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“W–Where do you want me?” she breathes.
Releasing my breath, I ease my hold on her, allowing her to settle back onto her feet. Then I press her drink into her palms and finish off my drink with one large gulp. She follows suit, drinking it down quickly and coughing slightly from the burn of carbonation on the back of her throat.
Taking her delicate hand lightly in my own, I guide her toward the private rooms at the back of the club. She follows without a word, and when I open the room and gesture her inside, she leads the way.
Normally, when I bring women here, I might ask what kind of play they enjoy then go from there. But with Angel, I sense that we’ll be exploring from the start. She stops in the middle of the room, her eyes traveling over the complex and unique furniture built to maximize pleasure and punishment alike.
Stepping up behind Angel, I rest my hands lightly on her hips and lean close to murmur in her ear. “You’re sure you want to do this?”
She shivers delicately beneath my palms, then nods.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Yes, Mr. Federov.”
“Call me Maks,” I insist. Hearing my last name on her lips only reminds me of our age difference.
“Maks,” she agrees, then adds, “I want this.”
Intrigued by her conviction despite her apparent nerves, I feel compelled to put her at ease. I want to take it slow and explore what she might find pleasurable since she might not know herself. She said inexperienced, not a virgin, and I’m curious just what that might mean.
Scooping her thick waves of hair away from her neck with my fingers, I press my lips to the soft spot behind her ear and am rewarded with a soft gasp.
“Do you like it when I kiss you, Angel?” I murmur, working my way slowly toward her shoulder and the collar of her scoop-neck sweater dress.
“Yes,” she whispers, tilting her head to give me better access.
“Good. Because I intend to kiss every inch of your body tonight.”
5
HEIDI
The deep rumble of Maks’s low voice raises goosebumps along my neck and arms and sends a tingle down my spine. He’s a terrifying juxtaposition—dark and brooding, possibly even dangerous, and yet, I get the sense that he wants to protect me, to take care of me in some way. Or at least to put me at ease.
His apparent concern over our age difference contradicts the way he so willingly threw money at me to get his way. Like he’s used to getting what he wants and doesn’t care what it takes, and yet, he doesn’t like to think he’s taking advantage of me.
His touch is powerful, commanding, but it feels like he’s entirely focused on pleasing me. Yet he’s supposed to be paying forhispleasure.
I can’t make sense of him, and that mystery makes him all the more intimidating. But now that I’m committed to spending the night with him, I don’t want to let this opportunity slip through my fingers.
The thought that I could finally afford all the expenses that have come with Mom’s cancer and still have plenty of the money he’s promised left to turn my life around... it’s brought me such intense relief that I nearly panicked when he started to back out.
But now, as his lips travel expertly over my skin and his strong hands move slowly down my hips toward the hem of my dress, I’m not just glad I stuck with the deal for the money. Because Maks is a phenomenal kisser, and he’s making my body go wild at the slightest touch.
His fingers curl around the bottom of my dress, and inch by inch, he guides the soft, knitted fabric up my thighs, over my hips, past my waist and breasts. His lips leave my skin as I raise my arms, allowing him to undress me. And somehow, though I have danced in little more than a bra and panties at Lady Venus almost every night, having Maks strip me of clothes feels intensely more intimate.
“Turn around,” he commands, dropping my dress onto the floor beside me.
I do as he says, turning tentatively to face him. His eyes travel appreciatively down my body, undressing me further with his eyes before they come back to find my face. Then he slowly kneels before me.
My breath catches in my throat at the way his eyes never leave mine. Stooping before me, he looks like some kind of Greek deity lowering himself to worship at my feet.
His fingers deftly go to work on my shoelaces, then one strong hand grasps the back of my knee, bending my leg so he can slip my foot out of my white tennis shoe. He does the same with my other foot, tossing my tennies carelessly over his shoulders as he watches my face. I’m too spellbound to look away.
All the while, my lungs feel as if they’re frozen in a block of ice, the oxygen trapped there as my ears start to ring. With a deliciously soft caress, Maks’s hands travel up my legs, my hips, following the lines of my body as he comes back to a towering stand.
Then he tips his chin toward the freshly made bed that occupies one corner of the room.
