He’s up in my face in an instant, his clutch on my face anything but kind. “I said no.”
His reply is stern and to the point, but it doesn’t weaken my determination in the slightest because it isn’t anger in his eyes, it’s worry. “You said I could help.”
“Fixing your parents’ fuck-ups isn’t your job.”
With every ounce of my self-control lost, I shout, “It isn’t yours either, but you’re still doing it!”
I don’t solely mean my parents. From what I’ve overheard the past few days before Dr. Bates was seen following Dimitri to Frosty Kinks, Dimitri’s father was suspect number one. As far as I’m concerned, he still deserves to be watched. Dr. Bates isn’t operating alone. Our one-on-one talk included the words ‘our’ and ‘we’ much too often to believe he’s the sole operator of a baby-making franchise.
Before I can announce that to Dimitri, I’m yanked off the kitchen cabinet by my wrist, bent over the island bench I made a mess of while preparing an early breakfast, exposed by the high lift of my dressing gown, then spanked like I’m a naughty child.
I fight his first three spanks, but by the fourth, I’m nothing but putty in the hands of a madman. Just like the public punishment he issued me in a room many miles from here, his spanking offers the perfect amount of pleasure and pain. The heat racing across my backside is enough to have my back molars gritting together, but the slap of his fingertips against an area that hasn’t stopped buzzing the past twelve hours is unbelievably divine.
I’m hot all over in an instant and doing everything in my power not to beg for more. I love how he towers over me. It’s like he’s a big brooding giant, and I’m a naughty little fairy who loves pushing his buttons.
The lust roaring through my veins doubles when Dimitri growls, “Tell me again how you’re planning to walk out on me?” I thought his anger centered around my request to be a part of the search today. I had no clue it was from me mentioning an upcoming departure.
I want to answer him, to tell him I’d stay a lifetime if he’d let me, but lose the chance when his spanking hand switches to nurturing. He rubs my butt cheeks that are clenched in pain before he lowers his hand to a wetness more prominent than the pancake batter. His fingertips barely caress the aching flesh, but it feels like he’s tugging at my clit with his teeth.
I discover the reason for his unusual gentleness when he says, “You’re still swollen from taking me last night.”
His breaths quiver as much as my thighs when I reply, “I don’t care.”
“You may not care, but I do.” His voice is so low, I’m reasonably sure his words weren’t for me.
I almost whine when he lowers my dressing gown until its hem floats above the marble floors of his kitchen, but it’s gobbled up by a moan when he growls out, “Ass on the countertop. I’m about ready for a second helping of breakfast.”
Not waiting for my shock to sink in, he twists me around, throws off the dishware stained with remnants of our shared breakfast, then lifts me onto the kitchen counter as if I’m weightless. A moan unlike anything I’ve ever heard before rolls up my chest when my backside’s collision with the gleaming counter is closely chased by him lowering his head between my legs. He doesn’t wait for permission, nor does he remove my dressing gown. He merely uses the slit in the static-loving material to his advantage, so he can devour his second sickly sweet meal of the day. I don’t care. I’m too in awe about him lapping up the slickness his dominance caused between my legs to worry about him gaining permission to do so.
As my fingers weave through his dark locks, he slips two fingers inside of me. They enter without effort, made easy by the wetness of his hearty licks. Within a minute of his magic fingers taking control, I’m grunting, moaning, and cursing as if I’m being tortured instead of pleasured. The sensation is almost too much. I’ve never felt more unhinged—even more so when Dimitri lifts his eyes to mine. His stare rings the words he spoke to me days ago through my ears. “You don’t want a man. You want a monster, a bastard, a man who’d rather destroy you than ever have you believe you deserve more than him.”
This is his way of destroying me. He will spoil me so much in the bedroom, just the thought of being with another man will feel disturbing.
I don’t mind. There could be worse things to be dependent on.
My parents’ addictions are proof of this.
Like everything else in life, Dimitri doesn’t follow the rules in the bedroom any more than he does outside of them. He licks, finger fucks, and devours me until anyone but him is far from my thoughts. He brings me to the very brink of orgasm, tonguing me and tugging at my clit until I’m writhing against his face, then he withdraws all contact.
I can’t hold back my wail this time around. It roars out of me just as frantically as a husky moan when Dimitri lowers his trousers as if they’re sweats. He fists his erect cock in his hand before giving it a long and slow tug. “What was our agreement, Roxanne?” He sounds angry, but I don’t pay the angst in his tone any attention.
I can’t fear a man I crave more than my next breath.
My eyes snap to Dimitri’s when he strangles out my name as forcefully as he fists his cock. His eyes demand my focus as much as the stimulating visual bombarding me, but I’m not strong enough to listen to both my libido and my head. It’s either one or the other, which has me wondering if that’s why he asked his question while stroking his cock. I’m already on the back foot for most of our exchanges, but when his impressive manhood is on the table, I’m as submissive as it comes.
Evidence of this is submitted without prejudice when I mumble, “That I’m to do as you ask when you ask…” I wet my lips, hopeful a bit of moisture will ease my next set of words past the lust clutching my throat, “… for precisely how long you ask.”
“And what have you been doing?” He strokes his cock faster when he spots a witty comeback in my eyes. The way a handful of pumps alters the direction of my reply reveals I’m worse than a man. I’m not being led astray by my pussy, I am being wholly controlled by it. He has me by the throat, and he’s milking it for all its worth.
It’s a pity for him I saw the light in his eyes change when he went down on me. He’s more powerful than me, a million times richer, and undeniably more dangerous, but there’s one thing we have in common that social status will never change.
He craves me as much as I do him.
“I’m doing as requested. Answering your every whim.” The bangs fanned across my forehead rustle in the frantic breaths that pump out of Dimitri’s nose when I lower myself onto my knees in front of him. “Even the pleas you’re not willing to voice just yet.”
After replacing his fist with mine, my tongue darts out to lap up the sticky bead on the end of his impressive cock. The bunching of his thigh muscles exposes he’s trying to act unaffected by my switch-up, but the growl I hear rumbling in his chest weakens his endeavor. He’s dreamed about me sucking his dick as often as me, if not as long.
“This changes nothing between—”
