She doesn’t answer.
“Do I need to make you call me master, little bunny?”
“No,” she gasps. “Sorry. I understand.”
“Good girl.” My cock swells even more with pleasure. I won’t last long.
I shove in harder, but she’s so light I scoot her up the bed with each thrust. I grip her nape to hold her in place. She gets even wetter, like that turns her on.
“You like being held down, Chelle?” I ask.
Her pussy’s molten now, deliciously slick but tight.
“Hmm?”
“Maybe. I think so,” she gasps. She arches her ass up to meet my thrusts, making her slender back curve in the most delicious way.
I chuckle. “I think so, too. I’ll definitely be tying you to this bed, little bunny.”
Her pussy clenches around my cock.
“Uh oh. You’re not trying to come are you?”
“I—I, oh God.” She orgasms.
“Bad girl.” I fuck her harder. Faster.
Her fingers twist into the sheets. She lifts her head. “Yes… yes.” She sounds desperate even though she’s already come. Maybe I didn’t let her finish.
Too bad. She broke my rules. It’s all about my climax now. I put a snap into my hips, slapping her ass with my loins, driving deep with a brutal force.
“Blyad.’ Blyad’!” I shout as my balls draw up tight. I slam in deep and fill the condom with the most satisfying orgasm I’ve had in years. Maybe ever.
Chelle comes too, her internal muscles squeezing and pulsing around my dick, making me come even harder.
I don’t want to ever stop, it feels so good. I close my eyes and savor it, then withdraw and shove into her again to wring a little more pleasure out of both of us.
“Next time you disobey me, I’m going to fuck that cute little ass of yours,” I growl, lowering my head down to bite her shoulder.
She climaxes a little more, and I’m flooded with warmth and affection for her. I kiss down the column of her neck as I settle between her legs for a moment. She makes a soft humming sound that seems to fill all the empty spaces in my heart.
I don’t know why I care so much about her satisfaction when I made the deal for me. But then, that might be a lie. I may have made the deal all for her. Because she wanted to have sex with me without it counting. And she wanted her brother out from under my thumb.
I’m the one who had rules against accepting sex in trade. I’m the one who wanted more than sex.
I’m going to have to watch out. Chelle Goldberg may be at my beck and call, but I’m the one who’s wrapped firmly around her little finger.
11
Chelle
I sleep until ten. I’m not used to sleeping naked. Or waking up sore and well-used. It all feels deliciously dirty.
I stretch in Nikolai’s wonderfully comfortable bed and look around. He’s not in the bedroom. I hear rustling coming from the living room.
Part of me wants to hide here in the bedroom. Maybe go back to sleep and delay the awkwardness, but I find myself magnetized to Nikolai’s presence. Even though I packed two suitcases of my own clothes, I open his drawers until I find one of his soft undershirts, and I pull it on and pad to the living room.
If I’d forgotten overnight what Nikolai is, it all comes rushing back. He’s devastatingly sexy, looking freshly showered and dressed. He’s sitting on his couch with a laptop and stacks of cash in front of him. I shove down the judgement and anxiety his occupation brings and walk over. “On a scale of one to ten, how illegal is what you do?” I ask, waving a hand at the money.
His sexy lips quirk. “Come here.” He holds an arm out to me.
I walk over, and he tugs me onto his lap, his hands immediately exploring under the t-shirt. I squirm as he cups one breast at the same time he strokes my upper thigh.
“You look beautiful in my shirt,” he murmurs, his teeth scoring my shoulder.
I squirm some more, getting turned on by his obvious attraction for me.
“I was going to insist you stay naked when you’re in my apartment, but I guess I’ll let you leave it on for now.”
I squeeze my thighs together, both turned on and offended by his words. All I can manage to say is, “Meep.”
I never considered he would make me stay naked. I really didn’t know what to expect when we made this arrangement. My imagination couldn’t conjure much more than being tied up or spanked again.
Both of those scenarios excite me.
The idea of being forced to be naked shocks me, but it also makes me wet and hot, so I guess on some level I must like it.
“What do you like for breakfast? I have yogurt. Or eggs. Or we can order in.”
“I usually eat yogurt,” I tell him, sliding off his lap. I decide to act like I own the place rather than slink around and ask permission. I open his refrigerator and find my favorite brand and flavor of yogurt— the Greek kind with mango chunks. “This yogurt’s great,” I tell him as I crack it open.
I find a spoon and walk back to the living room to watch him place wraps on the money and stack it up.
“How much did you make?” I drop onto the sofa beside him.
“Twenty. Not a great night.” He shrugs. “And I shouldn’t have told you that. Don’t ask me about business again, okay? It’s for your own protection. You don’t want to become a potential witness or an accessory.”
My heart thuds against my breastbone, that fight-or-flight cold washing over me. I can’t decide if I’m scared for myself or for him.
He looks at me. “It’s low on the scale.” I realize he’s answering my earlier question. “Hardly illegal at all.”
I eat my yogurt slowly, savoring the smooth creaminess. “How did you get into the mafia?”
“Bratva.”
“What?”
“Russian mafiya is called bratva. For brotherhood. My brother and I were recruited out of secondary.”
“What is secondary? Like middle school?”
Nikolai’s forehead wrinkles. “No, it’s the end of schooling. You call it high school, I guess.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen.” The money is stacked, and Nikolai shuts the laptop and sits back. “My brother’s girlfriend was dying of cancer. He heard about this treatment. You know, he thought it could save her life. I got the bratva to loan us the money.” He shrugs. “Of course, we couldn't pay it back. The trade was for our lives.”
My breakfast sinks to the bottom of my stomach. I don’t know why I never considered how Nikolai got in. I sort of made the assumption that he likes money and flashy cars and sex with lots of women, and that’s why he does what he does.
I digest everything he said. “So you and your brother are twins?” I remember the guy who looked just like him, except with glasses, from the hotel suite.
“Da.”
“What’s his name?”
“Dima.”
“And what happened with his girlfriend?”
“Dead.”
I figured, but it still makes me sad. “I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago. He has a new girlfriend now. They moved away a few months ago, so she could go to school.”