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“I don’t want to talk about it. You are here to take my mind off of the shit going on in my life,” he rasps, his deep voice almost hoarse.
Finally, he turns to look at me, and the wild desperation in his eyes strikes straight at my heart. I’ve never seen him this unsettled, and it both disturbs me and makes me ache for him. Taking his hand, I gently lift it from the window ledge to guide him through the scene of destruction and out into the hall. He follows me willingly to his bedroom, his large hand wrapping around mine as he lets me take the lead–something he’s never done in the two and a half years we’ve been together.
I release Ilya to close the doors behind us, and when I turn to face him, he’s watching me closely, his expression dark and full of turmoil. It makes my heart stutter. But I shove the feeling aside, instead stepping close to him as I keep our eyes locked. Reaching down to the beige hem of my fleece teddy sweater dress, I slowly guide it up over my curves, stripping down to my lingerie with one move. Based on the time of night he called, I knew this was what he was looking for. No dinner or date, just straight to the fucking. I leave on my black leather knee-high boots. They work well with the hunter-green jewel-studded bra and velvet high-waist cheeky undies.
Ilya doesn’t move, though his eyes scan down my body to take in my wardrobe. I’m a bit at a loss for what to do. Usually, he initiates the scene, telling me to strip down, ordering me to do whatever he has in his mind for the evening. But not tonight. I drag in a shaky breath as I turn my attention to Ilya’s clothes, taking charge as I unbutton his suit jacket, his dress shirt, and then push them down off of his shoulders and over his arms, letting them fall to the floor.
I squat, spreading my knees to give him a good view as I unbuckle his belt and remove his slacks and boxer briefs. He doesn’t stop me. He even goes so far as to step out of his shoes and pants, but he gives me no sign that I’m doing what he wants–well, aside from the impressive erection that rises to attention as soon as it’s released.
Looking up at Ilya to gauge his reaction, I grip the base of his cock and ease it into my mouth. His jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare as a flicker of light burns in his gaze. But still, he remains tense, his shoulders bunched and his hands fisted, even as I start to blow him just the way he likes.
What I’m expecting from him, I’m not entirely sure. I’ve never had to take the initiative, and suddenly, I’m thrown back to my first experience with Ilya, trying to suck his cock and not knowing how. I’m surprisingly off balance from it, like a baby deer trying to stand for the first time. And as I watch Ilya’s face, I fail to see any confirmation that what I’m doing is right. If anything, he almost seems distracted, like his mind is a mile away, even though I’m giving it all I’ve got, taking his cock deep down my throat as I swallow his hard tip.
The feelings of uncertainty I was struggling with on the drive here come roaring to life as I start to wonder if this might be him debating whether he wants to be with me anymore.Is this a test to see if I can still entertain him, to see if I can offer him anything new?Anger crackles through me like a bolt of electricity, burning away the pain of rejection, and I withdraw his cock from my mouth as I rise.
Abandoning any sense of reason, I stand to my full height and shove Ilya’s chest hard, forcing him to take a step back. The backs of his knees hit the foot of the bed, and he sits, mild surprise flickering across his face.
“Why did you even bother calling me if you just want to mope?” I demand. “What, you just wanted to make sure I would come when you summoned me? Well, I’m here now, and you’ve made it clear you don’t want to talk. So if you don’t want to fuck either, what do you want from me?” The pain squeezing my chest comes out as biting anger, my tone both accusing and resentful, and I’m surprisingly close to tears, which only further exacerbates me.
That triggers Ilya, and irritation flashes across his face as his dark, hooded eyes ignite with fresh anger. Good. I would rather he be pissed than distant. The cool, detached way he’s been treating me since I walked through the door hurts worse than a slap across the face, which from his expression might be coming my way. Not that he’s ever struck me like that before, but judging by the state of his office, he has the potential to seriously lose his temper. I don’t care. I’m pissed.
Ilya rises from the bed, his face taut with anger. “You do not speak to me like that,” he growls, looming over me as we stand mere inches apart.
“Well, what the fuck, Ilya? I’m here, but you sure as hell don’t seem to be. If you don’t want to fuck me anymore, then at least have the decency to leave me be. I’m not just some fucking toy with an on/off button that you can pick up or set aside whenever you feel like it! I respect that you have a fucking life outside of me, and I don’t go around asking you to come over to watch me sulk. What gives you the right to do that to me?”
I know I’m being unreasonable, that he’s clearly got a lot on his mind. But all the anxiety over my own troubles have left me feeling dangerously vulnerable, and he hasn’t even taken the time to ask about them while he’s throwing up defensive walls around his own issues. Never mind the fact that, even if he did ask, I wouldn’t dare tell him my growing agitation is in large part due to the thought of our contract coming to an end and me losing him permanently.
As my frustration skyrockets, I shove him again, my palms slapping his pecs as they connect. But this time, Ilya is immovable, his body like an unyielding rock. With lightning speed, he snatches my wrists and yanks me forward against his chest. In the same move, he forces my arms behind my back, pinning my hands on top of my velvet panties as he glares down at me.
I return the scathing gaze, tipping my chin up to look at him as I struggle to escape his hold. But his arms are like iron, locking me in place against his body, his hard cock pressing into my hips. And despite the feeling of rejection that threatened to consume me a moment ago, excitement floods my body at the clear sign of his arousal.
“I can do whatever the fuck I want with you,” Ilya promises in a low growl.
Holy hell I want him to. And at the same time, I’m still mad at him for making me feel so weak. I lean closer to his face, unwilling to back down. “Fuck you,” I hiss, lashing out verbally since I can’t move with him restraining me so efficiently.
Fury flashes in his onyx eyes, and they glance down at my lips, which are so close to his I can feel his breath whispering across my skin. And then he kisses me–fiercely, forcefully. He’s almost aggressive in the way he captures my lips, his tongue penetrating them to consume me. Ravenous need bursts to life in my chest, further inflamed by my anger, and as Ilya kisses me with a kind of passion that takes my breath away, I find myself fighting to deepen the kiss, to take from him every ounce of greed he draws from me.
I can probably count the number of times Ilya has kissed me in our two and a half years together. But none of them compare to this. The desperation with which he kisses me makes my toes tingle and my clit throb against my panties. His feverish flesh sears my exposed skin and seeps through my lingerie as he holds me dangerously close. And when he finally releases my wrists to grab my ass cheeks and pull me impossibly closer, I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around his neck.
His hands travel down to my thighs as he scoops me up off my feet, and my legs wrap around his waist as I cling to him. He doesn’t waste a moment as he turns with me in his arms and lies me down on the bed, his full weight following as he crushes me into the mattress.
I groan as his hard cock presses against my clit through my undies. I need him inside me so desperately, I just might lose my mind. A deep conviction roars to life inside me; if I’m going to lose Ilya, then I plan on ringing every drop of pleasure from him that I can until the day he lets me go. Because I’ve never felt this for anyone before, this overwhelming sense of hunger that drives me wild.
Ilya’s fingers comb into my hair, and he jerks my head back roughly, eliciting a cry of pain from me, even as his lips close around the tender flesh below my jaw and an intense burst of arousal licks through my core. His hand grope me, kneading and squeezing my flesh almost painfully as he explores every inch of me with what seems to be the same level of animal lust as burns inside me.
I’m intensely aware of how raw our connection is. It’s hot and rough and devoid of the usual pretense that Ilya insists on maintaining to keep distance between us, to avoid feelings from developing. It’s intensely erotic, and it fills me with an unusual confidence that makes me bold.
Wrapping one leg around Ilya’s thigh, I plant my other foot and twist my hips, using my elbow to help leverage his body as I roll on top of him. A snarl escapes his lips as he captures mine once more, seeming to respond greedily to my rare display of dominance. Planting a palm on his strong chest, I pull back, sitting up as I straddle him, my hand pinning him to the bed.
Fire dances in his gaze, and deep satisfaction fills me as I see he’s fully present now, all his attention focused on me with an intensity that sends a shiver racing down my spine. I roll my hips, grinding my velvety panties along his hard length as I reach back to unclasp my bra. I slide it luxuriously down over my arms, slowly exposing my breasts before I toss it aside.
Ilya’s warm hands reach up to cup them, his fingers closing around my nipples to pinch and roll them. I can’t stand it any longer. I can’t even bring myself to climb off him and remove my panties. Instead, I reach down and shove the fabric to the side before taking his thick cock in my hand and guiding it toward my entrance. I ease down onto his length, my moan matching his deeper, rumbling one as he slides inside my wet pussy.
The sense of strength and power that comes with being on top of him is intoxicating, and I arch my back, leaning into his hands as I start to rock my hips. The feel of his erection stretching me, filling me up chases away the last lingering fragments of insecurity at the corners of my mind. He wants me. At least in this moment, he wants to fuck me, to claim me. And tonight, I’m claiming him too. I ride him hard and fast, relishing the sensation of him penetrating me deeply before his arousal-slicked cock slides back out of me. My clit grinds against him every time I roll my hips, and my excitement spikes sharply as I barrel toward an orgasm.
Ilya’s hands travel down from my breasts and over the curves of my waist until they find my hips. His fingers dig into my flesh as he grips me firmly and helps with my motion, supporting me even as he intensifies each thrust inside me. I dare to reach forward and brace against his strong pecs which are flexed with the effort to keep up with my demanding pace.
His abs ripple and bunch, and I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything as sexy as Ilya letting me ride him, his body responding eagerly to my demands, his muscles tensing with his struggle to hold out. I can see it in every line of his body, he’s on the verge of coming. And fuck, I am too.
