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For the last half hour, I’ve been lying on the couch, the same place he found me, reading on my Kindle, while Grigory has been answering emails.
“What do you need today?” he asks.
I push up to sit, too unnerved by his hyper-focused gaze to stay in the vulnerable position.
“I don’t know.” I stare into the distance as I consider his question. I have my answer when I remember the disquieting night in the empty apartment. “To not go back to Markus’s place.” A secret part of me hopes Grigory will take me back to his own place, but I don’t say it.
I feel his eyes boring into me, reading every shuddery twitch of my shoulders, every nervous tap of my fingers. Silence prevails for a few minutes. When I look up, I find his face hard as ever, but there seems to be something purposeful in his eyes this time.
“Go lock the door and come here,” he says, pushing out from the desk in his large leather chair.
I obey without question or much thought. When I turn back, my feet shuffle in surprise as I see him having freed his cock, stroking it casually.
My tongue darts out to wet my lips, anticipation growing even as uncertainty has me glued to the spot.
His brow is still furrowed with concern, his eyes honing in on me. But there’s no flicker of darkness to hint at his brutal sadism, which I’m not sure I’d be able to handle.
I make my way across the room with tentative steps, stopping three feet in front of him, my eyes flickering between him and his half erect cock.
“I’m not going to go allprimalon you,devochka. I know you can’t take that right now. You’re just going to suck me off for a while. I think it will do us both good.”
I take in the vision of this mighty man on his throne. He exudes power and control as always, but something’s off, I realize as my eyes roam over him, truly seeing him for the first time in days.
Beneath the mighty surface, there’s a lingering tension. His shoulders are taut, his jaw slightly clenched, and the crease between his brows is exceptionally severe. I let out a shuddery breath as I realize I’m the one who did this. I’ve driven the two men I care about the most in the world to the brink—worn them out and worried them.
“I’m sorry,” I say, casting my eyes down.
“Shh, just come here.” Grigory holds out his free hand and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes.
I’m not sure if this will help me, but I’ll do anything to alleviate hisstress. So I sink to my knees between his legs and give in to his control as he cradles the back of my head and guides me to his cock.
Opening my mouth, I prepare to take it inside, but Grigory stops me.
“Start by kissing it. Slowly.”
I cast a glance up at him. He’s still leaning back with his eyes closed. No pressure or hard commands.Nothingprimal,like he promised.
Slowly, I lean forward and press my lips to the tip, and a soft rumble escapes him, spurring me to do it again.
“That’s it,” he praises, stroking the back of my head. “Now, lick the tip.”
I stick out my tongue and gently run it along the slit. Then I swirl it all the way around the ridge, relishing in the soft feeling of smooth skin, the taste ofhim.
Another slow growl spurs me on, and Grigory’s hand becomes a resting weight on the back of my head as I start kissing and licking up and down the full length. He makes no sign of taking over. He lets me have this, and I sink into a peaceful quiet as I become bolder. I take the head in my mouth, sucking gently, then run my tongue along the hardening length, all the while knowing I’m still nestled deep in the safety of his control even though he isn’t exerting it explicitly. He doesn’t have to. I feel it hovering in the air around us—the dynamic. I’m only doing this because he allows it.
“Hmm, good girl,” he hums, and gratitude swells inside me, tugging me deeper into the floaty space as the world around us draws back. “You’re doing so well,devochka. Just like that.”
I grow more eager, reaching up to take the now hard length from him, needing to feel it for myself.
Carefully, I wrap my hand around it, a soft moan escaping me at the feeling. It sparks something primal in me. But it’s not a hungry urge for sex. It’s something calm and instinctive. An almost meditative need to please.
Almost as if reading my mind, Grigory says, “Do you want it in your mouth?”
“Yes, please.” I press a fervent kiss to the tip as my hips wiggle.
“You may take it in.” He slides his fingers into my hair, massaging my scalp.
“Thank you,” I whisper, imbuing the words with sincere gratitude. Reverently, I bring the head into my mouth and close my eyes as a feeling of purpose descends upon me, heavy and warm like a thick blanket.
