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His movements turn more aggressive, and he takes my lower lip between his teeth, tugging and sucking on it. Our breathing grows rough as he ruts into me, growing faster and more desperate with each thrust.
One of my hands reaches down to find his belt buckle, but when I start to unclasp it with clumsy fingers, he grabs my wrist.
“Be patient, malishka,” he warns, his voice ragged. “I won’t be claiming your pussy today.”
“Please…” I moan, rolling my hips against him, begging him for more.
He sets me down, and my feet land on the floor to hold myself upright again. He takes a step back while keeping a firm grip on my shoulders. But the way his blazer is wrinkled and his hair mussed drives me wild—it isn’t often he looks less than perfect.
“What are you doing Saturday?” he asks. His question is abrupt.
I’m still trying to catch my breath, and I press my thighs together to stem the raging fire there. “Um, nothing?”
He reaches into his blazer and pulls out a matte gold envelope, which he hands to me.
“What’s this?”
“A formal invitation to my birthday party. And I expect you to come wrapped in a bow for me to tear open.”
I glance up at him through my lashes. “You want my pussy for your birthday?”
“Yes,” he says, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “And I’m accustomed to getting what I want.”
His dark promise sends delicious shivers through every nerve ending, as though my body knows Alek will take it to places it’s never been before.
I open the envelope and slide the invitation out. “This is a formal event?”
“It’s a boring cocktail party for my father’s colleagues. The real party will start later at the hunting lodge.”
“I really don’t mind coming earlier,” I say. “I can keep you… occupied.”
I bring my finger to his chest, dragging it down his front until I reach his belt. But he grabs my hand to stop me, and he doesn’t appear amused in the slightest.
“Willow, this is serious. When you arrive, I want you to head straight for the hunting lodge. Do not come to the ballroom.”
His use of my name is jarring, and I yank my hand away. “What, are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”
I move to step by him, but his hand wraps around my neck to hold me in place. He pins me against the wall, squeezing my throat in his firm grip.
The look on his face is one I’ve never seen him wear, and it makes my insides curl.
Fear.
“I want everyone to know you’re mine,” he says darkly. “Everyone except for my father.”
“Why?” I rasp.
“Because he doesn’t want us to be together. He thinks it sends the wrong message to the Russian oligarchs who put us in office. The president’s son must show allegiance to Russia, which means the U.S. Ambassador’s daughter is off-limits.” His grip tightens. “I need you to promise me you’ll be careful. Stay off my father’s radar.”
“So,” I choke out, “we’re in a relationship now, but it’s a secret?”
The twisted expression he gives is my answer. “Yes. Promise me.”
“Okay, I promise.”
He releases my neck, and I suck in a deep breath to fill my lungs. Turning his back to me, he walks to the bed and takes a seat at the end. His fingers rake through his hair.
Seeing this vulnerable side of him scares me more than the knife-wielding maniac in the house of mirrors. I didn’t think he was afraid of anything or anyone.
