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I don’t question why the back of my eyelids burn or the pang of hollowness in my chest aches. If I start asking questions now or allowing myself to feel the twist of pain when I think of Daniil behind bars, I’ll lose focus on my endgame. One last glance at the music box as I shove it back in its place hardens my resolve. This is the only thing that matters.
I emerge from the closet wearing a little off-the-shoulder red dress, one that broadcasts my intent quite clearly. Releasing my hair from its messy topknot, I allow it to fall over my shoulders in natural waves, better for Daniil to have something to grip onto.
I wander down the east wing where the offices are located. As expected, Timofey steps out of the shadows as I approach Daniil’s office and asks if I’m lost. Unless I’m chasing a dog, there’s no reason for me to be here. But of course, there is.
“No,” I reply, offering him a cheeky grin, “just visiting my husband.”
His chagrined expression is exactly the response I was looking for. When he hesitates for a moment, I loosen the belt of the trench coat I threw on before leaving our suite. One glimpse at the skimpy dress visible beneath the coat, and Timofey reddens, stepping back from the door.
Smart man.
I softly knock and Daniil responds with a rough, “Enter.”
My foot connects with the wood, pushing it open while I stay planted in place. His eyes soften when he sees me darkening his doorway. Without a word, I release the belt, allowing the coat to swing open, showcasing the goods beneath. I cock one hip to the side, resting my hand on my waist.
It’s at the moment I realize he’s on the phone, some kind of conference call in Russian, but that doesn’t stop him from smiling wolfishly at me and beckoning me forward with a crook of his finger.
Dropping the coat to the floor, I hitch my dress just high enough to make it clear I’m not wearing anything underneath. Air hisses through his teeth, and he hits a button on his speakerphone. The mute button, I hope. “Come here, printsessa.”
I sashay towards his desk, stopping directly beside his chair which is pushed back against the wall, giving me ample room to settle between his thighs. He doesn’t make a move, merely watches to see what I’ll do next.
“I’ve missed you,” I pout while rapid-fire Russian fills the room from the speaker. “Is this an important call?”
“Yes, very.” He reaches up to cup my breast lewdly, then trails his hand down over my waist only to land on my ass, giving it a firm squeeze. A fire lights between my thighs, boiling to a rapid heat. I need this as much as he does, but he doesn’t seem willing—or able—to end his call.
“Should I come back?” I ask reluctantly.
“Not at all.”
Alrighty then.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I lift one leg, slowly bringing it across his lap while his hot stare drags over my body. Straddling him, my dress gathers around my hips.
My fingers trail over his jaw. Strong, with the bloom of a five-o’clock shadow. He is sexy as hell. I think about it all the time when I prop myself on our bathroom sink and watch him shave in the morning. He devastates me. And that’s why I need to fuck this feeling away right here, right now.
My lips crash down on his, and I push my tongue into his mouth, undulating my hips over his swollen dick still trapped in Armani. His strained grunt sends an electric shock straight to my clit. Daniil’s hands travel from the backs of my thighs all the way up to my ass.
He roughly pulls down the top of my dress to expose my breasts to his heavy stare before his mouth clamps around a nipple. Sucking me. Devouring my tits as he would my lips with hot open-mouth kisses. His other hand moves to my ass, pulling me down roughly over his hard cock. It’s so commanding, so predatory, and it makes me desperate to feel his thickness drilling inside of me.
“Be a good little whore and come on me,” he commands. Somewhere in the background, I’m vaguely aware of men’s voices still coming from the speakerphone, but it only seems to make the moment hotter.
My pussy throbbing, I swing my hips forward, every nerve ending in my body comes alive as my clit grinds against the fabric covering my husband’s cock. The friction ignites a path of pleasure inside of me, and I’m high thinking about how dirty this is. Me using his fully clothed body to get off. I’m flushed, and wanting with every glide over his bulge.
And then he pulls away, leaving me breathless and needy. As if nothing out of the ordinary is going on, Daniil leans forward, just past me, hits a button on his phone, and speaks. I can’t understand his words, but fuck, his voice is calm and steady. He doesn’t sound at all like his wife is grinding on him, about to come on his fully clothed form.
Just the thought of my impending release seems to push me closer to the edge. I can’t help it. A breathless moan escapes my lips.
A low chuckle rumbles from Daniil’s chest. He must hear the desperation in my moan and register the way my fingers grip his shoulders tight while I rock on him like it’s my salvation.
“Better keep it down, printsessa, they don’t get to hear my wife come,” he whispers against my ear. “But if they do”—he delivers a sharp smack to my ass. A crack rings out through the room and there is a momentary pause in the phone conversation—“there will be consequences.”
Motherfucker. He hadn’t put the phone back on mute. He’s toying with me. Like a cat toys with their prey. But I can’t say I mind the idea of his consequences.
“Come on me. I want you to get this ten-thousand-dollar suit messy with your pussy juice.”
He keeps his fingers intertwined behind his head, but he looks at me with such a heated stare, I’m surprised I haven’t erupted in flames. Biting my lower lip to keep from crying out, I squirm against him, my clit begging for any type of action. And when I find it, a breathy moan slips from between my lips, which Daniil catches, sealing his lips over my own.
Russian male voices continue to drone on in the background, and maybe that’s why I’m caught unaware when Daniil grabs my hips forcing them down just as he flexes his hips upwards, my clit colliding with his hardness. That crash is all it takes for me to explode all over him. The orgasm lights my body like an inferno, making my movements jerky, my breaths ragged… and loud.
