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“Wait here,” he says, a touch of authority to his voice that I know he expects me to be turned on by. I’ve never in my life been turned on by a man telling me what to do, but I let my expression soften, my fingers lingering against his as I sit, watching him walk towards the bar cart in the dining area of the open loft.
I focus on the view while I wait for him to come back, trying to slow the beat of my racing heart. I almost don’t hear him when he walks back up to the sofa, jumping a little as he holds out a glass with a large round ice cube clinking in it.
“What’s this?” I take the glass from him, looking curiously at the amber liquid inside.
“An old-fashioned.” His glass looks as if it contains the same thing, and he sits down next to me, a hand’s space between us. “Have you had one before?”
“No.” It’s the truth for once. I’d never been a whiskey drinker. “But like you said–anything is worth trying once, right?”
A slow smile spreads over Mikhail’s face. “Absolutely.”
I take a small, gingerly sip of it, wincing a little at the bite. It’s hot as it spreads over my tongue and down my throat, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. I can taste the bitter and the sweet, the burn of the alcohol, and as I take another, second sip, I decide that I might actually like this.
“What do you have?” I glance at his drink, and he grins.
“A Manhattan. It’s very similar. Here, would you like to try it?”
I hesitate. “Sure,” I say finally, reaching out, but instead of handing me the glass, he extends it instead, tipping it against my lips.
I can feel his eyes on my mouth as the liquid touches it, feel the tension thickening in the air. It tastes very similar, and I swallow hard, feeling the alcohol swimming through my bloodstream.
“How was that?” Mikhail murmurs, and I smile a little shakily, reaching for my own drink again.
“It was good. Similar to mine–” I hear my voice trail off as his eyes linger on my mouth, and I can feel him moving towards me.
“This is what I meant,” he says softly, his voice thick with desire already. “When I said I would do what I needed to, because Iwantyou. There’s no other woman I want sitting here right now, Ekaterina. Only you.”
“It’s hard for me to believe that’s all you want. You can understand why–”
He’s sitting very close to me now, his knee brushing mine, and I can see the heat in his gaze as he looks at me. “If you keep teasing me like this,” he murmurs, his eyes lingering on the edge of his glass where my lips were, “you’ll find out sooner than you might expect what I really want from you tonight.”
I half-hoped he might get drunk enough to not be able to follow through on that part of the night, that I could take the money and go home without having to let him make good on what we’d negotiated for. It would have been better that way. I wouldn’t have had to fight my own desires, then, my own reaction to the way he’s looking at me, the way his touch makes me feel–the way he makes me ache for a pleasure that I feel like I’ve almost forgotten, it seems so far away.
“What’s that?” I breathe, taking another sip from my own glass. The whiskey is warm and sharp on my tongue, only adding to the heat in my blood, and I swallow hard as Mikhail’s hand touches my thigh, pushing up the soft chiffon skirt of my dress.
“I want to taste you,” he murmurs, and suddenly his other hand is on mine, taking the glass out of my fingers and setting it aside. “I’ve wanted that since that night I watched you touch yourself for me, in the champagne room. It’s all I’ve thought about.”
“I thought all you’d been thinking about was kissing me,” I say innocently, giving him a small, sly smile. “And you’ve kissed me already. So you know–”
“It’s not your mouth I’ve been thinking about kissing.” His voice is hoarse and rough with lust, and an answering jolt of desire sparks over my skin as he grabs my waist and my thigh suddenly with hard, demanding hands, pushing me onto my back on the couch as the hand on my waist slides down to push up my skirt.
“I’ve been wondering all night what you had on beneath this–ah.” He lets out a satisfied groan as he pushes the chiffon up to my hips, revealing the black lace panties beneath. “You never disappoint me, Ekaterina.”
The name is a breath on his lips, full of need as he tucks my skirt beneath me, his fingers hooking in the edge of my panties. For one brief, wild moment, as I feel desire pool between my thighs at his fierce urgency, I want to tell him no. I want to push him away, get up and flee this place, because the way this makes me feel is more dangerous than anything that’s happened up until this point.
The way I’m aching for his tongue between my thighs, for the fantasy of his ice-blue eyes looking up at me as he licks me to a shattering orgasm, is dangerous.
But it would mean leaving the money behind. It would mean angering a man who could be my ticket out.
And it would mean never, ever finding out what it would feel like to have Mikhail’s face between my thighs.
He drags my panties down my legs, tossing them aside on the hardwood floor as his hands slide upwards again, over my calves, my inner thighs, spreading me wide as he looks at me with a hunger that startles me. His lips brush against the soft skin of the top of my thigh, his tongue tracing the edge of thecrease there, and I hear him breathe in deeply, a sound that makes me flush pink at the implications.
“You smell so sweet,” he groans, his hands tightening on my thighs, holding me open for him. “I can’t wait to find out how you taste.”
His fingers brush against the folds of my pussy, parting me for his tongue, and I hear the soft, wicked chuckle as his fingertips find how slick and wet I am. “So eager for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “How quickly will you come for me, I wonder?”
I want to tell him he’ll have to try harder than that, that it won’t be as easy as he expects, but I’m certain by this point that isn’t true. I can feel myself dripping with arousal, soaked and every bit as eager as he said. When I feel his warm breath against my swollen and aching pussy, it’s all I can do not to give myself away even more and arch up against his mouth.
