Page 90 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

His arms wrapped tight around her, holding her close and helping take the pressure and weight off her weak legs while he nuzzled his face in her neck. Before long, he had her rocking on him, taking more of him deeper every time she fell back onto his cock.

Despite the licks of pain, and with his hand falling between her thighs so his fingers would work fast circles over her clit, she could already taste the bittersweet bliss.

“W-why would you call my f-father for advice?” Vera asked between hitched breaths and the slap of skin on slick, hot skin. By the time he had seated himself deep enough that her insides ached, he gave her little to no time to adjust. At that point, she really didn’t care if she even needed it. Anything to have him fucking her.

Vaslav laughed darkly, lapping at her neck and gifting her earlobe with the nip of his teeth. “I knew you didn’t forget, smart girl.”

“Vas. Just tell me.”

“From one vor to another, how exactly do men like us retire?”

His fingers worked her faster, the pressure change giving her exactly what she needed to orgasm in the seconds following. Taking with it what breath she had left.

Probably on purpose.

She didn’t think he wanted an answer. Not from her.

21.

The last time Vera woke up to the sound of men’s murmurings, she’d wished more than anything that she had simply gone back to sleep. That was her first thought when she sleepily eyed the stairwell leading down from the master suites into the rear of Vaslav’s dark den.

Yet, she didn’t turn around.

Vera stepped into the stairwell, her fingers ghosting along the smooth railing that had been attached to the wood paneled wall on her way down. Maybe it was the familiar voices both, not just Vaslav that she recognized, and didn’t think the conversation was something she shouldn't hear. It wasn't usual for Igor to join Vas in his den for something or other.

Just not so late.

What time is it?

Vera hadn’t really checked the clock on the bedside table before slipping out of bed and padding into the bathroom. On her way to the bathroom, she’d first heard the murmurings coming from downstairs. She could count on one hand the number of times she woke up in Valsav’s bed without him beside her. Even if he woke up sick, she was there.

She quickly realized, once she was halfway down the stairs, why she could hear the murmurings in the suites upstairs. The two men talked so loudly, yelled, really, that they couldn’t even be trying to keep it private.

In her opinion, anyhow.

“You know how this goes, he talks, it’s over.”

“Vas—”

“If he fucking talks, Igor, it is over. There’s nothing to discuss about it. There’s nothing else to say.”

“There’s far more to say and you know it!” the man shouted back at Vaslav.

Vera had no intentions of eavesdropping. She learned her lesson the first time with Vaslav and his Italian business partner. As she came to stand in the small alcove leading from the rear hallway into the den, she didn’t hide her presence. Clearing her throat, she leaned against the trim of the wall’s corner, and folded her arms over her chest.

“It’s late,” Vera said.

One man sat behind the large desk, Vas. The other, Igor, stood just beyond the large carpet where Vaslav’s desk was positioned in the middle. Neither seemed all that interested in her, but that didn’t bother Vera.

“And you’re yelling,” she added after a moment.

She didn’t point out that both had been doing the shouting.

Did she need to?

Vaslav, with his fingers clasped together in front of his face, elbows resting on the desk, was careful not to meet Igor’s gaze before turning to glance at Vera. “Go back to bed, kisska.”

“Are you coming, too?”