When I felt the heat building, I held her in place once more. I hit her throat harder and held it there. I shot my release insideher mouth without moving until she swallowed the last remnant.
She was shaking when I pulled my cock out and lifted her up. She coughed, her breath coming out unevenly. I turned her and pressed her back against my chest. Letting her calm down, letting myself calm down.
I couldn’t help but wonder if she would become like other girls if fucked her, if I took her body. Would she become useless and someone I could walk away from without a second thought?
I knew myself, I never fucked girls twice. One sex night was enough not to look at her the same way tomorrow. I always moved on easily, detached without effort, leaving nothing behind. Girls bored me easily, so one night was enough. And I loved it that way because tasting several pussies sounded better than just one.
But the idea of waking up and feeling nothing for Inna didn’t sit well. I wasn’t done with her, and that was the truth that had grown teeth. I still wanted her in my life, which was reason enough to control myself. Living each day with a wife who was chaos, catastrophe, and infuriatingly beautiful sounded better than satisfying my desires and discarding her like trash.
Chapter Twenty-one
Inna Grace
For the two days thatpassed, I kept reminding myself that I liked soft men. Gentlemen. Men who treated a woman as if she were worthy of care. Men who used their hands for holding rather than gripping, who did not shove themselves into your mouth as if making a point. I had a whole list of what I preferred. I recited it like scripture since the night Dmitri fisted my hair and proved every item on the list was a polite lie.
The memory didn’t leave me alone, nor did the feeling of his grip on my hair and the burn in my throat. The look on his face held me in place as if my discomfort were decorative. He made sure I wasn’t going anywhere. The way his head fell back, and that grunt left him as if it pulled something honest out of a man who kept everything locked.
That was what drove me insane. Not the act itself, but the evidence that I made him look like that. And the inconvenient heat that flooded through me every time the memory surfaced was a problem.
I wanted to try it again. Worst? I wanted to try that, but in adifferent way.
But I liked soft men, I reminded myself. I liked being handled as if I might break.
I suspected Dmitri did that deliberately. He let me see him naked, let me touch him, let me taste his cum, and let me live with that memory. I couldn’t stop imagining what else he could do with that much control over me. The positions he could fix me made my brain short-circuit embarrassingly.
The problem was, I wasn’t even his type, which was confirmed again by the fact that he disappeared after that night. The first night was a relief, but the second night, I became aware of it. If he wasn’t going to come back tonight, I would run out of comfortable names for it. It would be somewhere between wanting to avoid him and wanting to know where he was.
I told myself that he was busy. He owned what appeared to be half the city and answered to no schedule. Men like Dmitri did not come home because they were expected. Still, a quieter, less flattering thought kept surfacing: maybe he brought me here so he could bring another woman to the penthouse freely.
I checked my phone. It was five in the evening.
Cole was somewhere in the house. If he wasn’t with his tutor, he was reading, and if he wasn’t reading, he was wandering the mansion like an explorer. The swimming pool was his favorite, and the beach was where he went when he was tired of the pool.
I left the room and went downstairs into a house that never stopped moving. Staff drifted from one end to the other with purpose, always doing something.
Grandma was nowhere in sight. I was avoiding her after she asked how Dmitri and I met. Since the honest answer was that I stole his money, I decided that distance was a better solution until Dmitri returned.
I went to the kitchen, where I found the maids already preparing dinner. Anita stood at the island, mid-slice, her knifepausing the moment she saw me walk in.
“Ma’am, is there something you’d like?”
“I came to help.” I moved to the sink and washed my hands.
“Ma’am, I really don’t think that’s necessary.”
I reached for a knife, and Anita tried to take it, but I stepped back and held it behind me like a child trying to hide a toy.
“Look, I love cooking, and I’m slowly going insane doing nothing, so I will be helping.”
“I can’t allow you to —”
“Let her do it.” Grandma’s voice arrived before Anita argued further. We all turned as she stepped inside, carrying an empty glass. “Bring the mushrooms and the green beans. They need sorting. I’ll help too.”
Anita took the glass from her. “Madam, are you sure?”
She waved her off and moved to the island, pulling out the chair and lowering herself into it. I noticed the small effort she’d put in there, but she straightened her back as though the effort hadn’t happened at all.
“In fact, Inna and I will make dinner.”
