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“It’s not too small?” I glance past him at my rosy bedding with flowers. “Or too girly?”
“The latter is what makes it you. And I happen to like you.” A warm smile curves his lips, and heat seeps into my cheeks. “As for the size, I don’t mind.” He strokes his thumb along my skin, stirring a prickling sensation.
“Aren’t you used to big hotel suites? And grand concert halls. Open spaces. That kind of thing?”
Grigory shrugs. “I own a house in a Russian forest. It’s not too big. Surrounded by trees on all sides.”
Surprise flickers within me. I do remember Markus mentioning said house, but he never gave me much detail, and I never gave it much thought. “Is it like a family house—something you inherited?”
“I bought it five years ago because I wanted a remote place. I might spend most of my time in the city, but I actually prefer something more quiet.”
“Oh.” He might know a lot about me, but I still have a lot to learn about this mystery of a man. I want to ask more questions—pick his brain and see what other quirks I can uncover. But before I get a chance to decide on my next question, Grigory sinks to his haunches in front of me.
I stare in stunned surprise as his big fingers work on the straps of my sandals. The vision isn’t new—he’s done this once before—but it’s still a strange thing to see this famous, powerful man on his knees, helping me with my shoes. The first time he did it, insecurities clouded my mind, but this time, I see it for what it is: An act of inherent protectiveness.
A small smile unfurls on my lips, and I try my best not to let it take over my entire face as Grigory gets up and opens the closet beside us.
“You need to make space for my shirts,” he says, closing the two doors again.
Once more, I’m a bit stunned by the way he inserts himself into my home without invitation. But as unnerving as it is, it’s also strangely calming—knowing I won’t have to go out of my way to make him feel at home. He’ll do that all by himself.
And I must admit I like the idea of his shirts hanging beside my clothes quite a bit. So I reach for one of the closet doors, ready to go to work.
“No, no.” Grigory grabs my arm and steers me toward the main room. “Not now. You need to sleep, little girl.”
I almost forgot about my lack of sleep, but now that he mentions it, the drowsiness becomes blaring. My legs are like heavy weights as he shepherds me into the room, and my bed has never been as inviting as when Grigory pulls off the covers to reveal my fluffy comforter.
Once he’s stripped the bed, he proceeds to strip me—one item of clothing at a time. Slowly, he drags the hem of my blouse up, skimming his large hands over my sides as he goes. It’s so good I find myself moaning when he does the same with my camisole and his warm hands graze my bare skin. Then he removes my pants and lingerie at the same slow tempo.
“Get on the bed,” he says when I’m standing naked in front of him.
I eagerly crawl up, grabbing for the comforter as I’m about to lie down. But sleep apparently isn’t first on his agenda. Before I can collapse on the mattress, Grigory grabs me by the hips, yanking me up on all fours. I yelp from the sudden force, panting as he adjusts me with my ass in the air, pointing toward him.
My heart is suddenly pounding. I did not see this coming, and frankly, I’m not sure I’m in the mood.
“Grigory, I need to sleep.”
The mattress dips as he climbs up between my legs. “First, you need to take my cock,” he says in a husky tone that offers no compromise.
There’s the scratch of a zipper and the rustling sound of fabric as he opens his pants. Then his cock is at my entrance, dragging through my folds. It’s not hard yet, but it’s quickly getting there. And the sensation prickles my sensitive skin, dragging out moisture, preparing me to take him.
But I’m still not in the mood. It doesn’t matter that my nether region is humming; I just want to sleep. And more so, my mind can’t handle the intensity of Grigory’s carnal possession right now. There are already too many thoughts stirring around in the drowsy fog.
One of them pops to the forefront with urgency as Grigory adjusts the head of his now very hard length against my opening.
“What about protection?” I blurt, trying to pull away.
Grigory simply grabs my hips, holding me in place as he leans over my back to rasp in my ear, “I’m clean, and you’re on the pill.”
“But…” My protest morphs into a whimper as he presses the tip inside. The breach is invasive. My breathing speeds up as I squirm in his grip. But Grigory has decided. With fingers digging into my hips, he slowly pushes in, forcing me to take him.
I pant and shake my head, and when he settles, rooted to the hilt, I deflate. My upper body collapses onto the mattress, and I bury my head in the comforter.
Grigory holds me there for a minute, his thick length lodged inside me, stretching me, owning me in a most primitive way. I realize my hips are wriggling, and my inner walls pulse around him, grabbing onto him, even as I try to expel him.
My unwanted reaction fucks with my brain. His cock is like a violation, uncaring of me and my need to rest. Yet, it pulls at some deep place inside me, slowly dragging forth a submission that wants to override everything.
My whimpers soften into small mewls of need. But it’s not a sexual need for pleasure. It’s a more primal, instinctive need to be possessed. Give up everything and let this man consume me.
