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“How has your day been?” I ask, wanting to drag the subject far away from anything that has to do with those texts.
We fall into easy conversation as Grigory tells me he’s mostly been here, working and practicing on the piano. I’m a bit surprised to find out that he also went swimming, which he tells me he’s done twice a week since he was a kid. Though, on second thought, I probably should have figured he exercises regularly. He might have a naturally strong build, but he wouldn’t get toned muscles from good genes or hours upon hours of conducting.
I run my hand down his arm, wanting to feel the strength there. This new information makes me want to explore his body, and I move my hand to his chest to play with one of the buttons on his white dress shirt.
“Can I open your shirt?”
Grigory’s eyes glimmer with warm amusement as his mouth curves into a smile. “Sure.”
I’m usually not this bold around him, and shyness heats my cheeks as I begin popping the buttons. Since we came here two days ago, it’s been him holding me down or ordering me onto all fours whenever he fucked me. I haven’t had the chance to truly touch him. Even when we’ve cuddled, it’s been him holding me, trapping my arms in his tight embrace. I’ve loved every second of it, but now I have this eager urge to explore his body.
My breath comes in heavy drags through my nose as I push the white fabric to the side and watch his chest. He might be close to fifty, but it’s clear he takes good care of himself. His stomach is flat with a slight ripple of muscle and his chest is wide and strong. I carefully run my fingertips through the smattering of hair on his sternum—the same hair that tickled my back when we lay naked in bed after he fucked me last night.
Casting a tentative glance up, I find his features calm and relaxed as he watches me. It spurs me on, and I slowly open my hand and press my palm to his skin. My heart speeds up as I feel the beating in his sternum. It’s strong and steady. Like him.
Slowly, I run my hand down his stomach until I reach the trail of hair that disappears into his pants. I caress it the same way I did on his chest and run my fingertips along the hem of his pants. I badly want to go further, but I’m not quite ready to ask for this.
I don’t have to, though. Grigory gives me the order. “Open my pants,” he says.
Biting my lip, I eagerly open his belt, followed by the button and his zipper. Then I stare, mesmerized, at the growing bulge beneath his black boxers.
“Take it out,” he instructs.
My chest moves with my rapid breaths as I pull back the elastic band and his hard length springs free. I dart out my tongue to wet my lips, secretly wanting to wet the tip of his cock.
“Can I touch it?” I ask, holding on to his boxers while pressingmy other hand to hischest.
“Go ahead.” His deep voice rumbles beneath my hand, his dark accent shooting tingly sensations across my skin.
My entire body hums as I slowly touch a finger to the tip. Precum leaks out, and I carefully smear it around the head before folding my fingers around his length, relishing the wide girth filling out my small grip.
God, I want more. I want to lick and suck, taste the saltiness, and feel his size in my mouth.
Grigory must sense my urge, or maybe he simply shares it. “Get on your knees,” he says in a husky voice that matches the hardness of his cock.
He grabs his erection in his very large hand when I release it. My eyes remain glued to it as he strokes a few times while waiting for me to crawl off his lap and settle between his legs.
For a breathless moment, I wait, hoping he’ll let me taste it, but not bold enough to initiate on my own. His lids are heavy when I glance up, his expression full of desire, but there’s none of the brutal dominance I expected. He doesn’t give me an order this time but silently holds his cock toward me. It’s strangely calm—so different from the usual turbulence of Grigory’s lust.
I gingerly lean in and press my lips to it. Grigory keeps stroking the base at a languid pace, and I stick out my tongue and swirl it around the tip.
When he moves his hand to the back of my head, I expect him to take control and fuck my mouth like Markus does. Instead, he just lets his hand rest there, gently caressing my scalp as he leans back in the chair with a pleased groan.
This brutal and sadisticman, who wants control of everything, likes a slow, gentle blowjob. Who would have thought?
I take my time, licking along his length, swirling my tongue, and gently sucking the tip. When I finally take him into my mouth, he lets out a deep groan that shoots straight to my core. My hips wriggle as I become more eager, sucking and bobbing my head up and down.
I take him all the way into my throat, and Grigory still doesn’t intervene. With Markus, I rarely get to pleasure him for more than two minutes before he takes control, and I’m always a tad disappointed when he grabs my hair and shoves himself into my throat. This is so different, and I relish the freedom Grigory gives me to please him.
Time is suspended as I sit here, feeling and tasting his cock. Once in a while, I glance up, meeting his heavy gaze as he leans back in the chair, looking entirely relaxed.
It’s calm and quiet—intimate in a way I could have never imagined.
It’s the quiet before the storm.
A hard tug on my scalp as he closes his fist around my hair has me glancing up to find his eyes dark and threatening, nostrils flaring.
In a burst of aggression, he darts up from the chair, yanks me off the floor, and throws me onto the bed. I squeal in surprise, my heart beating frantically as I try to process the shift. Before I know what’s going on, my skirt is up, pantyhose down, and I’m on all fours with Grigory’s hard length prodding against my opening.
