“You could have anyone,” I say.
Why does he want me?
I’m a nobody, a girl who betrayed him. Is he doing this to get back at me? To show me what it feels like to be the fool?
He captures my lips again, but this time, there’s a roughness that he exudes. He’s pushing my jacket over my shoulders, and the wool coat thuds softly to the floor.
My current thoughts are pushed far from my head as his fingers guide my neck to the side. He kisses a path across my neck, claiming me.
I yelp as he leaves his mark on my skin, biting my collarbone. My neck is exposed as he drags his tongue over my flesh and his fingers inch my skirt higher.
His touch sets my body on fire.
Mikhail backs me up against the window. The cool glass pane sends a shiver through me.
“Cold?” he whispers, nipping at my neck.
“Yes,” I whisper, answering him with the truth. My nipples are hardened from the sudden chill at my back. Pretty soon, he’ll see the evidence.
With one hand, he grips my jaw. “Good. Don’t ever lie to me again, Kisa.”
Never.
He pushes my skirt higher. His fingers yank my panties aside as he teases me with his digits. He leans closer, his breath tickling my ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
My lips part, but the words don’t follow.
Mikhail pulls back, releasing me from his clutches.
“Why’d you stop?” My heart is pounding, slamming against my ribcage. I’d have given myself completely over to him to do with as he pleases.
He chuckles under his breath. “Kisa, you must answer me when I ask you a question.” His thumb strokes my cheek, and I lean into his touch.
“I’ll answer you,” I say. It takes more energy than I ever imagined to speak, to voice the simple thought of ‘yes’ aloud.
His fingers guide me to the sofa, and he turns me around to face the arm of the couch. “Bend over,” he instructs, guiding me forward as he lifts my skirt.
There’s a coolness that caresses my skin as the air reaches my panty-clad bottom. He tugs the satin material down to the floor, and his fingers smooth over my ass before he paints my cheeks.
“Ouch!” I gasp and clench my buttocks. My eyes widen, and I pull away, standing up, covering myself. My skirt falls back around my waist. “Did you just spank me?”
He grabs me by the waist and puts me against him. His fingers slip under my skirt. “Spread your legs,” he orders.
I do as he commands. “I ought to teach you a lesson for lying and betraying me,” Mikhail says.
I inhale a sharp breath. “Are you going to spank me again?” The room feels a thousand degrees, and I have half a mind to discard all my clothes, but if he’s going to put me over his knee, I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.
“That is one type of punishment,” he says.
Mikhail’s fingers stroke me beneath my skirt, exploring my folds.
I exhale a sharp breath as his touch ignites a throbbing sensation at my core. It’s rare that any man has brought me over the edge. Usually, they’re fast, quick, and looking to satisfy only themselves.
But already, Mikhail is different.
“You’re wet, Kisa. The punishment, while, usually, I find quite effective, I’m concerned that you might enjoy it a little too much.” He smacks my pussy, and a low, guttural moan slips out.
The throbbing sensation only further intensifies, and Mikhail seems pleased with his accomplishment.
“Your punishment will be determined later,” he grunts as he loosens his belt and unzips his slacks.
“Good,” I whisper, letting my gaze wander lower.
Reaching out, I help him out of his pants and his boxers, and drop to my knees, wanting to take him into my mouth.
He grabs a fistful of my hair, bringing me back to stand. “Later,” he says. “Right now, I want to feel your tight little pussy around my cock. I want to hear you scream my name.”
My insides throb at his words, at his dominance. He’s unlike any man I’ve ever slept with. None have ever been a member of the bratva, let alone the leader.
I undo two buttons on his shirt before he rips the material off, the white cotton falling to the floor. “You were taking too long,” he says.
He’s gorgeous, and while I’d seen him naked earlier, I hadn’t been able to admire his chiseled abs and glowing physique. My palm caresses his chest and down his abdomen, feeling his muscles beneath my touch.
“Come with me.” He leads me to the arm of the sofa. “Spread your legs,” he whispers against my ear. Mikhail’s hand guides me forward, pushing me down against the sofa, over the arm, as he thrusts into me.
He’s not the least bit gentle or slow. And I’m grateful that we’re both wanting the same thing. My fingers claw at the upholstered couch as I lean forward.
His cock pounds into me, and I reach around with one hand to touch my clit.
“What are you doing?” His voice is rough and sharp.
What the fuck does he think I’m doing?
“Throwing a party,” I retort.