question about what I really want, it's gone now. I can't even pretend to lie anymore. I swallow hard, my grip loosening on her hair, my eyes growing hooded as I begin to surrender.
Get it together, Dmitri. You can't do this. She only wants you because she's being paid. And if not that, then she only wants you because you're famous.
I summon up what tiny bit of resolve I have left and grab her wrists. The sexual need in me is too strong, though, the desire to dominate her and make her mine. I force her down onto the sofa, holding her arms above her head. The tight fit of her dress is keeping me from getting between her legs, making the position awkward. It's probably the only saving grace.
The heat in her eyes is almost palpable. Her body writhes up to greet mine. My cock aches from being so close to her. Seeing her lying helpless beneath me does things to me, things I can't control or deny.
Her little pink tongue flicks out to trace over her top lip, and I lose it completely. I want to kiss her. Need to kiss her. I hesitate for but a moment before my last shred of resistance finally falls away. This is happening, whether she's paid or not. I don't care anymore.
I lean in to kiss her, closing my eyes, every fiber of my being bent on tasting those soft, perfect lips.
And then my phone rings.
PEPPER
God. Fucking. Dammit!
I don't think I've ever been hornier in my entire life.
Dmitri crawls off of me like my body is on fire, leaving me a wanton mess on the sofa. My lips are still puckered, my eyes still closed, waiting for the kiss to happen. I have half a mind to grab his phone and chuck it across the room. Why did he have to answer it? Why couldn't he have just ignored it and kissed me? He was so close to being mine. Right in my grasp. But now...
I sit up and stare at his backside. Not only did he get off of me, but he also walked several feet away. I scowl at him. There's no harm in it if he can't see it. And besides, I'm pissed.
He ends the call and turns to me, looking a bit flustered. “The taxi is here. We should go.”
“That was quick,” I grumble, standing and straightening my dress.
My panties are so wet that I worry they might have soaked through. The way that Dmitri forced me down onto the sofa had every nerve in my core firing off with premature contractions. I liked that he held my wrists—loved the smoldering look in his eyes. His cock was so hard. It still is, by the looks of it. I want to peel those jeans off of him and wrap my hand around it, wrap my mouth around it. Stupid phone call. Stupid taxi. Stupid hunger.
“Come on.” He opens the door for me, ushering me out in a hurry.
From the moment we're inside the elevator, I keep glancing over at him, my mind going back into the gutter. Now would be the perfect time to advance on him again, to have some kinky elevator sex.
Dmitri grabs my hand once the elevator reaches the bottom floor, and we take long strides through the hotel to the taxi. It boggles my mind that we're not riding in a limo. He is the Dmitri Strife, right? James didn't lie to me, and I'm not just imagining it. Why would he want to travel around like a commoner?
I sit beside him in the backseat, resting my head on his shoulder. He smells deliciously masculine. My fingers want to wander back between his legs, to feel the firmness of his manhood, but I know that's too crude, and I don't want to anger him. He already seems uncomfortable as it is, his body rigid. Part of me is amused that I got him so worked up, but part of me is also concerned that I'm coming on too strong. Should an escort wait for the client to pursue her? I'm honestly not sure.
The cab ride is spent in silence. It might be awkward if not for my mind replaying the living room scene over and over again. I should probably stop thinking about it because it's just keeping me turned on and making me want to do naughty things to him. I wonder if this is how he thought the night
Get it together, Dmitri. You can't do this. She only wants you because she's being paid. And if not that, then she only wants you because you're famous.
I summon up what tiny bit of resolve I have left and grab her wrists. The sexual need in me is too strong, though, the desire to dominate her and make her mine. I force her down onto the sofa, holding her arms above her head. The tight fit of her dress is keeping me from getting between her legs, making the position awkward. It's probably the only saving grace.
The heat in her eyes is almost palpable. Her body writhes up to greet mine. My cock aches from being so close to her. Seeing her lying helpless beneath me does things to me, things I can't control or deny.
Her little pink tongue flicks out to trace over her top lip, and I lose it completely. I want to kiss her. Need to kiss her. I hesitate for but a moment before my last shred of resistance finally falls away. This is happening, whether she's paid or not. I don't care anymore.
I lean in to kiss her, closing my eyes, every fiber of my being bent on tasting those soft, perfect lips.
And then my phone rings.
PEPPER
God. Fucking. Dammit!
I don't think I've ever been hornier in my entire life.
Dmitri crawls off of me like my body is on fire, leaving me a wanton mess on the sofa. My lips are still puckered, my eyes still closed, waiting for the kiss to happen. I have half a mind to grab his phone and chuck it across the room. Why did he have to answer it? Why couldn't he have just ignored it and kissed me? He was so close to being mine. Right in my grasp. But now...
I sit up and stare at his backside. Not only did he get off of me, but he also walked several feet away. I scowl at him. There's no harm in it if he can't see it. And besides, I'm pissed.
He ends the call and turns to me, looking a bit flustered. “The taxi is here. We should go.”
“That was quick,” I grumble, standing and straightening my dress.
My panties are so wet that I worry they might have soaked through. The way that Dmitri forced me down onto the sofa had every nerve in my core firing off with premature contractions. I liked that he held my wrists—loved the smoldering look in his eyes. His cock was so hard. It still is, by the looks of it. I want to peel those jeans off of him and wrap my hand around it, wrap my mouth around it. Stupid phone call. Stupid taxi. Stupid hunger.
“Come on.” He opens the door for me, ushering me out in a hurry.
From the moment we're inside the elevator, I keep glancing over at him, my mind going back into the gutter. Now would be the perfect time to advance on him again, to have some kinky elevator sex.
Dmitri grabs my hand once the elevator reaches the bottom floor, and we take long strides through the hotel to the taxi. It boggles my mind that we're not riding in a limo. He is the Dmitri Strife, right? James didn't lie to me, and I'm not just imagining it. Why would he want to travel around like a commoner?
I sit beside him in the backseat, resting my head on his shoulder. He smells deliciously masculine. My fingers want to wander back between his legs, to feel the firmness of his manhood, but I know that's too crude, and I don't want to anger him. He already seems uncomfortable as it is, his body rigid. Part of me is amused that I got him so worked up, but part of me is also concerned that I'm coming on too strong. Should an escort wait for the client to pursue her? I'm honestly not sure.
The cab ride is spent in silence. It might be awkward if not for my mind replaying the living room scene over and over again. I should probably stop thinking about it because it's just keeping me turned on and making me want to do naughty things to him. I wonder if this is how he thought the night
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