Ghost (Boston Underworld #3) - A. Zavarelli Page 0,77
gets to the good stuff. The really good stuff. His hands all over me. Sliding in and cupping my breasts beneath the lace of my bra. And in my panties. His fingers inside of me.
The entire time, his mouth is on mine. We kiss a lot. And I like it. I might even love it. Sometimes, it’s a slow burn. And sometimes, like right now, I’m consumed by the madness of it altogether. I feel it happening. The falling. Falling for him.
I know what he says. That he doesn’t care. But this isn’t just fucking anymore. This is him, whispering something in my ear and me providing anything he asks. We both get off on it. Any man can fuck me. But Alexei fucks my mind. My heart. My soul.
He lights me up and burns me down.
Every single time.
I want to tell him so, right now. I want to be honest. But inside, I know I need to push those thoughts away.
“Be dirty with me,” I tell him.
“Get down on your knees,” is his reply.
I do. He grabs a handful of my hair and rubs my face against the heat beneath his trousers. My fingers dig into his thighs and my breath quickens as he unbuckles himself.
“Be a good girl,” he says as he grips his cock in his palm. “And beg for it.”
This is new. And I like it. I like it even more when I look up and see him anxious for me to say the words. To tell him how much I want him. And in his eyes, I can see how much he wants to believe it. I will make him believe. Because it’s true.
“Lyoshka,” I tell him as I reach out and take his cock in my hand. “You are my husband. You belong to me. And nobody else. You can’t ever do this with anyone else.”
“I am a Vor,” he answers. “I will do what I like.”
I glare at him, and his eyes fire with satisfaction.
“Now quit pouting and suck my cock.”
I do. I push him all the way into the back of my throat and he groans. Hard. He loves it, but he can’t bring himself to admit how much.
“Do better,” he goads me.
I do even better. I suck him so hard he nearly blows his load in the first few minutes. But I know Alexei would never allow that to happen. So instead, he grabs me by the hair and yanks me up.
“Do you feel the need to please me?” he asks.
I feel vulnerable under his scrutiny. He already knows the answer. I don’t know why he makes me say it.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I want to please you.”
He brings his lips to my ear and murmurs between kisses. “You always do, Solnyshko.”
I tip my head back and allow him access to my throat, which he kisses tenderly.
“Please me now,” he directs me. “By bending over the desk and spreading your legs for me.”
I do what he says. He pulls aside my panties and fingers me while his other hand comes down on my ass. Hard. I make a noise, and I know he can’t hear it, but he feels how much I like this. How much I like him like this.
He smacks me again on the other ass cheek, and then pulls them apart roughly with his hand, kneading the flesh beneath his fingers. And then he backs away, leaving me cold and annoyed.
“Sit on the desk and play with yourself,” he tells me. “I want to watch.”
When I turn around again, he’s in his chair. Stroking his cock slowly and deliberately. Watching as I do what he says.
“Make yourself come,” he says. “And do it fast. Or I’m not going to fuck you.”
Again, I’m doing what he asks. Like a puppet. Like he owns me. But when I look at him, I know he does.
I hate it when he does this. When he takes away what I want from him the most. It isn’t the same when I have to do it myself. But I make myself come anyway, just watching him stroke himself.
“Now fuck me,” I beg him.
“Give me three reasons,” he answers. “Tell me what you’ve done to deserve it.”
“Because you like it,” I tell him. “And I’ll make you come.”
“I could come like this,” he says.
“But you like it better inside of me.”
He smiles.
“And what else?”
“I’ll let you work for the rest of the day without distracting you.”