What’s this?”

I rose, walked over to him, and lowered to my knees. “I can think of other ways to relax you.”

“Ava.”

“Move your chair.”

He rubbed his face with both hands. “You don’t have—”

“You’re the boss.” I gave him a wicked smile. “Don’t you deserve it?”

He licked his lips, got in position, unbuttoned his jeans, and scooted them down his sculpted thighs. I freed his cock from those boxer briefs. It hung long and thick in front of me.

I caressed the mushroomed tip. “How long have you had this erection?”

“It came when you started shooting.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off its fat hardness. “My shooting turned you on?”

“First, it’s watching you dance. Now the second is the sight of you shooting.”

“We’ll have to go to the shooting range more often.” I kissed the tip.

He hissed.

I lay soft kisses on the fleshy part of the tip. “How much time do I have?”

He pierced me with an intense gaze. “Take all the fucking time you want, Ava.”

“Are you sure?” I lapped at the tip.

He grunted. “Don’t play with me.”

“Oh really, Mr. Stronz? You don’t like games?”

He gripped the sides of his chair. “This isn’t nice.”

“Karma is a bitch sucking your dick. Isn’t it?”

He grinned. “That’s fair.”

I kissed the tip again. “Say sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for dominating every part of my body last night.”

“I won’t apologize for that.”

“Are you sure?” I held my mouth close to his length but didn’t touch it. Then, I blew air on the tip.

He groaned.

“I can’t hear you.”

His voice held pleading. “Sorry, my beautiful ballerina.”

“Hmmm.” And then I sucked his cock into my mouth, loving every inch. Even though it was hard to get him all into my mouth, I did my best. Grunting, he stirred under me. Up and down, I slipped my mouth on his cock, wetting the entire length with my saliva.

“Ava.” Groaning, he cupped his hand around the back of my head and guided me through the blow job. That move made my pussy wet. I loved how even when he was in a powerless position, he still dominated.

“Fuck. You always do this to me.” He tried to move my mouth away.

I kept it there and sucked him in deeper. It caused me to gag a little. Saliva dripped out of my mouth as I lifted my head.

Catching my breath, I held his cock in my hand. Precum beaded at the tip. I lapped at it. Misha shuddered under me. When I looked at him, his eyes were low and sleepy.

He gazed down at me. “You’re going to make me stay here and not go to Paris at all. Already I feel like saying fuck it.”

Tags: Kenya Wright Romance
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