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But I can’t stop my groan of pleasure as Bebe reaches inside my boxers and pulls my swollen cock out. I want her off me, but her touch numbs the ache in my chest and dulls my conscience. All I see and feel is her.
Stop this, my brain warns, but it’s too late. My vision blurs as she trails her nails down my hard shaft, my balls tightening the more she strokes. At the low rumble in my throat, she releases her grip. Taking my hand in hers, she guides it between her legs. Neither of us breathes as she curls my fingers under the edge of her G-string.
I grit my teeth, fighting my way through this haze of lust. But then she brushes my hand against her pussy, dragging my finger through her slick heat.
“Mik…” she moans.
“Da?”
“Touch me.”
Permission. It’s a deadly lie.
She’s pushed me too far. My soul is too dark. The self-control I pride myself on evaporates, leaving only the starving animal.
And he’s ready to feast.
CHAPTER SIX
ZASHA
I told Mik at our most basic level, all humans are animals. It was a line crafted to break through his defenses and taunt the man behind the mask.
I didn’t know how prophetic those words would become.
“How old are you?” The pale blue of his eyes has all but disappeared.
“Twenty-five.” It’s a lie, but I want to push him and find out his secrets. But in a heartbeat, the promise to protect my family fades away as a current of lust and danger fills the room.
He was right. The red room is off-limits. I picked it on purpose as a middle finger to a father who still sees me as a little girl instead of accepting the woman I’ve become.
I never thought about the consequences.
Because it was never supposed to get this far.
This was supposed to be a game to derail him, but the rules have changed. Roles have changed. I’m no longer in control.
“Be sure, lisichka. Once I touch; I take.” Mik’s cold and mechanical tone now drips with heat and possession.
“Is that a promise?”
“No. It is a warning. One that smart girls take seriously.” Without another word, he shoves two fingers inside me, my walls molding around them, a prelude to my destruction.
I throw my head back, gasping at the invasion. “Mik!”
“A warning, lisichka,” he repeats. “You may dance in the dark, but you cannot accept the reality of it.”
I still, his words becoming the Molotov Cocktail to an already simmering fire.
How dare he?
I’m Zasha Gaheris.
A Chernov.
Bratva fucking royalty.
“Maybe it’s you who can’t accept reality, Mikhail.” At my use of his full name, his fingers dive deeper, and I bite back a groan. “Maybe you’ve been fucking weak women for so long, you’ve forgotten a real one doesn’t just dance in the dark. She owns it.”
