When they go to give Chelle big hugs, I warn, “Grope my girlfriend, and I’ll break all your fingers.”
A chorus of good-natured whoa and whoos goes up, and they opt to shake her hand instead, which is good, because I wasn’t fucking joking.
She may not be my girlfriend, but no one’s going to get fresh with her on my watch.
In fact, I may have to appoint myself her permanent bodyguard if she’s taking on these clowns as her personal clients.
“Thank you. You were great,” Chelle says when we get back in the SUV.
I smile but don’t answer. I like making her happy. I like making her come even more.
When I pull up to her place, I find a parking spot and turn off the engine.
Chelle goes rigid again. “You're not coming up with me because this wasn't a real date,” she says.
I can’t stand the idea of sex as a transaction, so I definitely wasn’t thinking she owed me, but my dick has been hard ever since she ground that little ass over my lap and let me fuck her with my fingers, so I’m not quite ready to give up.
“Right, it wasn’t a date, it was a favor.” I put a suggestive note in my voice and twist to face her. Her hand is on the door handle, but she hasn’t pulled it yet. “Hmm. I'll add it to what you owe me then.” Remembering the price I exacted for the last favor I gave, I reach for her nape and tug her mouth to mine.
Her breath tastes like cinnamon mints, and her lips are as willing as her tight little body was back at Rue’s. I kiss her slowly, savoring the softness of her mouth, the tentative movement of her tongue between my lips.
When I end it, her eyes are dilated. She still doesn’t open the door. “Was that part of what I owe you?”
“No, that was me taking what I want,” I admit.
“What do I owe you?”
“Oh, you'll know when I call it in.” My voice sounds deeper than usual. I have to shift to rearrange my junk.
“You don't want to call it in tonight?” Her voice is husky.
I go still as my lust collides with the need to retain a little fucking pride.
I cock my head. “So it's okay for me to come up if it's a transaction but not if it's a date?”
She goes still. Her lips part, but she has no answer for that.
It’s not entirely fair. She may have changed her mind because of the kiss, not because I’m not worthy, but I don’t like feeling like my dick’s in the wind here.
I tip my head toward the door. “Get out.” I say it lightly to take away the sting.
She blinks. “What?”
“Get out, Chelle, we're done.”
It still takes her a minute before she moves and when she does, there’s dismay in her expression. Her golden eyes are round and sorry. “Okay,” she says as she slides out of the seat and drops to the ground. “Um, bye.”
I nod but don’t answer. She swings the door shut then stops it halfway and puts her head back in. She opens her mouth. Shuts it again. “Yeah.” She shuts the door.
I wait until I see she’s safely in the building before I drive off. As I do, the finality of my words starts to crush me from the inside out. Did I mean it? That we’re done?
Yeah, I guess I did.
There’s no room for anything but sex. She wants the bad boy to get her off a few times without any structure of a relationship.
And for once in my life, I want something more. I deserve more.
After a lifetime of just trying to keep me and my twin alive, it’s time to look beyond Friday night games and making money for the boss.
Everyone else has love.
Why can’t I too?
My phone buzzes when I’m almost back at the Kremlin. I know without looking that it will be Chelle.
I feel like I offended you. I'm sorry. You were great tonight with the clients.
I don't answer.
I’m not a baby. It’s not that I’m so offended or she hurt my feelings. I just realized it was time to cut bait. Chelle fascinates me, but it couldn’t work.
I pull into the underground parking lot and park Oleg’s SUV. On the elevator up to my floor, she texts again.
It's just that I don't know how to have sex with someone without marrying them in my mind.
I try not to warm up to her. This confess-all is cute, but it still doesn’t mean—
Another text comes through. I think I like the idea of sex as a transaction in the same way 1 in 5 women have fantasies of being forced. Or want to be tied up.
Aw, fuck. Now I can’t resist. Do you want me to tie you up, Chelle? I text back. The elevator doors slide open, and I step out, stopping in the empty hallway to wait for her reply.
What am I doing? I just decided at her place that I wanted more than sex, and it wasn’t going to happen with her.
Um...yes? Maybe?
Why does she have to be so damn adorable? Everything she does is cute. I just can’t get enough of it.
Before I can stop myself, I text, Want to make a deal with the devil?
My dick thickens at the wicked idea dancing around in my head. I ignore my hard-on and walk to my apartment.
I know it’s against my rules. I know I wanted the real deal and not meaningless sex, but this is the opening she gave me. She doesn’t want to date me. She wants sex as a transaction.
So, fuck it—she’s worth breaking my rules for. I want her beneath me, writhing that tight little body of hers and moaning my name. I wouldn’t mind a bit if she was tied up while I’m at it. Maybe she could wear my collar and a ball-gag. Call me Daddy or Master or Sir.
And I thought our bratva brother Pavel was the kinky one.
I use the keycard to open my door and walk inside. The place has never felt emptier. Leaving the lights off, I go straight to the bedroom and flop on my back.
Are you the devil? her message comes through.
I snort as I text back, Obviously.
Maybe, she replies.
Yes or no?
Yes?
I shouldn’t. Not because it’s wrong but because sex is not a currency I accept. I mean, it’s not like I can pay out my brothers their share. Well, I technically could, but I’d sooner cut my own balls off.
Fuck it.
30 nights and your brother's free.
As soon as I type it, I get hard as stone.
She texts back almost immediately. Consecutive?
Blyad’, she’s mine. My dick goes rock hard. I unzip my pants to let it out, but I don’t let myself stroke it. The torture suddenly feels good. I could have Chelle’s pouty lips stretched around my length by tomorrow night. I could turn her ass pink again and listen to her sweet little moans. Put her on her knees for me and teach her how to serve.
I am the devil, and I’m not even a little bit sorry for breaking my own rules.
Yes. I own you for one month, I text her. You leave, you forfeit all.
She doesn’t answer for a moment, and I start to sweat. Maybe she’ll tell me no. She’s definitely thinking about it.
Do I get hard limits? It can’t interfere with my job.
I almost fist pump in the darkness. I type back, The job is a hard limit. What else?
Anal?
No deal. I’m fucking that cute ass of yours, or we’re not playing.
Eek.
I chuckle out loud. My room suddenly feels like a bedroom again, not this empty space where I lay my body at night.