Page 88 of Cruel Demands

“I don’t want people in this office getting the wrong idea about you.”

“What wrong idea?”

“That you are here to socialize. That you are careless. That your attention can be bought with a drink and a smile.”

My face heats. “I like spending time with Dima.”

His jaw flexes. There it is.

I look up at him through my lashes with a smirk. “Dima’s funny, and he’s tall. I can’t help it if he wants to take me out after work.”

Mikhail’s breath makes a trail of goose bumps along my neck as he looks down at my breasts then leans forward and whispers in my ear, “And you do not care if the office starts to talk?”

I turn to look at him, our faces so close we could kiss, and I say, “I think you care if the office starts to talk.”

“And the way you are dressed,” he says quietly. “Is that on purpose, or are you just a slut?”

The word should offend me. Instead, heat drops straight through my stomach. “I guess I’m just a slut,” I tell him simply.

He growls, finally sick of me, and grabs my elbow. He turns me around, shoving my face into the door, and slides his hand up my thigh. I whimper the closer he gets to my underwear. He hears me and says, “Hold your underwear to the side if you want my finger inside you.”

I reach back, my face in the door, and do as I’m told. He wastes no time. It isn’t like before in his bed when he touched me gently, sliding his fingers up and down my slit and then circling my clit. He reaches from in front of me and pushes a finger inside me and when I cry out, he covers my mouth with his hand.

He says, “You are trying to make me jealous, Taylor, and I do not appreciate it. I am trying to get work done.” I laugh into his palm despite myself, and he moves his hand. “What?”

“No one was trying to make you jealous. You’re just insane. Dima’s a coworker.”

“And now?” he asks. I say nothing. His voice lowers. “Now you are.”

He releases me, pulling his finger out of me with a wet pop that leaves me feeling empty. My back arched, my face against the door, I feel humiliated, and I straighten quickly. He walks over to the chair I found him in, and he sits down. “Come here.”

I should tell him to go to hell. Instead, I walk toward him.

His eyes track every step. The closer I get, the more aware I become of the wetness between my thighs. When I stop in front of him, he spreads his knees. “Closer.”

“You’re enjoying this too much.” I step between his legs. He puts his hands on my hips and looks up at me. Something about the position makes my confidence falter. Mikhail Korolev seated in front of me should make him look less powerful. It does not.

His fingers tighten around my skirt. “You said you liked Dima’s attention.”

I smile again. “I do.”

His hand slides behind my knee. “Then why are you here giving me your attention?”

“Because you ordered that I give it to you.”

“Do you do everything I order you to do, kotik? You are that good of a girl?”

I look down at him with my chest heaving, lightheaded, unsure of what’s going to happen next. I feel like I’m on a ledge.

“What if I order you to suck my cock?”

He reaches between us and unfastens his trousers. My breath catches. Mikhail watches my face as he opens them, freeing himself. He’s already hard, the thick length of him resting against his stomach. The sight sends another pulse through me.

He wraps one hand around himself and strokes once. “Get on your knees.”

My eyes snap to his. He waits. There is no mistaking what he wants, but he doesn’t reach for me. He gives me the order and leaves the choice sitting between us.

I kneel slowly. His expression darkens with every inch. My knees touch the carpet. He reaches out and brushes my hair away from my face. “Do you want to do this?”