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He was delicious, and I wanted to devour him.Bleu de Chanel. I’d smelled it before—my boss was a fan. It was as if someone took all my favorite baked goods, infused them with male musk. I was intoxicated and my insides were soft, mushy, and needy with the need for more. Then it hit me that he waskissingme. His lips were surprisingly soft as they moved on mine, and I parted my lips a bit to give him access to my mouth. He didn’t hesitate to dive in, and I ended up clinging to his shirt while he plundered my mouth.
He pushed me back, breathing hard. His hand around my neck kept me steady.
His eyes burned into mine as he whispered, “It’s going to be you and me, baby. You don’t get naked in front of anyone else. You can continue to dance with your clothes on if you want to.”
“Okay,” I croaked, I could hardly think.
“Good. Now, get on your knees.” He pointed at his lap with his chin. I looked down and saw how aroused he was. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. His hand was still on my neck, and he squeezed a little.
“Come on…” he said, his voice strained.
I looked into his face, seeing the barely leashed passion there and knew that this wasn’t just a power trip to emphasize to me who was boss. The connection I felt between us was real and went both ways. He wanted this—badly.
I ran my hands up and down his thighs and smiled. “Okay.”
I dropped down on my knees and crawled between his legs. His pants were tight, his erection obvious. I reached out, unzipping his fly as I held my breath, my cheeks flushed with passion and embarrassment. I was praying that no one was watching us, or worse, recording us. My fingers trembled slightly as I pushed his pants out of the way, reaching into his boxers and setting his dick free.
I swallowed, staring at his length and girth, hoping he didn’t expect me to get it all in my mouth.
I bent forward, his hard dick in my hands, and licked at his tip. A little teasing never hurt anyone, but I could hardly control myself. By the way he jerked and tried to stifle a moan, I knew I had him. I suckled the head of his dick gently, using my tongue to dig beneath it and circle the head. He groaned, leaning back, jerking his hips, trying to get deeper. I put my hands on his thighs to control his thrusts before I parted my lips wider and let him hit the back of my throat.
I choked a bit, my eyes tearing up and saliva dripping from my mouth. Even so, his thrusts, getting a little jerky and uncontrolled as his passion grew, filled me with a sense of unexpected power.
He threw back his head and moaned, his hands threading my hair and pulling slightly.
“God,yes… just like that. Your mouth was made for me.” He moaned and I didn’t know whether to feel complimented or insulted. I tilted my head up, letting him fuck my mouth with abandon, as he grunted and groaned.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “God, yes.”
I massaged the base of his dick, too big to fit in my mouth, as I spat on it and sucked and licked, giving him the deluxe treatment. He jerked, letting out a long groan as he came down my throat. I sat back and wiped my lips watching him trying to get his breath back under control.
I smiled tentatively, not sure if I should stand up and walk away or what.
He reached out, his hand fisting in my hair. “You were made for this.” He panted as he wiped the corner of my eyes where my tears had gathered.
“Thanks?” I gave a small grin in spite of myself, preening a bit for a job well done.
He leaned back, taking a deep breath, clearly still recovering. I stared at him wiping his cum from my lips.
Now what? I wondered.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
ALEXEI
The compound was a fairly large place, with plenty of room. Most of my men stay there; it’s convenient. Dorm living was never my style though, however well-appointed the rooms. I like my space. That’s why I have an apartment downtown.
No one knows about it aside from my immediate family and Kirill. But my immediate family—my sister and my mother—are currently in Russia.
The five-bedroom, four-bath apartment is registered to one Anton Bartlett the third, trust fund baby from Connecticut. I had no known or alleged affiliation with Anton, and so it would be difficult to trace the apartment back to me. I wanted a place where I could pretend that I was justJoe Schmoefrom Wall Street. With all the money I had and the strange hours I kept, it wouldn’t be farfetched.
I had chosen every piece of furniture that went into the apartment. As my sanctuary, I wanted it to be just so. It was open plan with a large kitchen come lounge area. The cream-colored walls stretched up to a very high ceiling. All of the upper part of the wall was made of one-way, bullet-proof glass. That meant my apartment had excellent lighting whatever time of day it was.
I had three bedrooms downstairs, one of which I used as an office, the other as a gym, and the third as a game room. I had an elaborate setup where I played GTA. It was fun to play with wannabe gangsters, crashing virtual cars and shooting virtual enemies. I found it kind of relaxing.
Upstairs was my master ensuite bedroom, and my weapons room.
The thing I loved about my apartment were the escape hatches. There were three different ways to get out, aside from the front door. All three ways were known only to me. My apartment sat at the penthouse of a ten-floor apartment block. Two of the floors below me were empty and booby-trapped. I had an elevator that ran from the basement to my floor and only I had the key. All these measures made me feel relatively safe.
