Page 47 of Lord of the Underworld

It's distracting, how much I enjoy watching her play. She's bold, a risk taker. In two or three moves, it's clear she's running the King's Gambit. When I decline the pawn, she glances up at me with a little frown before switching her approach.

My fingers brush hers as I move my knight and there's the slightest hint of color rising on her cheeks, that delicious pink that makes me want to strip her bare and see if she's that color everywhere. Her pussy was an exquisite shade of rose when I'd finger-fucked her into an orgasm yesterday, she's so pretty when she comes.

My cock is thickening and I curse it silently, trying to focus on the board. I wouldn't put it past Oksana to try to distract me, and if she is - damn her - it's working. She makes a little humming sound every now and then when she takes a piece of mine off the board. When I'm thinking about my next move, she watches me, not the game.

It's a well-fought battle, but finally, I take her king, twirling it between my fingers. That little furrow is back between her brows as she studies the board to find her mistake.

"You play well," I say gently.

"As do you," she sighs.

Pushing back from the table, I pat my thigh. Oksana glances around the room, as if searching for an escape before rising to step over to my side of the table and gingerly sit on my leg. Her posture is defensive, knees tight together and hands clasped. Bouncing my knee up, I send her off balance. With a little yelp, she grabs my shoulders to steady herself.

"A confession, or a kiss?" I ask.

Cautiously settling herself more comfortably, she says, "I'm not- a confession, I guess?"

This isn't the question I intend to ask, but it comes out anyway. "Why aren't you afraid of me?"

"I…" she glances away from me, then sucks in a deep breath. "I've spent so much time hyper focused on who in my life was safe, and who wasn't." She shrugs. "Maybe all women do it, especially in our world. That night when we all met for dinner, I knew you were curious. You were cold, but you were never cruel. I knew you were going to be safe.

"Oh, I've heard all the stories about you." She looks at me now. "I'm pretty sure most of them are true. But you saved me from Yefim." Her mouth twists as she spits out his name like it tastes bad.

"I will always keep you safe," I promise.

Her cool hand goes to my cheek, feather light, as if she's waiting for me to pull away. When I don't, her palm slightly scrapes over my stubble and I close my eyes. The simple act of leaving myself vulnerable, letting someone get so close to me shouldn't feel safe. There's no atavistic shudder, no urgent desire to push her away.

"Vadim?" It's a whisper in my ear, her breath puffing against my skin.

"Yes?"

"Were you disappointed that I picked a confession instead of a kiss?" She's blushing again.

"Would you like me to kiss you?" I know she does. But is it from curiosity, gratitude, or genuine need?

She bites her lower lip again and I want to pull her lip free from her teeth and bite it myself. Hard, so there's a stain of red that I can lick away, the taste of bright copper in my mouth.

Oksana is a virgin, you heartless fuck. Give her time.

"Yes," she says. Clearly, no hesitation.

Turning her so she's straddling me on the chair, I cup her cheeks, my thumb stroking over her lips. Her tongue darts out, the tip touching my skin and I groan, pulling her to me and kissing her with weeks of pent-up need. She kisses me back enthusiastically, inexpertly, following my movements and then trying them herself. When she repeats my action, lightly biting down on my lower lip and tugging, my vision whites out.

My hands are on her ass, squeezing them roughly, pulling her flush against me where there's no pretending I'm not hard as a piece of granite. Oksana's hand slides around to the back of my neck, another thing I would have never allowed from anyone before now. I let her do it, feeling her fingers curl through the strands of my hair.

Stop this. She's not ready.

With an involuntary groan, I pull back. "Why don't you go to bed," I rasp, "I have some work to finish here."

Her disappointment is flatteringly clear, but this is the right move. I don't want her fucking gratitude or her sense of obligation. When I take her to bed, I want her needs, her desperation.

I can wait.

Chapter Twenty-One

In which it is Extraction Day.

Oksana…